Page 1 of Falling for Them (Cinderella’s Daddies #1)

One

Ella

This vacuum is the quietest on the market.

It’s quieter than my vibrator, even. Quiet cleaning appliances are important to a business like Maids in Heaven, because Maids in Heaven caters to the kinds of companies that require quiet, unobtrusive cleaning services.

My boss at Maids in Heaven is always reminding us to work beneath our clients’ notice, to not draw any attention to ourselves.

Until recently, I’ve done a damned good job of keeping a low profile.

But through some fucking miracle, one of the higher-ups at Tyler Analytics, where I’ve been cleaning at night for the past few weeks, has noticed me.

That higher-up is Joel Tyler, the CEO’s son. And right now, as I’m vacuuming the hallway outside of his office, he’s watching me through the interior windows with a sexy gleam in his bright blue eyes. I can’t resist giving him a wink as I move past.

A minute later, his office door swings open and he steps out. I take in his reflection from the dark office windows opposite him. Tall, lanky, like he hasn’t quite grown into his frame. He’s nearly there, and he has the body of an athlete. But he isn’t nearly as large or impressive as his father.

“Ella, hey,” he says, giving me a slow smile.

“Hi, Joel.”

“Want me to order some Chinese?”

I grin and nod. I’ve never eaten so well as I have since I started dating Joel. “Yeah, that would be great. Heavy on the veggies, okay?”

He rolls his eyes. But it’s playful…I think. “Sure, whatever.”

He can hate on my vegetables all he wants, but fresh vegetables are expensive. Most of what I eat at home comes from cans. But when Joel orders dinner, it comes from the best restaurants that use the freshest ingredients, and I want to get all the nutrients possible.

Joel sidles closer to me and touches my arm. I shut off the vacuum and lean toward him.

Abruptly, he steps away. I follow his gaze toward movement down the hall. It’s another man who works here—I know him by sight, not by name. It’s rare for people other than Mr. Tyler or Joel to work quite this late, since we’re nearing ten p.m., but sometimes it happens.

“Well, don’t forget to empty the wastebaskets this time, miss,” Joel says in a loud voice.

Miss ? Why is he calling me miss ?

Then I get it—he’s trying to make up an excuse for talking to me out here. Because hell, it would be a disaster if someone suspected we were dating.

Not really a disaster, though. Maids in Heaven is a contractual firm. I don’t work for Joel’s company. There’s nothing in the rules that says we can’t date. He just doesn’t want to admit it to anyone.

“Did you hear me?” Joel asks, frowning at me. “The copy room wastebaskets.”

I glare up at him, trying not to let my hurt show on my face. If he doesn’t want to be open with his coworkers about our relationship, fine. But he doesn’t need to be a dick about it, either.

“What’s up, Grant?” Joel asks the guy walking toward us.

“Finishing some reports for a client,” Grant says, looking between Joel and me with curiosity.

As soon as Grant walks away, Joel pulls me closer and whispers, “Meet me in the supply closet in ten minutes.”

He doesn’t wait for me to say yes or no, just strides back into his office like he doesn’t have a care in the world.

Because of course he doesn’t have a care in the world. Joel has grown up in a society that appreciates him—or rather, it appreciates his money, his skin tone, and his heteronormative existence. And I—I appreciate his sexy physique, his blue eyes, and…and maybe that’s it?

It seems wrong that I don’t like him more. We’ve been dating for a month, if you can call sharing take-out and then fucking in his office late at night, after everyone else in the building has gone home, “dating.”

But, he’s the CEO’s son. And he’s just nice enough, just attentive enough, and tries just hard enough, that I have hope this could be something more.

Besides, I’ve seen Joel’s father, the CEO. If Joel has any chance of growing into half the man his dad is, I’d be smart to stick around. Because Joel’s dad, Kingston Tyler? He takes my fucking breath away.

I return to vacuuming the hallway, thinking about how I’d like to empty the copy room wastebaskets all over Joel’s desk. My path takes me past the CEO’s office.

Kingston Tyler is sitting at his desk, his eyes on his computer screen. A frown line forms between his eyebrows while he concentrates. His dark hair is graying at the temples and whenever I see him, late in the evening, his five o’clock shadow is pronounced, with salt and pepper whiskers.

He shares his blue eyes with Joel, although Mr. Tyler’s eyes are more somber, a blue-gray that reminds me of punishing ocean waves, the kind I see in news footage of hurricanes on the east coast.

While I’m staring moony-eyed at him through his office window, he looks up. Those powerful blue-gray eyes clash with mine. Shit, fuck. Face flaming, I look away quickly and focus on the immaculate carpet in front of me.

No wonder he looked over; I’ve been working on this patch of the hallway for at least five minutes.

I should’ve moved on already. Quickly, I push the vacuum forward, away from Mr. Tyler’s office.

Working on the top floor of Tyler Analytics building is a dream come true, and I don’t want to fuck it up because of a ridiculous obsession with the CEO.

My boyfriend’s dad.

For fuck’s sake, Ella, what the hell are you doing? It isn’t the first time I’ve asked myself this question.

After five more minutes of mindless vacuuming, I head to the supply closet and ease open the door. I step inside and close the door after me.

The only light in the room comes from the crack at the bottom of the door, but I can smell Joel’s cologne so I know he’s already here.

“Hey,” he says, embracing me in the darkness.

I long to feel myself pushed up against the wall and fucked, but he merely holds me for a moment. I hug him back and accept his brief kiss. I hope he brought a condom, because even though he’s promised we’re exclusive, I’m not ready to trust him enough to fuck without protection.

Been there, done that. Got the t-shirt from the STD testing clinic to prove it.

My eyes adjust to the dim lighting. We’re surrounded by shelving units bearing cleaning supplies. I’m no stranger to this room—I frequently have to come in here to get my job done.

Joel steps away, unfastens his pants, and pulls out his cock. I reach for him, eager to feel him inside of me, even though his track record of satisfying me is spotty at best. Still, a girl’s gotta have hope. I can be fast with rubbing myself, and I might come while he’s still inside of me.

Sometimes I wonder if he even cares about giving me release, though. He occasionally goes through the motions of reciprocation, but it does nothing for me.

For being twenty-five years old, you’d think I would have more self-respect. Either I should make more of an effort to teach him what works for me, or I should cut him loose and find someone who makes me happy.

But…I haven’t worked up the nerve to do either of those things.

Instead of fumbling with my clothes, Joel presses down on my shoulder.

Freaking great. He wants head. I lower to my knees. The linoleum is cold and hard against them. I take his dick in my mouth, irritated at the way this is going. He certainly won’t press me against the wall and give me head after.

“Yeah, baby, like that,” Joel moans as I swirl my tongue over his cock.

I wonder if he calls me “baby” because he forgets my name in the heat of the moment.

Last week, he called me Carol instead of Ella .

No harm, no foul. Since the name slip-up, I feel no guilt when I imagine I’m sucking Mr. Tyler instead of Joel.

I hope that doesn’t make me a terrible person, but I would never accidentally call Joel by his dad’s name while in the throes of passion.

Especially if no throes are to be had.

I’ve tried directing Joel and asking him for what I want—something a little rough, a little dark, a little dirty. Whenever I ask, he smiles and kisses my cheek before laying me out on his office floor, where we do it missionary style and he breathes against my neck, never looking me in the eyes.

So I’ve stopped asking.

But now as I suck Joel, I think of his father, who is all gruff command, salt-and-pepper whiskers at the end of a long day, and frowning disapproval at everyone he sees.

My panties grow damp at the thought of that disapproving, stern scowl directed at me.

I don’t understand why, but the thought of Kingston Tyler’s stormy eyes locked on me and looking furious while I suck him off just does it for me.

My hand creeps down to the hem of my work uniform—a plain, navy sack of a dress with a prim white collar and cap sleeves. I reach between my legs and touch myself over my panties. If I move quickly enough, I could get off like this while I give Joel head.

I’m thinking of Mr. Tyler, imagining the way he’d be a little rough, maybe holding my head as he fucks my mouth. I hum around Joel’s cock at the idea, then dip my fingers inside my panties to stroke against my clit.

Little sparks of bliss gather in my pussy. My muscles clench on emptiness and I wish for a great big cock. I could be fucking a man who holds me down, restrains me, maybe blindfolds me so I’m wholly dependent on whatever sorts of filthy pleasure he feels like doling out.

Maybe that man could be someone like Kingston Tyler.

I bet he would pull me up to standing and push me against the wall and give me head. His whiskered cheeks would scrape against my inner thighs. He’d wait until I’m just about to come, and then he’d stop, spin me around, and fuck me from behind. I would scream with pleasure.

Arousal coats my fingers as I slide them over my folds. It would be so good with a man like Mr. Tyler. He would boss me around. Maybe even spank me.

My face feels hot at the very idea. I’ve never been spanked before. Who knows if I would even like it? But I sure as hell like thinking about it. I wonder if Joel would ever try it…

And with that, my pleasure diminishes, because I am pretty sure the answer would be no.

So I can’t think of that, not if I want to get off. My imagination takes me back to the fantasy interlude with Mr. Tyler, and how it could be him in here, taking what he wants from me and giving it back tenfold.

Yes. It would be so fucking good.

Just as I’m about to reach my climax, Joel comes without warning.

I swallow him down and sigh, tugging my hand out of my panties.

“You’re a great girlfriend. Thanks, babe,” he says, petting the side of my head.

Like I’m a fucking dog.

This has to end soon. I wonder if I’ll lose my job when I tell him it’s over?

He might complain about me to my boss, Melinda, at Maids in Heaven.

Melinda won’t appreciate the trouble. She’s usually understanding, but she might just fire me rather than deal with whatever problems Joel could create for her.

And I can’t afford to lose even a day’s pay—my shitty apartment doesn’t pay its own rent.

And the cockroaches aren’t paying their share, either.

Joel winks before patting his zipper and leaving the cleaning closet—and leaving me behind, sitting in the darkness.

I’m frustrated, my body craving a release it won’t get. Sure, I could finish myself off here, but the appeal is gone. Orgasming with a partner in a dark closet is hot. Orgasming alone in a dark closet is creepy.

I can’t keep doing this with Joel. This isn’t healthy, is it? I wish I had a girlfriend to talk things over with. But right now, Joel’s my only friend.

I’m left hollow at the thought that things have to end with him. Tears gather in my eyes, but I impatiently wipe them away. There’s no time for this. I have a job to do…for as long as I have a job, anyway.

As I’m straightening my clothes and standing up, the cleaning closet door opens. Maybe Joel dropped his wallet or something.

“Joel,” I say while I look toward the door.

The fluorescent lights blaze on, and I gasp.

I’m not looking at Joel.

I’m looking at his father.