Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
MASTER
Shit. Fuck. Bloody-fucking-hell. I should have known she wouldn't be my salvation but my downfall.
That's the only way to describe what was happening with Jolie.
For the first time in years, my mind was... quiet. Horrifyingly quiet.
Not even after months of forcing the maids to drain the worst of the madness out of me twice a day did I ever feel this... lucid.
Which could only mean one thing.
She was a trap.
Or a curse.
Or a beautifully wrapped piece of fate specifically designed to ruin me.
Because there was no universe—not in this life or the next—where a pretty girl should be able to make me feel anything like this. Yet here I was, standing over her bed, in the dead of night like some unhinged psychopath, staring at her as though she were the last tether holding me to the world.
My fingers hovered above her shoulder now. I could almost feel her warmth without even touching. It would be so easy to lean down, just enough to capture those plump, well used lips in a kiss.
I curled my hand back into a fist before I could betray myself.
Pathetic.
I should have left the moment I realised she was awake earlier. Should have stayed away after what she asked me to let her do. After what I did to her.
But instead, here I am.
Still staring at her as she wiggles, trying to soothe the ache between her legs.
And my damned cock was still rock hard, not even close to done with Jolie.
Her eyes blinked slowly, coming into focus as she zeroed in on me.
"Master...?" she breathed, and I had to suppress a groan at the sound of that title on her lips.
My gut twisted into a hot, miserable knot. I should have stepped back. Should have vanished into the corridor like the sane man I suddenly was, while I still had a grip on myself.
But instead, I stood there, rooted, every instinct—dark and territorial—rising under my skin.
"Did I not please you, Master?"
I didn't answer.
I couldn't.
Because the truth was simple.
Nothing in my life, no power, no riches, no fame, had ever pleased me more.
She shifted again, and my attention moved to the supple curves hidden under her sleep shirt.
I was desperate to see them.
Touch them.
Taste them.
"Did I do something wrong?" she asked, voice small, threaded with fear.
Fear that she'd perhaps disappointed me?
Dear goddess, the way she asked it hit me straight in my heart and my cock.
A low noise pushed up my throat before I could stop it. I clenched my jaw so tightly I felt my teeth grind.
"You did nothing wrong, pretty flower," I forced out, unable to leave her worried and tense. "But you can go back to sleep now."
But she ignored me.
Of course she did.
She pushed up until she was resting on her legs, and her eyes glinted in the moonlight with an infuriating curiosity and hunger that made the beast inside me roar.
"What if I don't want to go back to sleep?"
My brows furrowed as I took in her tongue peeking out and wetting her already sodden lips. "Pretty flower, what you want isn't a factor here. I'm done with you. Go to sleep."
She squirmed and her chest rose in rapid breaths as she squared her shoulders.
"Is that an order... Master?"
The pause before my title was way too long. It was almost a taunt. A challenge.
My only response was to growl at her.
"What will you do if I don't obey?" she asked, her eyes wide, her mouth open slightly as she... panted?
I stared at her, unable to form a response. What would I do? What could I do that wouldn't escalate the situation?
"Would you spank me, Master? Would you turn me over your knee and show me who's the master and who's the naughty little slave girl?"
Bloody-fucking-hell.
She was going to be the death of me. My undoing.
And I couldn't find it in me to care anymore.
"Jolie," I said, one last time, my voice low, the tone a warning.
She shivered.
And it wasn't in fear.
"Master," she whispered back.
That was when I knew I was lost.
My hand hovered again, inches above her jaw.
Her breath caught, and she leaned ever so slightly toward my touch without going all the way.
It was as if she knew. Knew that it wasn't her place to make that first move.
I closed my eyes, just for a heartbeat, trying to steady myself. Trying to pretend I still had a choice, even though we both knew I probably lost my choice the moment she set foot into the house.
When I opened my eyes again, she was still there, waiting for me. Ready for me.
And the decision I'd been fighting slid into place.
I wasn't going to send her away.
She would be claimed.
Owned.
Used exactly as she already ached to be.
"Remember, Jolie, you asked for this," I warned her.
The pretty flower nodded her response to me as she stared at me, not blinking.
"You understand that doing this... being with me... isn't like a fairytale romance? I'm not some prince who will worship you. You will obey me. And if you're a good little milkmaid, I'll reward you."
"Reward me?" she asked, her voice so soft I almost didn't hear it.
"Yes, Jolie. Reward you. Only if I'm satisfied with your service will I allow you the pleasure you so desperately crave. And I'll warn you, pretty flower, I am not easily satisfied."
Her pupils were blown, and her chest rose and fell in rapid breaths as she stared at me.
And then she rocked my world.
"Promise?"
Dear goddess.
She was going to be the death of me.
I growled before grabbing hold of her arms and pulling her up out of the bed so her body was flush against mine. "Do you consent, Jolie? Do you consent to being my naughty milkmaid? Will you obey me in all things?”
She nodded.
I growled again and enjoyed the shiver that ran through her before claiming her well-used lips in a deep, bruising kiss, before ripping her nightshirt from her body.
She mewled into my mouth, her soft, naked body putty in my hands.
"How will I take you, pretty flower?" I asked when I came up for air. "Will I have you bent over the bed so I can rut you like the beast I am? Or will I have you spread out before me so I can look into those pretty eyes while I take what I want?"
She took a deep breath, her gaze traveling over my face before answering. "Whatever my master wants."