Elena woke to the soft chime of her phone alarm at five-forty-five. The penthouse still slept above her, a beast breathing slow. Paint flecks lingered under her nails no matter how hard she scrubbed last night. Victoria's taste clung to the back of her tongue like a secret she swallowed again and again. She rolled from the narrow bed, bare feet hitting cold tile. The borrowed silk nightie slid up her hips as she stretched, cool air kissing the places Victoria had marked with teeth and tongue.
She showered fast, water pounding the ache from her thighs. Uniform today felt different: black dress pressed crisp, apron starched until it crackled. She tied the bow slow, fingers deliberate. The lace panties Victoria had worn yesterday stayed folded in her drawer now, trophy and talisman. She slipped Julian's floor key into her pocket instead, metal warm from her palm. His room came last on the schedule, always last, as if the penthouse itself guarded its quietest heart.
Elevator up. Cart wheels whispered over marble. She started in the hall, dusting frames that held stiff ancestors in oil. Light crept across the city, turning glass towers pink. She worked methodical, cloth gliding, mind replaying Victoria's mouth between her legs, the wet drag of tongue on swollen clit. Heat flared fresh. She pressed thighs together and kept moving.
Alexander emerged at seven sharp, suit charcoal today, tie the same navy silk she had soaked twice. He paused at the threshold of his study, coffee in hand. Eyes raked her slow, possessive. "Morning, Miss Reyes." Voice gravel over honey.
"Sir." She dipped her head, cheeks warm. He stepped close enough for cologne to flood her senses, then continued down the hall. The tie brushed his chest like a claim.
She exhaled shaky and wheeled toward Julian's wing. Music leaked faint under the door, lo-fi beats with a bass line that pulsed in her bones. She knocked twice, soft. No answer. She used the key, lock clicking like a heartbeat.
The room swallowed light. Blackout curtains drawn tight, only the glow of three monitors painting everything blue. Julian sat hunched in an ergonomic chair, hoodie zipped high, headphones clamped over dark curls. Code scrolled endless, green symbols marching. Empty energy-drink cans formed a tower beside him. He did not notice her at first.
She started at the periphery, gathering mugs crusted with yesterday's coffee. His trash overflowed with candy wrappers and crumpled printouts. She bent to tie the bag, skirt riding high. The motion caught his peripheral. Headphones slipped down to his neck.
"Elena." Voice cracked on the second syllable. He cleared his throat. "You're early."
"Schedule says eight on Thursdays." She smiled gentle, straightening. "Didn't mean to startle you."
He rubbed the back of his neck, cheeks flushing rose under olive skin. Eyes flicked to her legs, then away fast. "It's fine. I lose track."
She moved to the windows, cracked the curtains an inch. Morning spilled in, catching dust motes like glitter. Julian squinted, then relaxed. She dusted the sill slow, body stretching. Hoodie rode up his forearms, revealing pale skin and faint blue veins. A thin silver band circled his left ring finger, simple, almost hidden.
"Music's good," she offered, nodding at the speakers.
He startled again, as if compliment was foreign. "Playlist's public. I can share the link."
"I'd like that." She turned, feather duster trailing over his desk. Monitors reflected her cleavage in the black dress, deep shadow between breasts. Julian's gaze snagged there, then darted guilty to the floor.
She bent to retrieve a fallen cable, knees brushing his. Static jumped between them. He inhaled sharp. She felt it in her core, the shy hunger radiating off him like heat from a server. She lingered close, coiling the cord slow.
"You okay?" she asked soft.
He nodded too fast. "Yeah. Just... coding all night."
She noticed the bulge in his sweatpants then, unmistakable, thickening as she watched. He shifted, trying to hide it behind the desk. She pretended not to see, but her own pulse kicked hard.
"Want breakfast?" she tried. "I make killer café con leche."
He hesitated, then nodded small. "In a minute. Need to save this build."
She left him typing frantic, door ajar. Kitchen next. She brewed coffee strong, milk steamed frothy. Added cinnamon like her abuela taught. Poured two mugs, carried them back on a tray with warm pan dulce from the bakery box.
Julian had spun the chair to face the door. Hoodie unzipped now, t-shirt clinging to narrow shoulders. He took the mug careful, fingers brushing hers. Spark again, softer this time.
"Gracias," he murmured. First Spanish she had heard in the house. Accent perfect, city Puerto Rican under the tech polish.
She leaned against the desk, sipping. "You speak?"
"Mom's side. Abuela in Washington Heights." He smiled shy, real this time. "You?"
"Bronx. Fordham Road." They shared a look, two borough kids in Manhattan sky.
Silence settled comfortable. She watched him drink, throat working. A crumb of dulce clung to his lower lip. Without thinking, she reached and brushed it away with her thumb. He froze, eyes wide behind glasses.
"Sorry," she whispered.
"Don't be." Voice barely air.
She let her thumb linger, tracing the curve of his lip. Soft, fuller than expected. He parted them slight, breath warm on her skin. She felt the shift, the moment curiosity tipped into want.
"Julian." His name tasted careful.
He set the mug down blind, hand rising to cover hers. Fingers slim, callused from keys. He pressed her palm to his cheek, eyes closing. Stubble faint, barely there. She stepped closer, between his knees. The chair rolled back an inch.
"Tell me to stop," she said.
He shook his head once. She leaned down, slow enough for retreat. Lips met gentle, testing. His were warm, coffee-sweet. He sighed into her mouth, tentative tongue touching hers. She deepened the kiss, hand sliding to his nape, curling into soft hair.
He responded clumsy but eager, hands settling on her waist like she might vanish. She felt his hardness press against her thigh through thin sweatpants. Thick, surprising. She rocked subtle, friction drawing a whimper from him.
She broke the kiss, forehead to his. "Breathe."
He laughed shaky. "Trying."
She sank to her knees between his legs, carpet rough under stockings. Hands on his thighs, pushing them wider. His eyes went huge.
"Elena."
"Shh." She nuzzled the bulge, felt it twitch. "Let me take care of you."
He nodded frantic. She tugged sweatpants down slow, cock springing free. Long, pale, curved slight toward his belly. Veins delicate, head flushed dark. Pre-cum already beaded at the slit. She licked it away, salt and want. He gasped, hips jerking.
She took him deeper, lips stretching. Tongue swirled under the crown. He tasted clean, faint soap and nervous sweat. She hummed, vibration making him curse soft. Hands tangled gentle in her hair, not pushing, just anchoring.
She worked him steady, hand stroking what her mouth could not reach. His breathing turned ragged, thighs trembling. She cupped his balls, rolling gentle. They drew tight.
"Close," he warned, voice cracking.
She pulled off just enough to speak. "Come in my mouth."
He did with a broken cry, hips bucking. Hot pulses coated her tongue, thick and slightly sweet. She swallowed every drop, milking him through aftershocks. When he stilled, she tucked him back soft, kissed the tip once more.
He hauled her up into his lap, kissing desperate. Tasted himself on her tongue and groaned. Arms wrapped tight around her waist. She felt his heart hammer against her breasts.
"Thank you," he whispered into her neck.
She stroked his hair. "Anytime."
Reality crept back. Monitors glowed, code waiting. She slid from his lap, knees shaky. Straightened her apron. He watched, dazed, lips swollen.
"I should finish dusting," she said.
He nodded slow. "Yeah. Okay."
She worked the rest of the room in a haze. Vacuumed under his desk, bent over long enough for him to see the wet spot on her thong. He groaned quiet. When she reached his bookshelf, she rose on tiptoes, skirt riding. His hand settled on her calf, tracing stocking lace.
"Careful," he murmured.
She glanced back. "Or what?"
He stood, pressed behind her. Cock already half-hard again against her ass. Hands slid up her thighs, under the skirt. Fingers found soaked lace, pressed gentle.
"You're dripping," he breathed, wonder in his voice.
"Blame yourself." She pushed back, grinding.
He slipped the thong aside, one finger sliding through slick folds. She bit her lip to stay quiet. He circled her clit slow, learning. Added a second finger, shallow thrusts. She widened her stance, forehead to the shelf.
"More," she whispered.
He curled them, found her spot. She clenched hard, juices coating his hand. Thumb pressed her clit firm. Climax built swift, legs shaking. He kissed her neck, teeth grazing.
"Come for me," he echoed her earlier words.
She did, muffling the cry in her arm. Pussy spasmed, squirting down his wrist. He held her through it, fingers gentle as she came down.
They straightened clothes slow, stealing kisses. She finished the room spotless, mirrors gleaming. He returned to his chair, flushed and glowing.
"Playlist link," he said, voice steady now. "Sending it."
Her phone buzzed in her pocket. She smiled. "Thank you."
She wheeled the cart out, door closing soft. Hall felt colder after his warmth. She leaned against the wall a moment, thighs sticky, heart full.
Rest of the morning passed in chores. She changed Victoria's sheets again, smiling at the faint paint smudges that refused to lift. Polished Alexander's desk, tie absent today. He watched from the doorway once, silent, eyes dark.
Lunch alone. She ate standing, replaying Julian's taste, the way he trembled. Afternoon brought laundry. She folded his hoodies, inhaling boy and code and faint cum. Buried her face in one, rubbing thighs together until she came quiet against the dryer's hum.
Evening. Family dinner. Julian sat across from her serving station, eyes meeting hers bold now. Victoria fed Alexander a bite, gaze flicking to Elena with secret heat. Alexander's foot found hers under the table again, but gentler, almost questioning.
Dessert: flan. Julian took two spoons, offered her one across the table. She leaned in, let him feed her. Caramel on his thumb. She licked it clean slow. Victoria's smile sharpened. Alexander's grip tightened on his fork.
Dishes done. She retreated to her room, body singing. Shower long, fingers lazy between her legs. She came thinking of Julian's shy mouth, Victoria's commanding one, Alexander's unspoken promise.
Midnight. Message from Julian: playlist and a single emoji, blushing face. She smiled, added it to her library. Fell asleep to the beat he chose, bass low in her blood.
Morning waited with new chores. The quiet son no longer quiet. The penthouse shifted subtle, walls leaning in to listen. Dust settled elsewhere now. Desire rose thick as code compiling line by line.
She dreamed of three mouths on her skin, three heartbeats syncing. Woke wet and ready. The game widened, another player on the board. She welcomed the weight.