Maid For Him / l.h ✔️

20

~Luke's POV~

Beyla was clearly embarrassed, dropping her fork onto the plate and then quickly grabbing a napkin to wipe her face. It was cute to see that look on her face, her plump lips naturally pouting as she looked across the table at me. "T-Thank you." She stuttered, right before she went back to eating her food and I did the same, greatly amused.

Some part of me still couldn't believe she had actually agreed to let me take her out for lunch, mostly because I knew that she and I had sort of established that we needed to be as professional as possible with each other. But I was beginning to lose my patience with all of that, to be honest. I didn't want to be professional with her. I wanted to touch her, kiss her, hear her pretty little moans. I was aching for her, not that she could ever know that. With the fact that I had a girlfriend, I didn't want to play games with Beyla, even if my entire being did tell me that it'd be worth it if it meant I got to at least kiss her once.

I stared at the young girl in front of me, wondering how she still looked so pretty even when she was stuffing her face, and it was right then that I realized that I didn't really know anything about her. Fuck, I wasn't even really sure how old she was or why she had decided to work for me as a maid. I didn't know her favorite color or smell or anything at all... and, for some reason or another, I didn't like that.

"Bambi?" I said, successfully getting her attention. She looked up at me and lowered her fork down to her plate, still chewing as she cocked her head to the side. "Yeah?" She asked when she finished chewing, her big brown eyes filled with innocent curiosity as to what I could want. I couldn't believe it had only occurred to me now that I hadn't bothered before to really get to know her, but now was as good a time as any. We were alone and there was nothing to distract me from her.

"How old are you?" I asked, causing her to blink at me, probably taken aback by the seemingly random question. Still, she responded anyways. "Eighteen." She responded, giving me a smile that made my heart pound faster. It astonished me how fucking ethereally beautiful she was. "What about you?" She asked, cocking her head to the side. I thought I had told her how old I was when she had begun working for me, but I wouldn't have been surprised if I was just remembering that wrong. "I'm twenty four." I answered, biting my cheek.

I scanned my eyes over her pretty face, taking in the shape of her full lips and the sharp outline of her jaw. Her dark hair fell down around her face and over her large breasts in natural, shiny waves that looked soft to the touch. "Really? When's your birthday?" She asked me, curiously furrowing her brows. "July sixteenth." I answered, making her perk up. "Really?" She smiled and peered at me with bright eyes. "Mine is May sixteenth." She beamed, that bright smile catching me completely off guard.

Beyla's radiant smile had me dumbstruck, a heat creeping up into my cheeks that I fucking prayed she didn't notice. It was just that she had such a pretty smile and such innocently bright eyes, I couldn't help but to swoon over her.

I'm sure many guys her age had faced the same fucking problem when she'd been in school. She wasn't scary, but she was so...perfect that I wondered if any of those boys had had the balls to approach her. And if they had, I was almost sure none of them deserved someone as good as her, anyways. I wondered who had been the one to be her first for everything, assuming that she had already had all of her firsts.

"W-Why did you come work for me?" I stuttered out, uncharacteristically feeling flustered. I just needed to get my mind off of the topic of Beyla with other guys, even if I knew it was probably very unrealistic that a girl as beautiful as her hadn't been with one before. The thought alone was making my stomach churn with jealousy that I couldn't allow myself to feel, not when I had Kira. "Oh." She blinked, surprised at the sudden change of subject, and then went quiet for a moment to think about it.