Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
JOLIE
The hallway outside Master's chambers felt colder than the rest of the house. I pressed my palm against a shallow dent in the wooden door, and tried to slow my breathing. It didn't help. My pulse still slammed against my ribs like it wanted out.
This was only my second morning milking him.
Yesterday had been all stiff and formal, both of us pretending the first time hadn't happened the way it did.
Pretending I hadn't tasted him, and he hadn't looked at me like he was one second away from snapping the reins he worked so hard to keep wound so tightly around himself.
Then he'd sent Beatrice with a message that he'd have to skip the evening milking because of business.
I curled my fingers in the hem of my apron. Ugh. I couldn't believe I was fidgeting like a nervous child awaiting a principal's verdict.
Reaching out, I knocked twice, quicker than I meant to.
It was answered with silence.
My stomach tightened. Maybe he wasn't in there. Maybe he'd decided I'd done something wrong or wasn't worth the trouble, or—
"Enter." His voice slipped through the door. It was rough, gravelly and sent a shiver of pleasure down to my core just hearing it, and I had to work to keep my knees from buckling at the sound. I pushed inside before I could think my way out of it.
His chambers were dim, curtains still drawn. The faint glow from the fireplace caught the edge of his shoulders first.
He stood with his back to me, fastening a leather cuff around his wrist like the action needed careful control.
I waited just inside the door, not sure how close I was allowed to be yet. The floorboards creaked under my weight, betraying me.
He didn’t turn. “You’re late, Jolie.”
Only by a few minutes. Maybe less. The accusation still crawled under my skin, hot and embarrassing. Never mind, he kept me waiting outside for at least half of that.
“I—I came as fast as I could,” I whispered, words sticking to my tongue.
“Mmm.” A sound, not agreement, not dismissal. Just pressure.
He finally faced me.
His eyes flicked down my body, quick, like the touch I was so desperate for. A pulse jumped in my throat.
“Come,” he said, low enough that it felt like the air folded around the word.
I stepped forward a few slow strides and stopped when my toes nearly touched his. The heat coming off him soaked straight through my clothes. Today he smelt faintly of smoke and something darker that made the knot in my stomach tighten with nerves.
His gaze settled on my mouth for a fraction too long.
“Do you remember your duties?” he asked.
I nodded, then realized he might want words. “Yes, Master.”
A soft inhale from him. The sound was sharp and loud in the quiet room.
“Good,” he murmured. “Then you know what comes next.”
My hands twitched. Not from fear—well, not entirely. I couldn’t look away from the way his breath picked up.
I wet my lower lip without thinking, and I watched in fascination as his eyes tracked the movement.
Something in him tightened. A barely-there shift of his shoulders, as if he had to stop himself from reaching for me. And every move this man—no this monster—made just drove me wilder with a need I had no clue what to do with.
“Proceed,” he said, voice steady but stretched thin at the edges.
With slow careful movements I undid his trousers, letting them pool on the floor at our feet. As with the previous two times he wasn't wearing anything underneath and the second his manhood was freed it sprang up, almost as if to greet me, and my mouth watered at the sight.
And what a sight.
The small taste I'd had the first time I'd done this wasn't nearly enough for me. It was practically all I could think about when I lay in my bed at night.
Master let out a low grunt when my small hand wrapped around his large, rigid cock. It jumped in my hand, and before I'd done even one complete jerk on his erection there was already a steady stream of precum dripping from the head.
And it was being wasted.
Landing on the floor.
The ache between my legs increased as I milked my master's mast, so I chanced a look at him only to find him with his head thrown back and his eyes closed. The expression on his face was pure ecstasy.
What happened next, couldn't be helped. Especially not with his attention diverted from me for the moment.
Ever thankful for the skirt of the uniform Beatrice had insisted I wear at all times while tending to Master, I snuck a hand up it, straight to the aching, wet core that begged for something more.
My panties were a ruined mess, but it didn't matter. The only thing that did was the feel of Master's cock in my hand and my finger heading straight for my clit.
Master started thrusting into my tight grip, and I worried he would be finishing soon, so I increased the pressure on myself.
Today, I would not be denied.
He didn't want me to taste him? Fine. But fuck if I wouldn't let myself feel some pleasure while ensuring the Master's release.
The faster he moved his hips, the quicker I flicked at the little button, almost making my eyes roll back at the too-sharp sensation. I bit down on my lip to keep the sounds from escaping as Master grunted low and deep with each thrust.
And then, he came with a roar, thick white ropes of cum shooting over my hand and apron right before my knees buckled as I succumbed to my own orgasm.
It took everything inside me to stop myself from falling down in front of him and licking up the precious spilt liquid. And I kept my face carefully lowered to the floor, terrified, now that the moment had passed that Master had known what I was doing and would punish me.
Or worse... send me away.
After his breathing slowed down and he stepped away from me without an admonishment or word spoken, I rushed to wash my hands before taking my leave.