My Three Masters (9 page)

I dared not think what the other servants would say when
they saw me dressed like this, as if I were pretending to be a lady. But no one
caught sight of me as I trotted out of the house and toward the stables. I
found them eerily empty. The carriage was gone. Alicia must have gone visiting
and taken the groom. Not even the stable boy was about. I spotted several
riding crops mounted on the walls, but my earlier fear didn’t return. It seemed
almost absurd now. The blame should be laid at the door of the Vicious
Viscount, not an inanimate object.

Where was the Marquis? Had I taken too long getting dressed?
In a state of near-panic, I ran from stall to stall, surprising horses but
finding no dark, disreputable Marquis until I reached the last one. I peered
inside. The grassy scent of hay tickled my nostrils. From the slit of a window,
a sunbeam made dust motes into dancing fairies of light. No horse inhabited
this stall, only the Marquis.

He’d taken his riding jacket off and hung it on a nail. His
white shirt billowed about him. I caught a glimpse of dark curly hair
underneath. He was so handsome I let out an artless sigh. Yet he didn’t seem at
all pleased to see me. He frowned in a dire manner.

“You’re late,” he declared.

“I had to bring the milk to Rose, then I had to dress. I
came as quickly as I could, sir.” Indeed, I was still panting from my mad rush.

He held up a firm hand. “That’ll do. As the master, I
shouldn’t have to wait for my own servant, should I? Especially when I’m
burning for her.” Deliberately he put his hand to the fall of his breeches and
rubbed that massive bulge. I caught my breath. The memory of how that rod had
felt inside me had disturbed last night’s sleep to no small degree.

“No, milord. You shouldn’t.”

He rubbed himself again, those strong, masterful hands
caressing himself through his breeches. His eyes closed halfway as he seemed to
lose himself in lonely arousal. It wasn’t right.

“Please, milord. May I…touch you?”

Tilting his head to one side, he seemed to consider my
request as he continued to fondle himself. “Very well,” he finally decided. “On
one condition. You must do exactly as I say.”

I nodded eagerly. Beneath my skirts, my female parts
prickled with heat.

“Come close and kneel before me,” he said in a voice as dark
as midnight, laden with naughty intention that seemed to find its way into the
furthest recesses of my body.

I did as he said. I walked forward and sank to my knees on
the hay-scattered floor. Just before my eyes, not three inches from my face,
loomed the enormous mound tenting his breeches.

“Put your hands behind your back and unbutton my fall with
your mouth and teeth.”

A dark thrill made me tremble. I clasped my hands behind my
back, which made my breasts thrust forward. The Marquis bent down to my front
and attacked my buttons so my breasts spilled out. He gave my nipples a sharp
tweak that made me cry out. Between my legs, my clitoris burned. He plumped my
breasts together, then rebuttoned my bodice so it propped them forward in a
shameless display.

“Ah, that’s better,” he said. “Your task now. Get on with
it.”

I leaned forward so my lips touched his breeches. Fumbling,
I found a button and used my teeth to pull it through its buttonhole. The rough
abrasion of the cloth against my tongue made me quiver. Not only that, but I
couldn’t help letting the tips of my breasts brush against his breeches. Every
time that happened, they became more stiff and prominent, until I felt as if
heavy lead weighted my nipples.

Three buttons, four, five. By the time all six had been
released, my breath came fast and shallow.

“Reach in with your mouth and extract my cock,” ordered the
Marquis.

I didn’t have to reach far. It stood stiff and upright
against his pelvis. The dusky purple of a bruise, it seemed to grow and pulse
before my eyes. Truth to tell, it intimidated me with its mighty presence. But
I reminded myself it had been inside me the previous night and brought me the
most exquisite release. Delicately, as a sort of exploration, I licked its
entire length. Warm, satin-soft, alive and faintly salty. I found it quite to
my liking.

Filled with passionate energy, I maneuvered the massive head
into the cavity of my mouth and swirled my tongue about it. I made an awkward
slurping sound, which seemed to amuse the Marquis.

“Very good. Very good indeed. Now take the entire cock into
your mouth and aim it toward the back of your throat.”

Clumsy, I bobbed my head up and down to maneuver his cock
the way he asked. It wasn’t easy, and for a moment I nearly gagged.

“Relax your throat muscles. That’s it.” He stroked the
straining muscles along my neck then went lower, to my protruding nipples. He
teased them for a while, perhaps to distract me from my efforts. It worked. As
he stoked the fire within those hard peaks, I struggled to bring his cock to
the position he’d dictated. At one point his hands left my nipples and went to
his mouth. When they returned, wet and slippery, they tormented my nipples with
long, deep pinches until I groaned.

As I made the sound, my throat opened and suddenly there was
his cock, entirely impaled within me. My eyes went wide with panic, but he
soothed me with hot whispers. He left my nipples then and cupped my face in my
hands.

“You’ll be fine, my sweet. Breathe through your nostrils.
You won’t suffocate. And think what astounding pleasure you’re bringing me
right now. Move your head back and forward on my shaft, just like that. You may
now bring your hands from behind your back and cup my balls.”

My hands? I’d forgotten I had hands, focused as I was on my
overflowing mouth and my wet, aroused nipples, which were now throbbing with
every current of air against their exposed, moistened flesh.

Nevertheless, I released my hands from their tight grasp
behind my back and brought them to his cock. I found the soft, tight balls of
flesh and held them tenderly in my palms.

“That’s it, nice and light at first. Get used to the feel. I
want you to worship my cock as if it were your lord and master. It rules you.
It rules your body, your mouth, that hot place between your legs.”

My head swam as if I were drowning in a thick vat of dark
honey. My entire body trembled and quaked. Moisture dripped from my quim.

“I’m going to fuck your mouth now.” His voice was feral and
nearly unrecognizable. He thrust his cock against the back of my throat. I
fought to keep the channel open and relaxed. It was his, after all. His to do
with as he pleased. At that moment I existed to serve him with my mouth. I
would die before I let him down.

With his strong hands, he held my face and directed the
movements of my jaw and head. Up and down, up and down. My world became up and down,
hot and hard, thrust and withdraw, fondle and accept.
Accept, accept
.
Accept his fierce flesh into my softness, his dark desires into my soul.

Accept the hot fluid that jetted into my throat. I swallowed
again and again as his essence filled the crevices of my mouth and slid down my
throat. Some of it dribbled onto my cheeks, along with the tears I couldn’t
stop. It filled me with joy to feel him spend himself in my mouth in that
manner. Even after his thrusting had given way to twitching, I laved his cock
with my tongue, searching out every last drop of tangy salt.

He released my head from his tight grasp and pulled his cock
from my lips. I collapsed onto the ground on my hands and knees, exhausted,
spent, filled with glory. Completely overcome, I closed my eyes. I felt him
caress the curve of my cheek, wipe away traces of tears and semen.

“You please me greatly, my dear.”

The sweet words drifted across me like a breeze on a sunny
day. How blessed I felt in that moment.

“But I’m afraid the stable boy has just entered the stables.
We must find our mounts and be off.”

I scrambled to my feet. “But…”

He cocked his head as he buttoned his fall and put himself
to rights. “Yes?”

How could I tell him my entire body burned for satisfaction?
That I could not possibly ride a horse in this condition? Why, even my nipples…
I looked down at their embarrassing plumpness. He did too. He glance was
followed by his lips, as he bent down and drew first one, then the other into
his mouth for a long, agonizing suckle.

Oh Lord, oh Lord in heaven, how could anything feel so
painfully pleasurable?

The whistle of the stable boy penetrated my haze. My eyes
flew open as the Marquis tucked my bosom back inside the bodice of my habit and
quickly rebuttoned it. I might be more covered, but I was just as aroused. I
squirmed as my nipples pressed against the soft cotton of my shift and the
stiff broadcloth of the habit.

He whispered in my ear. “I command you not to come until we
reach our destination.” I looked at him desperately. So he knew the state I was
in. Of course he did.

I whirled away from him and tended to my hair and face. I
couldn’t allow the stable boy to see me so disarranged.

Despite the uncomfortable friction between my legs, it felt
glorious to be in a saddle again. I felt powerful and free and full of joy as I
clucked Candy into a canter after the Marquis and his black stallion. We rode,
wild and free, across meadows and over fences until we reached a lovely stream.
There the Marquis pulled on the reins and his horse skittered to a stop.

“Come here.” He reached for Candy’s bridle and urged her
closer. She obeyed. Did all females yield to the master’s touch? “Closer. Come
now.”

He maneuvered my horse so the two of us were next to each
other, as close as we could get without squeezing my legs in their sidesaddle.
With both bridles held in one hand, he leaned over and cradled my cheek with
his other hand. Strong and warm, with a slight roughness on the palm, that hand
tilted my face toward him. His intent black gaze studied every inch of my
countenance.

“Beautiful Miranda,” he murmured. I flushed warm. I knew
well how unbeautiful I was.

“You don’t believe me? I’ve been bewitched by you since the
first moments I noticed you, despite your brown garb and deliberate attempts to
remain invisible. I admit it worked for a short while. It took me longer than
usual to notice you. At least a day.”

One corner of my mouth quirked up. I searched his face but
saw nothing but desire and concentration on that dark visage. “And my scar?”

“What of it?”

“Is it beautiful too?” I challenged him.

“As it is part of you, I declare it to be just as beautiful
as the rest of you.” And with that, he firmly brought his lips onto mine, still
moist and swollen from their efforts.

Miranda tasted even more wonderful than the Marquis had
dreamed. Those full, erotically curved lips held the flavor of wild
blackberries, the softness of feather down, the unruliness of an untamed horse.
Her response was utterly satisfactory. Surprise at the sudden intrusion of his
mouth, then an eager welcome that nearly made him come off his horse. A
shooting flame of desire had him plunging his tongue into her mouth, savoring
the slick inner walls, the slight roughness of her tongue. Even though it had
been so recently sucked dry, his cock strained against his breeches. His blood
roared in his ears. God, he could take her right here.

He tore away, glancing around to make sure no stray farmers
or shepherds were in the vicinity. “Come,” he said. “I’ll take you to one of my
favorite places.”

She nodded and put her hand to her mouth in a trembling
gesture that made his heart jump. “Did I hurt you?”

She shook her head. “No one else has ever kissed me like
that,” she said frankly.

“So you’ve been kissed before?” His quick stab of
disappointment surprised him. He’d been with hundreds of women. What cared he
about a mere kiss?

“Years ago,” she said dismissively. “By a boy.”

“If it was years ago, you must have been a mere girl.” He
clucked to his stallion and both horses began moving. He set a slow pace so he
could get a grip on his lust.

“Fifteen.”

He raised an eyebrow. If she was a Hampton, of good family,
and kissing boys at fifteen, his curiosity was even more aroused. “Your parents
allowed it?”

“My parents died when I was twelve. And I only kissed him
once, because I wanted to make sure he was the right boy for me to marry.”

“Marry?” He didn’t like hearing that part. It seemed he had
strong feelings about her marrying. She ought to marry someone who understood
her true nature, not someone she’d kissed only once.

“We intended to marry as soon as we could obtain consent.
But that never happened.” She pressed her lips together as if to contain any
further confidences. The sight of her lush lips held to a straight line made him
want to tumble her off the horse and kiss her until she forgot all her worries.

“Just as well,” he said jauntily. “I’d hate to have to lure
you away from a jealous husband.”

She shot him a startled glance, as if debating whether to
take offense, then burst out into a joyful peal of laughter. “Do you hold
nothing sacred?”

“Indeed I do,” he answered promptly. “I hold sacred the
obligation to bring untold pleasure to anyone brave enough to bed me.” He
winked. “I hold sacred the right to do whatever I choose with my person so long
as no one is harmed.”

“Harmed? Don’t you mean hurt?”

“Not precisely, no. Some things might hurt but do no harm.”

“Like…what sort of things?”

He looked over at her in surprise. Wide-eyed and fascinated,
she met his gaze. Well, well, well. And he’d thought teaching her to suckle his
cock was enough for one day. She was proving to be an eager pupil.

“I’m afraid such things are better demonstrated than
described.”

If possible, her eyes went even wider. “But—”

“But nothing. If you persist in questioning me, I’ll have to
consider the appropriate consequence.” He gave her a burning sidelong look,
utterly satisfied by the way she flushed and her breathing came fast.

He led the way along the stream that flowed through the
property. Sweetbriar’s grounds were extensive, and the woods stretched for
acres in all directions. Sunshine bathed them in gentle warmth, the whisper of
a breeze fluttering the aspen leaves.

Finally the murmur of the water increased to a roar. The
streambed turned more rocky and they spotted small trout wending their way
through the boulders. As they rounded the final curve to their destination, the
Marquis heard a gasp behind him. Miranda’s mouth fell open as a spectacular
vista appeared before them.

A waterfall tumbled over mossy stones into a deep pool
shaded by willows. Sunlight dappled a grassy bank dotted with white clover. The
air smelled of earth and freshness, as if the elements had combined in perfect
harmony to form this one particular spot.

The look on Miranda’s face made the Marquis want to dance a
jig, something so out of character the London gossips would have fainted at the
sight. He swung off his horse and led it to the pool, then turned to help
Miranda. But she was already on the ground, her arms wide, her face lifted to
the sun, turning in a small circle. “This must be the most beautiful place in
creation!” she exclaimed.

He smiled broadly. “You’re easy to please.”

“But who wouldn’t feel the same way?” She bent down to pick
a star flower. “Look, they sparkle as if the fairies have been here.”

“How rude of them. Perhaps they should clean up after
themselves.”

“You won’t spoil my mood, my lord. This is too lovely for
crabbiness.”

“I would never want to spoil your mood.”

She looked up with a shy smile. “That’s very kind of you.”

“Kind.” The word revolted him. “The last thing I am is
kind.”

“Is that right?” She stood, her hands full of dainty white
flowers, and stepped to his side. Carefully, she propped a delicate stem into
his cravat. “I beg to differ, my lord. Even a servant has a right to her
opinion, does she not?”

“An informed opinion, perhaps.”

“I am informed. Haven’t I been watching you for over a year?
Haven’t I seen you visiting your wife despite her viciousness? Haven’t you gone
out of your way to take care of me? I wouldn’t dream of…”

“Of what?”

She shook her head and turned away. “I’m talking too much.
I’m not accustomed to talking, see, but when I’m with you it’s different. You
don’t mind if I talk. Most people want the servants to be invisible, or close
to it.”

He grabbed her arm. “You’re not a servant. I don’t want you
thinking of yourself that way.”

“Pardon?”

“You’re more than a servant.” He back stepped quickly, lest
he reveal that he knew her true name. “You’re a healer. You choose to work for
the Countess, but you aren’t a servant.”

A strange look stole over her face, as if he’d gifted her
with a puppy or something equally sentimental. Though he abhorred cheap
sentiment, he adored the way her face softened and laughter quivered at the
corners of her mouth. She tilted her head up to his, baring her long neck.

“And are we to talk of servants and masters all afternoon?
Surely that would be a waste of a beautiful day and all this,” she gestured
around the lovely glade, “privacy.”

A smile spread across his face. He knew what the little minx
wanted. Lord knew she’d earned it. Well, as her master he had responsibilities,
after all. “It’s time for you to earn your keep. I want you naked, by the count
of three. One…”

Her mouth parted in the most delicious way. Even more
pleasing was the way she scrambled to obey. Her hands flew to the buttons on
her riding habit. In a matter of moments she was down to her shift.

“Two…”

There went the shift, flying through the air to land on a
tussock of sweet grass. Under that, she wore plain brown knitted stockings that
came to just over her knees, along with half boots. On her they were the most
erotic underthings he’d ever witnessed. He sucked in his breath at his first
look at the fully nude, sunlit Miranda. Her firm and curvaceous form would have
entranced Botticelli, as would the way her hair had come loose during the ride
and now shrouded her upper body.

“You may leave your stockings and boots where they are. Hold
your hair away from your face.”

With both hands, she piled her dyed brown hair on top of her
head. Her nipples were still distended from his earlier teasing. Glancing down,
he saw that her clitoris peeked through her curls, red, swollen and begging.
His mouth watered.

“Part your legs.”

As if used to that command by now, she quickly spread her
stocking-clad legs apart. Moisture marred the smooth surface of her inner
thighs. She must be in a ferment of desire. Just the way he wanted her.

But he wanted something else even more, he discovered. “You
desire release, my sweet.”

Though it wasn’t a question, she answered, her face flushing
in the most endearing way. “If it pleases you, my lord.”

“It pleases me, though I will demand something else from you
afterward.”

“Anything, my lord. Your wish is my command.” The fervent note
in her voice made him smile.

“As it should be. Kneel down on the grass, on your elbows
and knees, with your rear pointing in my direction.”

Hot color flooded her face. Her eyes clung to his, as if
asking if that could possibly be right. He kept his face in firm, commanding
lines, giving her no room for doubt. He saw the exact moment she
surrendered—perhaps the sweetest of his life. She released her hair, which
flowed over her back as she lowered herself to her knees. Shifting so her back
was toward him, she leaned forward to rest her elbows on the grass. Her bottom
reared into the sunlit air, no inch of its surface in shadow. He ran his hand
across her smooth skin, down the crease, along the rim of her bottom hole.

“Someday I will breach this hole,” he told her, probing it
gently with his thumb. “I will open it, slowly but surely, until it can accept
me as easily as did your mouth.”

He moved her hair to the side so it hung down over her
shoulder, leaving her back bare. The line of her spine was absolutely
exquisite.

“Do you have any objection to that?” He spanked her lightly.

“No, milord,” came her shaky answer. “I am yours to
command.”

“Good. But since we have no oils or ointments to ease my
passage, we’ll have to content ourselves with this part of your anatomy.” He
tweaked the hot clit that protruded from her curls. She jerked forward and gave
a cry that echoed through the glade. God, she was hot. Tight and hot and all
his. He bent over her, an animal claiming his mate, and took command of her
clit, rubbing and teasing until shudders ripped through her body. But he knew
exactly where the edge was, and he kept her dancing on it until her bottom
swung back and forth and she begged him most piteously for release.

“I am the master here. You come when I tell you, not a
moment before.”

“Yes but—”

“One more word and I won’t allow you to achieve your peak.”

She snapped her mouth shut so only whimpers and moans
escaped.

He unbuttoned his fall, remembering with intense pleasure
how it had felt to have her tend to him with her mouth. His cock, which had
never entirely subsided from their last joining, sprang eagerly into his hand.
Before breaching her, he delivered another light spanking, watching the pink
rise to the surface, feeling the slick heat of her quim with his other hand.
That hand, the one planted between her legs, delved deeper, parting tissues and
folds, opening the way for his cock.

In one strong thrust, he plunged into her body, even as he
increased the pressure on her clit. She bucked forward, her head dropping to
her hands.

“Oh my lord, that feels so marvelous.” The words seemed to
emerge from the deepest part of her being. “Fuck me, my lord. Fuck me, I beg of
you.”

He felt her quiver in his arms, felt her clench around his
cock, fighting to hold back her orgasm. He remembered how sweetly she’d sunk to
her knees, how easily she’d tossed aside her clothes. A rush of sweetness
traveled throughout his body.

“You may come now.”

As he said it, he used his palm against her clit and ground
his cock into her, hardness beneath, hardness behind. She broke apart in his
arms with a long, grateful, keening cry. It went on and on, convulsions racking
her body, her inner walls clutching his cock. He drew the climax from her body
with all the skill and patience he’d spent his life developing.

Then he too came, and in the rush of sweet, soaring bliss,
he knew all those years were for her. For them, and everything they’d explore
together.

After, she stretched out on the grass, letting the sun warm
her body. As soon as his breathing had slowed and he’d tucked away his cock—she
gave a comical pout to see it go—he spoke briskly.

“Now for your promise to give me what I wish.”

“You have me naked before you, willing to offer you
anything.” She trailed one hand down her torso, looking like a thoroughly
satisfied siren rather than a drab nursemaid.

“And a charming sight you are. But my wishes are in another
direction. I desire…a secret. Any secret will do.”

She frowned. “This is a secret, as far as I’m concerned. I
certainly don’t intend to tell anyone about it.”

“No, no, my dear. One of
your
private secrets. Those
that lurk in those big brown eyes and weigh down your lovely shoulders. I wish
for one of those.”

She shivered as if a cloud had passed over the sun, and sat
up, wrapping her arms around her bent knees. “Such as?”

“For instance, why did your guardian wish to render you
unmarriageable? Or perhaps, how did you escape him? How did you make your way
to the Marquise’s deathbed? I want to know everything, but I’ve sworn not to ask
questions. But surely you can spare one secret out of so many.”

She worried at her bottom lip. He hated to cause her
distress, but she needed to release her secrets. The momentary discomfort would
be replaced by relief.

“I’ll make it easier for you. Answer the first question. Why
did your guardian not wish you to marry?”

“Very well. My guardian didn’t want me to marry because no
benefit would come to him if I found a rich husband. He intended to sell me
instead. One night at a time, to his friends.”

Black rage swamped the Marquis. His hands shook. His vision
hazed. “Who is this blackguard? I must know him. I know all the dissolute rakes
in England.”