Clean Wound, Clean Healing

She wasn't entirely sure how it had come to this; being a single mother to a bubbly and charming two year old daughter was never her plan.  The fact that she had to leave her daughter at a daycare every day so that there would be food on the table was even less a part of her plan, but it was what it was, and Marcia couldn't change it.  Wouldn't change it, not really.

What she would change, if she had the chance, was her job.  She blew a puff of hot air into the winter chill as she stepped out of her rundown car.  Happy Helpers Cleaning Service, it said on the window, a testament to how far she'd fallen from the bright-eyed honours student she'd once been.  Even still, most of her clients were decent upstanding people.  Some had kids of their own, and just didn't have time to keep control of it all.  She could relate to that.  But as she trudged up the stairwell to the house of Jason Brekitt, she felt every muscle in her body beginning to tense.  There was no one's house she hated to clean more than this man's.

Jason Brekitt was a handsome man, and Marcia would be the first one to admit as much.  That wasn't the problem with cleaning his house.  The problem was his horrible habit of following her from room to room and watching her as she cleaned.  He hadn't touched her, hadn't made lewd comments.  He was just always watching.
Added to that the fact was the troublesome realization that she couldn't predict her own response should he ever choose to touch her.  His face had taken to haunting her dreams; the most vivid shaking her from sleep on the tail end of the orgasms that came as a result of them.  Worse still was the fact that when she closed her eyes as she used her vibrator on herself in those rare moments of solitude, it was his smirk she saw, and his name she called as she came.

Enough of such thoughts, she mused.  She rang the doorbell and shifted her weight from one foot to the other.  It was bloody cold, and the uniform she was required to wear could hardly be considered dressing for the weather.  Her legs were covered in gooseflesh, and she was certain that the chill was going to make her nipples stand to attention at any moment.  Oh, there they go.

Finally the door swung open, and she forced a smile onto her face.  Jason stood there, his customary smirk fixed firmly in place, and her hands itched to forcibly remove it.  Instead she shifted her cleaning supplies to her other hand, and held his gaze.

Or rather, she tried to hold his gaze.  His eyes slipped down to her breasts and she flushed, embarrassed that he was seeing her in such a state.

"You a little chilly there, Marcia?" he drawled, stepping aside to allow her into his house.  She brushed past him without answering and couldn't help but get a whiff of his cologne, spice and cedar, fully man.

Curse you for being so bloody attractive, she thought bitterly, as she made her way to his kitchen.  He followed behind, and she could feel his eyes on her bum.  Turning around to face him, her gaze was met by a smug grin, just as it always was.

Whether it was the embarrassment of the thoughts he'd nearly interrupted or simply that she had lost all patience for him, she wasn't certain, but she couldn't seem to stop herself from snapping at the man.

"Just what is your problem?"

"I don't know that I'm the one with a problem, Marcia," he said, his eyes sliding over her. It was all she could do not to fidget under his gaze.  "You're the one who's barking out questions like a taskmaster."  He smirked, as she did fidget then.

"If you must know," he said, stepping closer to her, "I don't much think that this outfit suits you."  He brushed his hand out towards her, just a hairbreadth away from her, and she leaned forward slightly before catching herself.  "You deserve to be taken care of, not left to do menial tasks for anyone who can pay.  A woman like you ought to be wearing diamonds."

"And nothing else, I suppose," she snapped, irritated that this man could draw such reactions from her when she didn't even like him.

"Now that you mention it," he said, voice a low growl as he stepped towards her again.


She took a step backwards and hit the island, but he didn't stop moving towards her.  Her breath was coming in shallow pants, though she wasn't certain whether it was nerves or arousal.  Something told her it was likely the latter.

"How long have you wanted me, I wonder," he mused as he stepped one leg between hers.

"I - I don't," she said, willing her body not to give her lies away.

He didn't answer with words; instead, he dropped his head to hers and captured her lips in a searing kiss.  His tongue demanded entrance, and she moaned a little as she complied.  Her hands moved of their own volition to his hair, fingers running through it as he ravaged her mouth.  If she was honest she would be forced to admit that she had imagined this exact moment numerous times, though he was proving to be much better in reality.

"Liar," he whispered against her mouth, his hands settling on her waist to set her on the counter.  "Is it company policy to dress their employees in skirts two inches too short, or am I just lucky?" he asked, fingers brushing up her thigh to the edge to the skirt in question.  "You've nearly killed me when you've cleaned the tub.  I know that you wear dark red lace panties every time you come here."

She shivered.  After the first time she'd cleaned for him, she'd started wearing her favorite bra and underwear set every week when she came to his house.  The fact that he had noticed sent a bolt of heat through her, coiling in her belly.

"Is there a matching bra?" he murmured, bringing his head to kiss and suck on the sensitive skin behind her ear.  His hands made their way to the line of buttons on her shirt, and she arched into them. His deft fingers made short work the buttons, and he opened the shirt almost reverently.  His eyes darkened and a smile crossed his lips as her matching bra was revealed to his gaze.

He brought his hands to her sides, thumbs brushing across her breasts as he claimed her mouth once more.  Her breath was coming in heavy pants, and her panties were getting more damp by the second as his skillful hands teased her breasts through the lace of her bra.

"Have you touched yourself like this and imagined it was me?" he asked, removing her bra to twist her nipples into peaks.  As she moaned lightly in response, he pulled her closer to him.  "Imagined me putting my mouth on you, like this?"  He followed his question with the motion, pressing a kiss to one breast, then the other, before beginning to suck at them, tongue flicking over the pink buds.

She arched against him, knowing that everything he'd said was true, and that her response was likely to grow more wanton as he continued his ministrations.  It had been so long since a man had touched her like this, so long since she'd felt desired.  She just didn't have it in her to ask him to stop, not when he was setting her nerves on fire.

"Yes," she whispered finally.  "I have."

His hand moved up her inner thigh in response, pushing aside her damp panties to slide a finger inside her slick folds.

"And what of this?" he asked, thumb circling her clit as she arched into his hand.  A second finger joined the first in sliding into her, drawing the answer out of her on short gasps of breath.
"Ye-es," she shuddered, admitting it aloud to herself more than to him.  "All of it, all of you."  She was moving over his hand, aware that her inhibitions were melting away rapidly and not giving a damn.  When his mouth moved to join his hand on her, she became a writhing mass of need.  "Jason," was all she got out before he was sucking on her clit, and flicking it with his tongue at the same time, finding a rhythm that flowed into the pace of his fingers.

It seemed like an eternity that she hung on the edge of oblivion, desperate to keep that one barrier up, one wall with which to hide from the things he was doing to her, but as his eyes lifted up to meet her gaze, she couldn't control herself.  The realization finally struck that this was actually him between her legs watching every nuance of emotion that crossed her face, and a scream tore from her as she tumbled over into the abyss of climax.

Her eyes opened to see his strong arms holding himself over her as he put on a condom.  He settled himself at her entrance and she spread her legs wider for him, her body moving of its own accord.  He slid inside her easily, filling her and stilling himself a moment to get accustomed to her tight heat.

"Yes," she said, voice hoarse.  "Fuck me, Jason."

And he did, slamming into her on top of his kitchen island.  She met each thrust with enthusiasm, arching as he hit a particularly good angle.  His name became a mantra on her lips, and she propped herself up on her elbows to watch their bodies meet.  It was quite possibly the most erotic sight she had ever had, and she groaned as he pulled her head back by her hair, and nibbled along her throat.

He was sucking on the sensitive skin behind her ear and she groaned from the pleasure of it.  Her body had longed for this for ages, and it was building up to a second climax at an alarming rate.  Just as she was hovering on the brink, he nipped her - sending her careening once more.  She could feel him tense over her, then, and as his breath started to come in shallow pants as well, he groaned out her name.

After a few moments of stillness, he slid out of her and smiled.

"I think we did a superb job on the kitchen today, Marcia.  I'll help you clean the bedroom next," he said, helping her off the counter.  "And then perhaps we'll move on to cleaning the bathroom."

Marcia smiled as he strode off, gorgeously nude, towards his bedroom.  She took it back.  She wouldn't change anything about her life.