Staring At Her Ass

The kitchen was a sprawling masterpiece of stainless steel and black marble, currently filled with the savory aroma of roasting chicken and caramelized garlic.

"Pass me those chopped vegetables." Agata pointed toward the wooden cutting board resting at the far end of the massive counter.

Gemma gathered the diced carrots and celery into a glass bowl, sliding it across the smooth marble to the older woman. They had spent the last hour working side by side, preparing a lavish dinner for their boss. Gemma had just finished whisking a thick chicken gravy and mashing a large pot of boiled potatoes.

Agata dipped a small silver tasting spoon into the dark brown gravy, blowing on it gently before taking a sip. Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. "I have to say, I am impressed. This gravy is rich and seasoned to perfection. You cook like you have been running a professional kitchen for decades."

"The sisters at the monastery taught me." Gemma wiped her damp hands on her crisp white apron, offering a warm, humble smile. "Every Saturday after morning mass, they gave us intensive cooking lessons. They grew their own herbs and vegetables, making it easy for me to play around with different ingredients and flavor profiles. As I got older and more experienced, I started making the daily meals for the younger orphans."

Agata scooped the fluffy mashed potatoes into a heated porcelain serving dish, spreading them out with a wooden spatula. "I always struggle with mashed potatoes. They usually end up lumpy or too dry. But since you are here, I have a feeling I will get the hang of it very soon." Her eyes lit up with fascination and relief at having such a competent helper.

"I will teach you everything I know, Ma'am." Gemma promised brightly, her hazel eyes shining with eagerness to please. "It is all about adding the butter while the potatoes are steaming hot."

They finished transferring the prepared dishes into the warming oven. Gemma glanced up at the grand vintage wall clock hanging above the pantry door. It was already past eight in the evening. She wondered if their boss usually came home this late. He lived in a sprawling estate, so she assumed he worked tirelessly to maintain such wealth.

Agata untied her apron and tossed it onto a wooden bar stool. "I will go get cleaned up first. If Lorenzo shows up early, serve him his dinner right away. If I am back before then, I will handle serving him myself so you can go take a shower and settle into your room."

"Okay." Gemma nodded, her soft, melodious voice earning a reassuring smile from the older housekeeper.

Agata hurried out of the kitchen, her footsteps fading down the hallway as she headed straight for the servant quarters.

Left alone in the cavernous space, Gemma decided to tackle the messy counters and the deep sink full of dirty pots. She did not want Agata to come back and stress over a messy kitchen. She turned on the brass faucet, letting the warm water cascade over a soapy sponge, humming a quiet hymn as she began scrubbing the gravy pan.

Lorenzo stepped through the towering oak front doors of his estate, loosening his dark silk tie after a long day at the syndicate. Silvia Valli trailed right behind him, her towering stilettos clicking against the pristine marble foyer. Her tight red dress clung to her curves, and her breathing remained slightly uneven from their unfinished encounter in his office. Silvia was his childhood friend, a woman he had grown up alongside. For years, people in their circle assumed they would eventually marry and merge their families' power. Lorenzo held no romantic feelings for her, but Silvia harbored a deep obsession with him. Eventually, she had proposed a purely sexual arrangement with no strings attached. After one night of relentless seduction, Lorenzo figured it was a practical release. She gave him unrestricted access to her body, letting him do whatever dirty, sinful things he pleased to her for as long as she desired.

"Is anyone home?" Silvia asked, dropping her designer purse onto the entry table.

A faint clattering of ceramic plates and running water echoed from the kitchen down the shadowed hall.

"Probably Agata." Lorenzo unbuttoned his tailored suit jacket, tossing it over the grand staircase banister. "Go upstairs to my bedroom. I will check on the noise and join you in a few minutes."

Silvia shot him a heated, promising look, running her tongue over her red lips before heading up the winding staircase.

Lorenzo rolled up his crisp dress shirt sleeves, exposing his tattooed forearms as he walked down the corridor toward the kitchen. The splashing water grew louder with every step. He stepped through the arched doorway and immediately stopped dead in his tracks.

A woman stood at the kitchen sink, her back facing him. She possessed a pair of round, firm curves that strained against the plain fabric of her maid's uniform. Lorenzo tilted his head, his dark, predatory eyes narrowing in confusion. Did his elderly housekeeper magically sprout a tight, youthful ass overnight? He stood still, leaning against the doorframe to shamelessly admire the exquisite view in front of him. The woman's rear end was a flawless piece of work, an alluring sight that shifted rhythmically as she scrubbed a heavy iron pan.

Halfway through rinsing the dishes, Gemma sensed a heavy presence looming behind her. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up. She assumed Agata had rushed through her shower and returned to the kitchen.

"I am almost done here, Ma'am." Gemma spoke over her shoulder, placing the clean pan on the drying rack. "I will go get cleaned up in just a minute."

Lorenzo remained silent, his gaze raking over her form.

Gemma dried her hands on a cotton towel and turned around to face the center of the room.

She froze. Pure terror spiked through her veins, freezing the breath in her lungs and locking her knees in place.

A towering, muscular man stood blocking the kitchen exit. His broad shoulders and immense size made her feel terrifyingly small. The muscles of his chest and arms looked ready to pop the buttons off his expensive shirt. He radiated a dark, intimidating aura that instantly suffocated the warm air in the room. Having spent her entire life sheltered behind stone monastery walls, surrounded only by gentle nuns and aging priests, panic seized her trembling body. Was this a dangerous intruder? But the estate security would never let a stranger inside the guarded gates.

Lorenzo stared at her, stunned.

An angel had manifested in his kitchen. He studied her face, mesmerized by her ethereal beauty. Her fair skin glowed with a flawless, porcelain purity, reminding him of the morning sun shimmering over a calm lake. Her pouty lips were parted in shock, drawing his rapt attention to her striking hazel eyes framed by thick, dark lashes. Her blonde hair was swept up into a neat, practical bun, exposing the slender, vulnerable column of her neck. The modest knee-length uniform dress did no justice to the soft, feminine curves he had just been admiring from behind.

Gemma’s knuckles turned bone white. She grabbed the wet washing sponge from the sink, gripping it in her hands and squeezing it as if it were her only lifeline against the giant standing before her.

Lorenzo’s dark gaze dropped to her trembling, delicate hands. His mind flashed with a wicked, vivid image of those small fingers wrapping tightly and firmly around his hard dick. For a fleeting, irrational second, he envied that pathetic yellow sponge trapped in her tight grasp.

He shook off his lustful daze, his jaw clenching tight. He needed to figure out who the hell this stunning creature was.

"Who are you, and what are you doing here?" Lorenzo demanded, his deep, commanding voice bouncing off the tiled walls.

Gemma flinched at the harsh sound, instinctively bowing her head. She kept her wide eyes glued to the expensive black leather of his dress shoes.

"Good evening, Sir. My name is Gemma, and I am the new maid." She introduced herself in a soothing, quiet voice.

The soft, melodic tone stirred something foreign and warm in Lorenzo's chest. He wanted to ask if she was the one replacing Ilaria, but he quickly rubbed the back of his neck, realizing this innocent girl would have no idea what he was talking about or who Ilaria even was.

"Where is Agata?" Lorenzo asked instead, keeping his tone measured.

"She is in her room." Gemma peeked up through her long lashes, her death grip on the sponge loosening just a fraction. "Should I serve your dinner, Sir?"

Lorenzo looked at the prepared plates sitting on the counter. His stomach was empty after a long day of dealing with mafia associates, but his hunger had suddenly shifted elsewhere.

"Do not bother. I am not hungry." Lorenzo replied with calm politeness. The gentle delivery shocked him to his core. Since when did he speak to any woman with such careful restraint?

"Okay, Sir. I will just finish cleaning up and leave." Gemma murmured, her cheeks flushing a pretty shade of pink under his intense scrutiny.

She turned her back to him, returning her attention to the soapy sink.

Lorenzo gritted his teeth. That ass was going to be the death of him. It took every ounce of his willpower and sheer might to finally tear his eyes away from her captivating, curvy figure. Why was he so fiercely affected by this girl? He had seen countless beautiful women in his line of work, yet this sheltered, panicking maid had his blood roaring and his cock twitching in his slacks.

Deeply disoriented by the intense physical attraction, Lorenzo abruptly spun on his heel. He strode out of the kitchen, his boots hitting the hardwood floor with heavy, determined thuds. The new housekeeper could wait until tomorrow when he had a sane mind to properly interrogate her. He needed a physical outlet right this second. He headed straight for the stairs, desperate to reach his bedroom. He was going to ruthlessly fuck Silvia, bury his cock deep inside her wet pussy, and fiercely erase the overwhelming, maddening effect the new maid just had on his system.