Tangwystle

Chapter 4

four

Master Blackwell didn’t take my silence to mean I was deep in thought, but rather that I contributed to the peace and quiet he wanted in his household.

And I suppose, I did just that because where else would I find an employer who so completely left me alone?

Baz Coldwell was completely different.

He meant it when he said he’d be self-sufficient.

Other than changing his bedsheets, his room remained relatively private.

I’d find him downstairs in the kitchen for breakfast most mornings, dressed and ready.

And I learned that he preferred the library to the parlor.

I’d spot him roaming around at times. Staring at the paintings hung around the Manor, exploring different passages.

I caught him once, his face tilted up as he sat on a bench in one of the halls. The light from a window cast him in warm sunshine. As if I didn’t already know after just a few days that he was the literal sun in a place known for nothing but its smog and chilly weather.

“It is pretty,” he said, and my shoulders jumped.

I should’ve turned around immediately and left him to his reverie instead of watching him from the shadows. He beckoned me forward and motioned to the painting he studied. A landscape full of pretty blooms and lush greenery.

“Does the garden here bloom like that?” he asked.

The ground was still too hard to plant yet, but the most the garden ever produced were some vegetables. I could hardly tell him that, though. “A few wildflowers pop up, sir.”

Sapphire eyes pinned me down. “So formal, Tangwystle. Should I help you in the garden?”

My nose curled. Stars above, this man couldn’t know the first thing about gardening. “No, sir.”

His foot bobbed up and down as he leaned back on the bench. “You’re thinking I’m lazy, staring up at paintings all day?”

“No, sir.”

Until that day, I’d never heard him speak sternly. “Lying is where I draw the line, Tangwystle. Don’t.”

I had loads of laundry to do and lunch to make. So I simply nodded, but he watched me closely.

“You think I’m one of those gentleman, lazing about, with too much time on my hands.”

“Yes.”

When he didn’t smile at my response, I thought I’d miss stepped.

“Shall I help with the lunch?” he asked.

“And ruin the meal?” I replied, not knowing where those words came from.

But this time he did smile, although lightly. His foot continued to sway as he stared up at the paintings. I slipped away, scurrying to get to the clothesline, and I focused on that instead of my big fat mouth for the rest of the day.

Baz had tried to help those first few days.

He’d made an absolute mess of things, and only later did I think to wonder if he’d done it on purpose.

At first, I’d thought he’d meant to be nice and try to help the only servant of the house.

But after a while, it occurred to me he might have been trying to see when I would finally speak up.

That was a dynamic I’d never had with Master Blackwell. The past seven years, I’d kept my mouth shut and done my job.

And it wasn’t like anyone would’ve cared if I’d tried to speak. Boswell liked horses and dogs, and his main communication came in the form of grunting. Master Blackwell read encyclopedias for fun.

I couldn’t imagine conversing with either one.

Baz, for some reason, did want to converse with me.

At first, I chalked it up to the fact that he’d arrived at a giant manor with only one other individual in it.

But visitors started to trickle in. Neighbors with their polite courtesy. Businessman who made it their mission to know every new face in the village. And the councilmen, of course.

Unsurprisingly, most enjoyed Baz. He came with a light touch. He was educated but not full of himself. Talkative but knew that less could be more. He let other men patter away, humming under his breath while he listened to them talk.

I only caught these glimpses when I brought in trays full of food.

Each and every time, I received a thanks from Baz and merely a glance from the other men.

At least if I was lucky—Mr. Drew’s gaze never left my ass.

I glanced over my shoulder as I left, noticing Baz’s eyes narrowed on the man, the first sign of annoyance I’d ever seen from him.

The Manor rumbled with Baz taking ownership. With its dark stone, it’d never be bright and airy, but I swear Baz brought life to it. People continued to pop in for visits, and the village baker sent a continual supply of fruit tarts and other treats for these meet-and-greets.

“Come to the library,” Baz requested one night after dinner.

He might take his meals with me, but I’d very strictly kept my distance from him otherwise. I knew I didn’t have free run of the place despite how much authority Baz seemed to think I held.

“I shouldn’t,” I told him.

“Why not?” he replied and plucked my book up from the table. By this point, he knew I read any chance I got. I couldn’t deny it, considering he’d noticed my book that very first day. And he’d come several times into the kitchen to find me curled up with tea and a book in the evenings.

“You’re going to spend the rest of your night reading,” Baz said, heading out the door, my book in his clutches. “You may as well be comfortable.”

“I’m very comfortable!” I called after him.

“We have a library, Tangwystle.” His voice echoed behind him, amusement lining his words.

I hurried after him, something I later realized tended to happen those first few weeks. I didn’t think of myself as a flowery person, but I reached toward him like a blade of grass looking for the sun.

If you think that sounds awfully poetic for such a dry creature as myself, I’d agree.

But I couldn’t help only ever thinking of Baz as the sunlight. Warmth exuded from him, and not because he could spark a fire in any of the hearths in the Manor. His voice was full of life when he spoke, and his words never cut into a person.

“Oh, so you do know how to join me in the library,” Baz said a few minutes later, already sitting by the fire.

I sat down in the wingback chair opposite him. “It’s highly inap—”

“It’s not,” he said, firm. “Now read your book, Tangwystle.”

I lifted the leather tome. But after staring blankly at the pages for a few moments, my gaze shifted up. Baz stared openly at me.

“What is your book about?” he asked.

“It’s. . .”

His own book sat closed on his lap. I knew all the books in this library, thanks to all the dusting I’d done over the years. Baz preferred history books.

“It’s. . .” Baz prompted at my silence.

“Just a story.”

“About?”

“A man who can shift into a dragon.”

“How fascinating. And what happens?”

My fingers curled around the edges of the book, holding it closer to my chest. As if the pages would give me away.

“What happens in it?” Baz asked, a cheeky smile growing on his face.

My eyes narrowed. He already knew, the bastard. I just wasn’t sure when he’d found my books. I tried to keep them put away because I already understood how nosy of a person Baz could be. And he had no qualms about asking questions or teasing. Hence why he smiled now.

“He meets a woman,” I said, clearing my throat. “And they fall in love.”

“Love?” He arched a brow.

My shoulders crept up. His smirk only grew.

“Yes, love,” I said. “They fall in love. And that’s all. It’s just a bit of a love story.”

I made absolutely no mention of the dragon shifter’s nine-inch cock tearing into the heroine’s cunt. Nothing about her crying out for him. Not a single word about him whispering dirty little things as he worked her up.

Dirty girl, dirty girl, dirty girl.

“A very loving story.” Baz settled back into his chair, propping his chin up with his hand.

My cheeks flushed.

“Do you mind if I borrowed it after you?” he asked.

I borrowed all my books from a visiting library. Meaning it wasn’t mine to covet.

“It’s very different from the books you typically read,” I noted.

“I like to change things up every so often,” he said with a straight face.

I took a deep breath. “If you wish.”

“I wish,” he said, staring into my eyes. “Now read your book, Tangwystle.”

My spine slowly relaxed, pressing into the cushion of the wingback chair.

I read about wicked little things, all the while his gaze never left me. I tried to breathe, to keep my face from heating. But I couldn’t help glancing at him every so often. His sapphire eyes appeared darker in the dim light. He looked more serious than I’d ever seen before.

He nodded, once, reminding me to get back to my book.

Squirming in my seat, I lifted the book to hide my face.

“What’s happening in the book?” he asked. I couldn’t answer. “Read out some of it, for me.”

“I-I’m afraid I’m not that great of a narrator.”

“Read it aloud, Tangwystle.”

Like always, the moment he said my name, I crumbled.

Keeping the book in front of my face, I began to read aloud.

“‘Not another word, little one. One more little word and it’ll be your ass I fill. But then you would like that wouldn’t you?

My wife, my love. My greedy little whore.

’ Khalil flipped me, my dress bunching around my waist in a cloud of fabric.

Shoved against the wall, Khalil slapped my legs apart.

‘You greedy, little cock tease.’ He freed his own cock and my mouth dried, my heart in my throat.

‘Beg me like the good girl that you are.’”

I took a deep breath, forcing myself to keep reading. By this point, my own heart was in my throat.

“‘Please’,” I said, quoting the book. My thighs tensed, mirroring the character on page. “The wide head of his cock pressed into my cunt and I couldn’t speak anymore.”

I paused, but never moved the book out of my face.

“Keep reading to me, Tangwystle,” Baz said, his voice low and dark.

It’s not like I could lie and say I wasn’t affected. Nerves pricked my skin, my ribcage growing tighter and tighter.

I wanted relief too. In a certain delicate spot that begged to be touched.

“Tangwystle. . .” Baz ordered.

“‘Little one,’ Khalil said. I could only moan. ‘My beautiful, filthy little one. Look at my cock in your wet cunt. You take such good care of me.’ His fingers found my clit. ‘Let me take care of you, little one. Hold still.’ He slid out until only the crown of his cock teased my entrance before slamming all the way in. He kept whispering little things into my ear. ‘Cock tease, whore, filthy little thing. You make a man go mad, little one. Taking my cock like the good whore that you are. Let me hear you. I know you can’t keep quiet.’ And I couldn’t.

I tried to bite back the moans but each stroke of his cock hit a spot that had my head thrown back.

‘Come now, little one.’ And I did. Violently, my cunt clenched around him, his cock pulsing as he filled me with his cum. ”

From behind the book, I whispered, “That’s the end of the chapter.”

The clock ticked, the evening late. I dared to lower the book, and my chest lifted. His pants were tented.

Baz made no move to touch himself, but he never looked away from me. And I found that more intense than if he’d been lewdly stroking himself. Instead, he gazed at me like he gazed at all the beautiful portraits hanging around the Manor.

“I should go to bed.” I worried about whether or not my legs could move. But I pushed myself up anyway, holding the book to my chest.

I passed so close to his chair that I felt his fingers skim the fabric of my dress. “Good night, Tangwystle.”