Learning to Live with Her Master [Prometheus in Chains 4] (Siren Publishing Classic) (6 page)

“Can you turn that pan off?”

She tested the rice and said it could rest now. Then she covered it and let him lead her. He could wait no longer, and he hurried her up the stairs to their room, tearing off his suit as she took off her apron, dress and bra and stood to wait his direction.

“Kneel on the bed.” His voice was low and breathy.

She knelt, and he stood behind her, finding her cunt with his fingers. She was even wetter now, and he stroked her G-spot, driving her wild with his fingers soaked in her cream. He took them out of her and licked them clean, groaning his appreciation of their taste.

“Your taste is like honey,” he said.

He gripped her hips tightly, and standing between her thighs, he entered her. She had expected him to take her fast and hard, and he did. He entered her, giving her his full delicious length in one hard thrust, lifting her knees off the bed in his urgency, but he held her safe in his hands, so she didn’t fall forward as she otherwise might have done. He withdrew all the way out and slammed all the way home again, his huge balls slapping against her, and she sighed in contentment.

“Stay on your knees, put your shoulders on the bed. Rest your head on your arms.”

She’d explained that it was the most comfortable position for her when he wanted her visible submission. Still kneeling, she complied, and he fucked her then, hard and fast and urgent. She gasped as he hammered his cock into her time after time and moaned as it slid along her G-spot. She loved this position. It gave her more intense pleasure as he varied the angle of his thrusts. He leaned over her and played with her breast with one hand, pulling and pinching at the nipple and nipping at her neck with his teeth. His weight on her felt so good. One arm was around her, playing with the breast he could reach, even as it was pressed to the bed. His other hand was on her hip. His hand on her breast sent jolts of pleasure to her cunt which gushed with moisture.

“Did you get what you wanted? Teasing me like that! Naughty little darling. We’ve not had a session in the playroom lately. I need to spank this delicious arse, and you are due a spanking anyhow.”

So saying, he removed his hand from her breast and gently bit, first one globe of her bottom, then the other as she squeaked.

“We will go up early tonight and spend a happy hour there.”

“Yes, please, Master. I’d like that. ”

He began to pump in and out of her again and leaned over to rub his fingers between the puffy folds of her outer lips until he found her clit, swollen and needy. He massaged it for a while, then pressing hard against her little pearl, he growled, “Come
now
!”

His hips bucked, and jets of hot semen shot into her. She screamed his name as her orgasm rolled over her, the pleasure swelling and swelling. He continued to stimulate her clit until the aftershocks ceased and the clenching, milking of her cunt muscles around his cock gradually eased. He collapsed on the bed on his side, taking her with him and cuddling her back against him. He kissed her neck and her hair, whispering, “I love you, mo run.”

He reached over to the night table where a small package waited. Tied up in coffee-and-aqua ribbons, it was small but rather heavy. She took it and thanked him with a kiss on his cheek. When she opened it, there was a small bottle of Arran Aromatics “Soft Cinnamon” eau de toilette inside. She smiled and kissed him full on the lips. He took the bottle out of the box and sprayed a small amount on her hand to let her savour the smell. She inhaled and said, “I love it, Master. Thank you. You spoil me.”

He protested that he didn’t and kissed her. The scent suited her, and he inhaled deeply. He was becoming as addicted to cinnamon as she was and even more so mixed with her scent.

Eventually they got up, washed and went down to have dinner.

Lucky the rice would wait, she thought, and she smiled like a cat that had got the cream.

Jane picked up the phone, and once again the line went dead. She thought it was odd. There had been several calls over the last week, and the caller had always hung up. When she’d dialled the number to discover who had called, the message was always that “the caller had withheld their number.” She shrugged and put it down to a “survey” or some other marketing ploy and thought no more about the calls.

The next day as she was sitting in her room, working, the doorbell rang. She got up to answer it and had got to the top of the stairs when her Master opened it. Standing on the step was a tall, blonde woman. She was slim and elegantly dressed. She smiled and threw herself into Angus’s arms, winding her arms around his neck. Kissing him, she said, “At last, Angus, my love.”

Jane watched as the woman linked her arms behind his neck and kissed him soundly on the lips. It was what Jane had always feared would happen and now it had. All her original doubts came back. How could he
not
prefer her to Jane, with her less than perfect legs, and her plump hips?
She
was younger than Jane and so slim and beautiful. Who will want me? she had thought as she entered the club for the first time. What did
she
have to offer compared to the blonde? Jane was devastated. She saw him hold on to the woman. That was enough to confirm what she felt. He wanted the blonde. What man in his right mind wouldn’t choose her over an older, less beautiful woman? Jane turned and somehow made one foot follow the other back up the few stairs she had just descended. Stunned, she held on tight to the bannister rail and somehow got herself up the last stairs. She was out of breath. She couldn’t breathe. Her heart beat twenty to the dozen, and the blood pounded in her ears. What was she going to do now? He
had
collared her, but collars could be removed. He
had
asked her to marry him, but they were not married yet. Her world, that she had thought so secure, was falling apart. Who was this woman? She called him “her love,” and he held her in his arms. She was young, more beautiful. Jane’s worst nightmare had come to pass.

Suddenly, she couldn’t stay in the house a minute longer. She had to get away. A sense of urgency invaded her and imbued her with strength, energy, and purpose. Grabbing a bag from the wardrobe, she threw clothes into it, jeans, sweaters, shirts, underwear. In the bathroom she swept her toiletries into the vanity case he had bought her in Madrid, and a sob caught in her throat.

Not now! she thought to herself.
You must get away. There’s no time now. You can cry later.

She repeated that to herself over and over as she grabbed her handbag and car keys, took the bag with her clothes and crept down the stairs. She couldn’t face him, them yet.

She heard muted voices from the living room as she gained the front door. The living room door was closed. She couldn’t hear what was being said, and they couldn’t see her. Opening the front door, she went out, closed it softly, and looked back at the house.

A beautiful silver-gray Mercedes was parked next to her car. She noticed saddle-stitched leather seats. It looked expensive and elegant like its owner, all the things Jane was not. She bit her lip and got into her car. It was a bright-red Hyundai i30. He had surprised her with it when her old car had broken down. He had taken the old one in for repairs, and it never came back. This appeared in its place, a car she’d admired once in a car park. He’d said her old car was dangerous and not worth repairing. She didn’t want to get into the car because it brought back too many memories of him, but she simply had to get away. She got in the car, reversed, and didn’t put her seat belt on in her haste. She heard the front door open, and he called her name.

She spun the tyres in her haste to get away and pressed the accelerator as she drove fast for the gates, hoping he’d not have time to go in the house and close them remotely. She shot out of the gate. Relief that he hadn’t got the gates closed flooding her, she turned the car left. The large lorry coming from her right stood no chance of stopping.

Angus heard the crash and raced down the drive and out of the gates. He was appalled by what he saw. The lorry had hit her car and crushed the side in. Luckily, she had turned left. He didn’t want to think what would have happened if she had turned right or the lorry had been coming from her left. In a panic, he raced over to her car and to the driver’s side window. He looked in and saw she was not moving. He couldn’t pull open the door, and he knew he shouldn’t move her even if he
could
get the bloody door to open. The air bags had all deployed, too. He banged on the window and called her name but still she didn’t move, so he got out his mobile and called 999 and got the police, fire brigade, and an ambulance. He waited, looking at his watch, pacing up and down.
What’s taking them such a bloody long time?
The lorry driver sat, dazed by the side of the road.

“I couldn’t stop in time.” The man repeated it again and again and Angus had to stop himself going over and shaking the bloody man until his teeth rattled in his head. He knew it hadn’t been the lorry driver’s fault. He well knew just whose fault it was. Ten minutes later, he watched as they cut open the car and, putting a neck brace on her, swiftly and gently got her on a backboard and into the ambulance. That bloody woman who had caused all this had better have gone by the time he got home or he wouldn’t be answerable for the consequences. Home, without Jane, it wouldn’t be home any more. She was not moving and was covered in blood. There was so much blood! His world was coming to an end.

“No! No! No!”
he railed. He couldn’t lose her. He couldn’t live without her.

He went in the ambulance with her and sat and watched as they worked to stabilise her. It took fifteen long minutes to get her to the hospital and into Casualty. The longest fifteen minutes of his life. Distraught and shaking, he paced the waiting room as she was examined and patched up. Thank the Lord, it wasn’t as bad as he had feared. Her head had bled a lot, as head wounds do. He’d seen all that blood and thought he would lose her.

“She has a cut on her head. She wasn’t wearing her seat belt, so she’s lucky there was an airbag or it could have been much worse. She will have bruising to her ribs and a nasty headache. She must have hit her head on the side window. I don’t think she has concussion but I want to keep her in for observation,” the doctor reassured him.

How glad he was that he had given her that new car! He didn’t want even to think about what might have happened had she been in that old one of hers. Then he spent the night by her bed holding her hand. He sat for hours and hours unable to sleep and unable to leave. He ate the sandwich and drank the tea a kind nurse brought him because she stood over him and watched while he did it and it was easier to comply than to resist.

The next morning he was asleep with his head on her bed when he felt her hand twitch in his. He came awake at once and looked at her. She was all bandages and huge, hurt eyes.

“Are you feeling okay? Is the pain bad? I’m sorry I fell asleep. I wanted to be here when you woke up.” Angus realised he was babbling.

“I’ve only just woken up. I feel dreadful. I’m very thirsty, can you get me a drink, please.” He noticed she didn’t say “Master” and his heart lurched. He got her a glass of water and held it to her lips as she sipped.

“Is that better? Do you want anything else?”

“No, thank you.” The small, sad voice was killing him. She wasn’t calling him “Master” and he missed it.

“Mo run, why did you run away?”

“I saw her and heard what she said and how she held you and kissed you. I didn’t want to wait and have you ask me to leave.”

He saw the tears begin to fall, and his heart gave a somersault.

“Jane, she’s nothing to me!” he protested.

“She said ‘my love,’ and you held her in your arms.”

“No. She held on to me. I got free of her and took her into the living room to talk to her. She was my sub a couple of years ago but only for one night. Until I met you, you know I’ve never been with anyone for more than one night. Ever since that night, two years ago, from time to time she’s tried to get back with me. It’s only boredom. She’s wealthy and when one of her lovers leaves her or if she’s in the area she fancies she wants
me
. She has always been rich enough to get what she wanted. I think that the main attraction is that, for the very first time, she can’t have what she wants, and she has yet to accept that. I told her about you and that we are to be married and she must never, ever come to the house again. She knew there was a woman in the house. She’s been calling and hanging up when you answered. Why did you say nothing about the calls?”

* * * *

“I thought they were surveys or marketing. She withheld her number as they do, so I thought the calls weren’t important,” Jane said. She was overjoyed in spite of being in pain. He didn’t want to leave her. He loved her and only her, and that woman had been nothing. She’d been foolish to doubt him, but the other woman was so slim, blonde and beautiful, elegant and wealthy, everything she wasn’t. When she said as much to him, he looked at her and said, “But not my Jane!”

And that was that. He told her he didn’t want to talk about the woman and wouldn’t say her name. He had told her to leave and never come back, and now he wanted to get on with their lives and Jane was very willing to do that. She had to get better now, get out of the hospital, and get her life back. She wondered if he was going to be very mad that she’d wrecked her car. The thought crossed her mind and must have showed on her face, “I wrecked the car?”