The Unfilial Boss Woman

Chapter 3

Patrick had just finished rubbing his arms and thighs when his bedroom door flung open. He was completely unclothed, having tossed his white towel onto the executive blue couch in his bedroom.

Without warning, the young maid stepped into his personal chamber, carrying a tray of food in her hands. He recognized her from earlier and was momentarily confused—hadn’t she left already?

"Oh my goodness!" Loveth exclaimed, her voice trembling. She hadn’t expected to see the young master without clothes. Her eyes widened as she quickly looked away, swallowing hard and almost losing her grip on the tray of food. But then she remembered Mrs. Eleanor's instructions about Patrick's weak stomach, and she tightened her hold on the tray, determined to complete her task.

"I’m sorry, sir," Loveth stammered, her voice barely above a whisper. "I didn’t mean to intrude on your privacy."

Patrick stared at her, stunned and boiling with anger. He hadn’t expected anyone to invade his room, let alone this young maid. His confusion grew as he noticed the tray—how was it the same tray she’d had earlier? He remained silent, his blood running hot as he processed the intrusion.

Loveth, nervous from his silence, glanced around the large bedroom. Unsure of where to set the tray, she debated whether to leave with it entirely. But Patrick’s cold voice broke her thoughts:

"What are you still doing in here?"

"I… I…" Loveth’s voice faltered as she raised her head. Her black eyes inadvertently landed on Patrick’s body—and the sight of his erect manhood made her gasp. Her cheeks flushed, and she quickly looked away, her heart pounding.

"I came to deliver your dinner, sir," she finally managed to say. "Madam said you have a weak stomach, and I thought it was important to bring your dinner here. She looked so sad when I told her you left without responding to me earlier."

"Hmm…" Patrick hummed, still saying little. He turned and walked back toward the blue couch, his bare skin glistening under the soft bedroom lighting. Loveth noticed the purple and blue accents in the room and realized his preference for those colors.

Patrick picked up his towel and tied it around his waist before turning back to her, his expression still cold. "Bring it over here," he ordered, gesturing to the table near the black chair. "Set it down and leave."

Loveth hesitated but quickly obeyed, walking toward the table. As she approached, her left arm inadvertently brushed against Patrick’s. She froze immediately, her skin erupting in goosebumps.

"I’m sorry, sir," she whispered nervously, trembling. "I didn’t mean to touch you."

Patrick stood still, his gaze piercing. He knew she was nervous, and her reaction only fueled his curiosity. Loveth, on the other hand, felt her heart race as she tried to steady herself. She wasn’t used to being this close to a man—especially not one like Patrick.

Loveth had never been intimate with anyone before, though her best friend Nancy Leo had often teased her about men and the advantages of dating a wealthy, handsome one. Loveth’s modest upbringing—her mother a local council worker and her father a taxi driver—meant she lived a simple life, far removed from the world of luxury she now found herself in.

Her thoughts were interrupted when Patrick suddenly leaned toward her, his hand wrapping around her slim waist. She gasped, her body stiffening as his bare hand lingered on her.

"What do you smell like… milk?" Patrick asked, his deep voice laced with curiosity as he leaned closer, sniffing her lightly.

Loveth gulped, her black eyes meeting his dark, smoldering gaze. She struggled to respond, her mind blank as she felt something hard and rigid pressing against her. She shuddered in his hold, but Patrick released her almost as suddenly as he had grabbed her.

He stared at her intently, his eyes scanning her pretty, yellow-toned face. "Have we met before?" he asked, his tone softer but no less intense.

Loveth opened her mouth to respond, but before she could say a word, Patrick’s lips brushed against hers. She froze, her eyes wide with shock as his kiss deepened. She had never kissed anyone before—not even the boy from her village who had once asked her out.

Patrick’s kiss was firm, demanding, and utterly overwhelming. His hands slid down her waist, gripping her firmly. Loveth wanted to push him away, but her body betrayed her, her hands instinctively wrapping around his waist as she surrendered to the unfamiliar yet intoxicating sensation.

Patrick lifted Loveth effortlessly, carrying her to his king-sized bed with its pristine white bedspread. She clung to him for support, her mind spinning as she realized what was happening.

Patrick laid her down gently, his towel slipping off to reveal his full length. Loveth’s eyes widened in fear as she sat up on the bed, her voice trembling.

"I’m sorry, sir. Please, let me go!" she begged, her pleading black eyes staring at him.

But Patrick was too far gone. His desire burned through him, and he wasn’t listening. In his mind, she had entered his room deliberately, knowing he was undressed, and he believed she wanted this as much as he did.

"Why are you calling me ‘sir’?" Patrick asked, his voice low as he cupped her cheeks with both hands, forcing her to look at him. His thumb brushed over her lips, and he added, "Your lips… they’re so naturally pink. Did you put something on them?"

"No," Loveth whispered, her voice barely audible.

As she tried to sit up properly, her hand accidentally brushed against Patrick’s manhood. He let out a low moan, making her gasp in horror.

"I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to touch you there!" she exclaimed, her face a mixture of panic and embarrassment.

Patrick, however, took her hand and placed it back on him deliberately. "You can touch me there if you want," he said, his voice thick with desire. "Isn’t that why you’re here?"

Loveth tried to pull away, shaking her head. "No!"

Patrick smiled, "Fine, you can suck me."

"No. How can I do that?" she asked, her voice trembling.

Patrick frowned, his irritation growing. He didn’t believe her innocence. Seeing him prepare to leave, Loveth instinctively grabbed his left arm to stop him, but her effort to pull him back caused him to lose balance and fall on top of her.

For a moment, Patrick lay there, his head resting against her chest. The alcohol in his system left him weak, and he felt strangely comforted by her soft warmth.

His thoughts grew darker as he imagined removing her maid’s uniform to explore her fully.