Chapter 11
eleven
Baz noticed my hair the moment he came into the kitchen. “What’s this, fairy? No hair in your face.”
I’m afraid his teasing made me blush. You’d think I’d be more embarrassed about him touching me than I was about him noticing my hair. But his teasing meant he’d noticed how it hung in my face before, and I liked that.
He tugged at my strands.
“Gretel did it,” I admitted.
“Well done.” He turned to her, and I swear they shared a secret smile. It forced me to move, to grab my pinafore and start breakfast.
Baz took only a croissant and went back upstairs, leaving crumbs in his wake. Almost like he knew I needed time to get the Manor back in order and Gretel settled.
Gretel might have worked as a servant for years, but it should come as no surprise that I had high expectations. And I knew early on, Gretel needed minding.
She could cook and clean, but her movements could be lackadaisical. And don’t get me started on how she hummed and spun in circles as she swept. She spilled water when she moved her mop bucket around.
But that first day, more often than not, I caught her staring out the windows.
“You may as well start washing them,” I told her after lunch.
I caught her by surprise; her shoulders jerked. “It’s pretty outside.” Her fingers squeezed around the broom handle.
The window did need washing, but I squinted out. We were on the third floor, the window peeking out on the landscape I knew well. There was our garden and the gate, then the wide stretch of grass that sloped to the riverbank.
“It’s cloudy,” I stated. Normal weather for around here. Despite it being spring, a crisp chill in the air promised runny noses. But Gretel stared out dreamily.
“Do you ever have picnics outside?” she asked.
I snorted only to remember a second later the feel of Baz tugging my hand. We’d embarked on something of the sort the day we found her.
“I haven’t been outside,” Gretel said, and I believe she had just remembered this fact. “Not since I got here.”
With the dirty window, way high up, and facing this direction, it seemed safe for Gretel to look outside. But I already knew Gretel to be a risk taker.
“You can’t go outside,” I told her. I should’ve softened my voice, but that was a skill I’d never discovered.
Gretel bit her bottom lip, attracting my attention to her mouth. “But why not?”
“If somebody spots you.”
“They won’t.”
“They will,” I decided. Because that’s what it would lead to. She’d get more and more ambitious, forgetting to be careful. “Do you want to go back to Clinemell’s?”
Maybe it sounded like a threat, I’m not sure. But apprehension passed over Gretel’s face. Her eyes never left the window, though.
“You’re not trapped,” I said, needing her to know this. I didn’t want her to think of this place as a cage. “But Clinemell will force you back. Or leave you in jail. And think about Baz.”
Her green eyes cut over to me. She still chewed on the corner of her lower lip.
“And you,” she said faintly, the broom handle shifting in her grip.
I hardly mattered, but something struck my body when she said those words. Like she actually did understand I wanted to help. But not only that. That she didn’t want me to get into trouble either.
Even in those early days, I think we all understood that all three of us only wanted to protect one another.
“But can’t I at least go out in the garden?” Gretel asked. When I said nothing, she pouted. “I could help you in the garden. I know you’ve already planted vegetables for the spring. Come on, don’t you want help?”
Another memory of Baz came to mind. My thoughts always went to him. He’d helpfully flung some dirt at me the other day, laughing hysterically, only for him to use his thumb to brush it from my cheek. I’d hoped he would kiss me, but he hadn’t.
“I already have enough pests messing with my cabbages, thank you very much.”
She frowned, her lips pushing out in an overdramatic frown. “I’m not a pest.”
I rolled my eyes. “We need to finish this hall and I want to dust the east stairwell.”
Gretel sighed. I knew Clinemell didn’t live in filth, but Gretel certainly acted like she couldn’t be bothered to do any household tasks.
Instead of taking my instructions as a to-do list, she leaned her forehead against the glass pane.
“Maybe at night.” The words slipped out.
She rolled her head to look at me. “Really?”
“You’d have to stay in the garden. Near the house, not by the gate or the stone fence. And not in the courtyard near the carriage gate either.”
It wasn’t much freedom, but perhaps the cool air and stars would make her feel better. She already had a wide smile on her face just from the idea.
“I could sleep out there,” she said.
That sounded miserable. “It’ll be cold. And you could get sick.”
“Oh,” she uttered, deflating just a bit thanks to those two good points.
“Go dust,” I instructed. We’d need to start dinner soon, and there were a whole host of other things that needed to be done.
With another sigh, she picked up her broom and dust pan and trudged off to the east stairwell.
I relished the peace for just a moment. I probably didn’t need to check in on Gretel as much as I had, but I’d been her shadow for most of the day. Now, I enjoyed the space, though I stared after her. From this angle, her dress appeared even shorter.
I wiped a new smudge mark from the window, thanks to Gretel.
A floorboard creaked, but no one appeared. A manor as old as Blackwell’s meant there were plenty of groans coming from the old bones of the place. I’d long grown accustomed to them, knowing the Manor would never tolerate ghosts.
I left my spot at the window, walking down the hall.
An arm wrapped around me, pulling me into a dark crevice of the hallway.
My heart ticked, and my body slammed into something hard—Baz.
I’d always known he was taller, but as he peered down, the planes of his face sharper and sterner than usual, I couldn’t help but feel small.
Everything about him was darker. His hair, mussed back like he’d run a hand through it. His eyes didn’t sparkle, but they held a certain gleam that made my mouth go dry.
“Fairy.” I shuddered at the hushed, stern voice.
His hands smoothed down my dress before they rushed to duck under my skirt.
Some unintelligible noise caught in the back of my throat.
“Now, now,” he tsked. “You’ll want to be quiet for this, fairy. You don’t want our new houseguest to hear you. We both know she’s a nosy little thing, but then maybe you would like that. Being caught.”
I clamped down on my lips, stifling any sound. I craned my neck, checking to make sure she’d gone down to the east stairwell.
“Baz.” My fingers snagged into his shirt, he’d pulled me so tight.
“Quiet,” he ordered, the demand rough. His fingers kneaded into my bare ass. “Such a good fairy,” he praised. “You haven’t worn your panties once since I told you to take them off?”
I shook my head, my teeth biting into my lower lip.
His chest rumbled when he spoke next. “I can’t tell you how much that pleases me, fairy. You’ve been very good lately. Listening to me and taking care of Gretel. I think you deserve a reward, don’t you?”
I couldn’t stop a desperate whine rattling from my throat.
He laughed at my pain, his fingers still working into my skin. He might have tugged me toward him, but I was just as willing to get as close as possible. I didn’t feel a bit of shame as I rubbed against him. That only caused another little laugh, but he didn’t have any plans yet to satisfy my need.
He kissed me for the first time. There was nothing soft or sweet. His lips claimed mine, biting down on my lip. I gasped, my body jerking, and he took the opportunity to sweep his tongue into mine.
I didn’t know what I was doing. I hadn’t since the moment Baz showed up at Blackwell Manor. But it didn’t matter. Baz controlled everything, and I let him. I leaned in to him, a tiny flower growing toward the sun.
It was the complete opposite of what I’d ever done, but I found safety in Baz. It was as simple as that.
I could’ve gone on forever just kissing him, but he had more in mind.
His mouth broke from mine, though, he kept coming back to it.
Pressing his lips against mine as his hands roamed my backside.
He hooked a hand under one leg and forced it around his waist. I lifted on my tip toes, straining to keep balance.
“I love watching you take care of people,” he said. “You’ve done marvelous helping Gretel.”
I shook my head, meaning to rebuff his compliments.
“Don’t argue back,” he teased, for a second, his usual merriness breaking through the darker version of Baz. “I’m trying to give you a reward, but I can just as easily be persuaded to turn it into a punishment.”
The threat shot an odd sensation down my spine. More of a thrill than anything.
He must’ve caught it. “Fairy,” he groaned, his forehead touching mine.
One leg still wrapped around his waist, I had no idea what he was doing. But his fingers roamed, finding a private area. He stroked the hair along my pubic bone, trailing lower. My hands curled tighter around him as he touched me where no one else ever had.
“No panties and thighs completely wet,” he said. I squirmed at the way he said it, like an accusation. “By the stars in what world is that okay, fairy? I’ll never be the same knowing what’s under your dress. I could flip your skirt up and find you this way every time, couldn’t I?”
His fingers skimmed against my wet folds. But then he found my clit, and I lost my breath when his thumb circled it.
“My own personal whore, ready for use whenever,” he said, building the pressure. A noise caught in my throat, and he threatened, “Better be quiet, fairy, or Gretel will find out too.”
Maybe I shook my head. I couldn’t think clearly, waves of something coiling in me.
“But don’t worry, I won’t let Gretel touch you,” Baz said, and I frowned. Why would Gretel be touching me? “But maybe she should know how much of a dirty girl you are. I think you would like that.”
“N-no.” The word came out strangled and muted.
He kept rubbing. “No? You don’t think she deserves to know how much of a whore you are? You’ve ordered her around all day, fairy, telling her what to do and how to do it. And I bet she had no idea you weren’t even wearing panties.”
Flames licked my skin. How wrong he was.
“Only little whores go around without panties, fairy. And you’re my little whore. I don’t care if you order Gretel around, but you’ll always listen to me, won’t you? I can fuck any of your holes whenever I want, can’t I?”
I nodded, terrified and electrified by his words all at once. It combined into a heady feeling, solidifying into a desire I craved.
“I can fuck this one whenever I want.” His finger pressed into my opening.
My lips parted, but nothing could come out.
He thrusted inside me, stretching me in a way I’d never experienced before.
“This mouth,” he said, pressing a kiss to the corner of my parted lips.
“Stars, I can’t wait to fuck this mouth. ”
His finger continued to thrust, his thumb circling clit.
Baz groaned, his erection pressing into my stomach. “And one day you’ll beg me to fuck your ass.”
He laughed at the little squeak I made, his finger more forceful as he thrust into me.
My body tightened, the wave crashing. I clung onto the sensation, whimpering as he kept playing with my pussy.
I held onto him, my leg still wrapped around him. I’m certain I’d begun to shake from the position, but I didn’t want to move. I hugged him close. Eventually, our breaths quieted, and then we found ourselves in a peaceful bubble.
He slowly lowered my leg, but he rubbed my back, not breaking us apart yet like he knew I needed the comfort.
“Fairy,” he said gently. “Listen to me carefully.”
Using both hands, he cupped my cheeks, meeting my eye.
“What if I asked you to go to Gretel right now. What if you flipped your skirt up and showed her what I just did to you?”
I grabbed at his hands, heat engulfing me again. But it wasn’t sweet this time.
Baz appeared serious, though. “What if you asked her to clean you off?”
Naively, I first thought of Gretel holding a wet washcloth. But staring into Baz’s eyes, the understanding of what he meant dawned on me.
And then I imagined it for the first time. Gretel’s little pink tongue lapping me clean while Baz watched.
I wasn’t ready for it yet. A whimper caught in my throat, and Baz nodded, backing off.
“Okay,” he simply said and let the idea pass away without further comment. As if the idea he’d presented to me hadn’t just been some big, monumental shift in our dynamic.
Instead, he straightened my dress, pressed a kiss to my forehead, and then left me to my housework.