Masters of the Castle: Witness Protection Program

by Maren Smith

  Except she already knew what would happen if she ever worked up such extraordinary nerve. His eyes would light with dark, wanton hunger, but his expression would turn to stone and instead of opening his arms, he would send her away. Even with his cock rising to greet her, he would make her go. Because…

  She had no idea what his reasons were, but she wished she did. If she knew what was stopping him from taking that last seductive step, then maybe she would know how to counter it. Right now, all she knew was how much she wished she had the courage to just walk through this door. To tell him it was okay, and she didn’t care if the attraction she was feeling was nothing more than Castle magic. She’d never felt it so strong before. It was impossible to think beyond the warring of her feelings—the lust of the attraction, the ache that his quiet, utilitarian authority inspired with little more than a look. The stiff way he held himself, shoulders back, hands clasped upon the switch he carried, usually gripped behind his back. As if that might somehow diminish the ever-present threat of it.

  Nothing about him felt diminished. Not when he was in his butler’s uniform. Not when he was out of it; her hands caressed the door. Not even when he was in the kitchen, an apron hanging from his neck and tied about his waist to protect his tidy clothes while he cooked a modest spaghetti supper, like last night.

  And certainly not when, supper consumed and contract long since filled out, he took the empty dishes away, pulled the chair he’d been sitting on back from the couch and declared in that soft, calm way of his, “It’s late. Time for bed, but first, put yourself across my knee, Eden. I’m going to spank you now and it won’t be pleasant.”

  Her pussy fluttered, as much now at the memory of it as it had when she’d first been facing down that moment.

  The spanking had been as awful as it had been wonderful. The loneliness of having to sleep in a bed that smelled so strongly of him was even worse. Her ass was on fire, but her pussy was so desperate for his caress that somewhere along the way, waggling in the aftereffects of pain became a slow, languid hump against the blankets. She wasn’t brave enough to slip a hand down between her legs. She didn’t want him to laugh at her if he caught her masturbating.

  He wouldn’t catch her now. He was in the shower. All hot, wet, soapy and alone.

  The only way he could catch her now would be if she went in there.

  Of course, if she went in there, then he might just give her that dark look of his, maybe arch his eyebrow in that stern way that made the butterflies soar through her… right before he scolded her. He might even spank her for it. In her fantasy, he didn’t even put on a towel first before ordering her to drop her sheet, then bending her over his lean, naked hip. She’d put her hand on the back of his shin, for stability. He’d put his hand on the curve of her bottom, still tender here and there from the vigor with which he’d disciplined her last night.

  “You just don’t learn,” he’d say in that deep, dark, scarily calm voice. Or maybe, he’d say, “When I desire it, not you,” right before his hand came cracking down in brisk, meaty slaps that would both catch her breath and ignite the fire in her womb. Or, hell, maybe he’d just say, “Focus, Eden. Focus.”

  Oh, she was focused, all right. Right now, all she could feel was the fiery burning of her focus, flooding down through her nethers to tickle at her folds. Her nipples were tight, pulsing in time with the throbbing in her clit and the beating of her heart. The feeling was exquisite. Like the suckling of a warm mouth. Grimsley’s mouth.

  Her knees dipped. She grabbed the door, she told herself, only because she was unbalanced. At this moment, anything was a good thing to hold on to. Even if it was the latch that kept the door closed. Even if it gave way beneath her thumb and the whole door pushed open before her like someone else was shoving against it.

  Even if she walked inside that bathroom completely uninvited.

  Grimsley liked his showers hot. The steam engulfed her when she slipped inside, softly closing the door behind her to keep the heat in and the cool out. It took two shaky breaths before she could gather the pulsing, suckling tatters of her courage enough to dare face him.

  His bathroom was so neat, so clean, so tidy. His dirty clothes must have been in the hamper, because all she saw was the fresh uniform hanging on a hook on the back of the door. The shower and tub were two separate conveniences. The white, slightly mother-of-pearl incandescent floor tiles extended all the way into the shower, over the slight lip that kept the water in and all the way up the wall to the ceiling. The glass door that enclosed it was completely clear, speckled with water, dotted with steam, but not so much so that she couldn’t clearly make him out. And certainly, not so much that he couldn’t see her in return.

  Both his hands were braced against the wall only slightly higher than his shoulders. Earlier, perhaps, he might have been dousing his head under the spray, but from the moment she turned and her eyes found his, he was just standing there. Letting the water sluice over his back and down his body. Staring right back at her.

  Oh, how the stiff straightness of his butler’s uniform had lied. Yes, he was tall. Yes, he was lean, but every inch of him was contoured muscle over a heart-stoppingly masculine frame. A smattering of dark hair speckled across his chest, leaving a vast barren stretch of unmarred skin leading down his lean stomach. The thin line of a happy trail beckoned her gaze to follow it south just a little bit further. The moment her gaze caressed it, his cock began to grow. Her mouth ran dry; he was height-length proportionate, with the thickness of him jutting high and proud before she managed to drag her gaze back up.

  He did not beckon her closer, but she took comfort from the fact that he didn’t order her out, either. Pushing back off the wall, he faced her instead, naked and completely unashamed. If she looked like that, she would be unashamed too, Eden thought and on the heels of that: How could anyone have thought him old?

  It was her move. What did she have the courage to do? Dared she go a little further, or was she going to chicken out entirely and flee back to the living room? Back to safety. Back to sleeping all night long, in Grimsley’s bed but without him beside her. Because he was waiting for some nameless, faceless thing to happen that would tell him this—this right here—was right.

  Fingers loosening their grip, Eden let the bedsheet fall to the floor at her feet.

  His breath caught. She saw it, that tell-tale hitch that stopped his chest mid-rise, sending that leap of muscle to tighten his jawline. It leapt again when she stepped from the puddle of her discarded sheet, bare feet crossing the damp tile floor until she reached the shower door.

  He turned again when she let herself inside, keeping himself always facing her, the rising jut of his cock leading the way. At the periphery of her vision, she saw it twitch, tugged by the clench of eager muscle and the pounding of his own heart. Her fingers ached to reach for him, but she didn’t. It felt wrong to touch something so perfect without permission. Eden did the next best thing, the only thing she could think to do in the only way she knew how to do it.

  She lowered herself to her knees before him. She was for him, after all. All of her, as much as he wanted. She didn’t know what to do with her hands, so she put them behind her. Her breasts weren’t perfect—a little on the small side and more pointed than the high, round globes all the movie stars seemed to have—but she offered them to him anyway. Hesitantly, she spread her knees apart, offering him that part of her too. Lifting her chin, terrified that she might be doing this wrong, that she might look ridiculous, that he might start laughing at any second, even more hesitantly, Eden opened her mouth.

  Please, her soul cried.

  She had no idea what her eyes were saying, but his were saying plenty. She saw the darkness. She saw the hunger. She’d been watching both growing now for days behind the calm he always showed her, even when he was spanking her to the point that she couldn’t hold still and beyond. She should not have been surprised that calm right now was nothing like what he was truly feeling, and y
et, when she tipped back her head and opened her mouth, inviting him in, that darkness in his eyes flared and the hunger exploded, right through that mask of calm.

  One strong step had him towering over her, the fingers of his left hand combing back through her hair, water raining down off of him onto her face and her chest as he seized her.

  “Mind your teeth,” he growled, closing his other hand around the shaft of his cock. Big as his hands were, his cock was bigger. She barely had time to roll her lips over her teeth before he fed it into her mouth. He pushed, too slow to be a thrust, but deep enough that when it hit the back of her throat, she gagged.

  Her hands flew up, catching at his lean hips, but he was already withdrawing.

  “Relax your throat,” he told her. “You can breathe. Relax.”

  Her instinct was to jerk back but she fought that down. His grip on her head kept her anchored where he wanted her, where she wanted him to want her. She opened her throat, forced her jaw to go as slack as she could make it and closed her eyes, giving herself over to the feeling of just… being taken. Being used in the most base and seductive of ways. He was utterly male, and no other point in her life had she ever felt as feminine as she did now.

  “Look at me,” he ordered, growling.

  She opened her eyes, loving the intensity in his face as he fucked her willing mouth. Thrust after thrust. Shallow and fast, slow and deep; sometimes pushing all the way into the back of her throat until it didn’t matter how relaxed she tried to be, she could not suck any air. Then it was nothing but sheer will that kept the panic at bay while he held her, impaled upon his cock while her throat worked and her head began to pound.

  “Fuck, yes,” he said, pulling out abruptly. “Breathe. Deep breath. Hold it.”

  Back in again he went, as deep as he could go. So deep that she felt an answering pang of need in her empty, aching pussy. Suddenly, he released his hold on her head. Hands behind his back, he tried to step back but, robbed of his cock, she chased him. Now it was her turn, hungrily impaling herself upon the long, hard length of him. Sucking and licking, cupping his shaft and his balls as she explored him with her lips and her tongue. She followed every ridge and vein, she closed her mouth around the very head of him and suckled like an infant at a pacifier until she tasted those first creamy drops.

  Her eyes all but rolled in her delight. She tried again to curl her tongue around him but he caught her hair in both hands this time, growling, “Enough.”

  From the moment he took control, she felt her whole body go calm, even as she tightened. The emptiness in her sex felt as vivid as sound. It was deafening, a reverberating roar that swept up through every tingling nerve until she couldn’t bear not to slap a hand down between her legs and touch. She was hot, she was wet in ways that had nothing to do with the warmth of the water flowing off him and onto her.

  “Do you want to touch your pussy?” Grimsley asked, his dark eyes sparkling with hungry amusement as he began to fuck again, slow at first, just the barest inch of length dipping in and out between her lips.

  Oh, shoot. Was that another mistake? Should she have waited for permission?

  A corner of his mouth lifted. “It’s all right, this once,” he assured. “Go on. Play with your pussy. I want you to take yourself right to the edge of coming, but you’re not to go any further until I give you that permission.”

  She relaxed her throat, welcoming him into her like the willing sheath that she was. It was much, much harder to breathe now. Not because of him, but because of her. She tried to time her fingers’ movements with his, stroking herself as he stroked her. Quickening the pace when he shortened his thrusts, going slowly no matter how maddening it was when he drove into her long and deep.

  She felt his groan in every trembling inch of her. In her thighs and the tiny spastic twitches of her womb, as the growing tightness inside her wound to the point of snapping free. Her legs shook. Her belly shook too. Her hips kept trying to roll, curling up as if to meet the quickening thrusts with which he was taking her mouth.

  His breaths began to quicken as well. His hands on the side of her head, entangled in her wet hair, caught hard. His hips began to jerk, the muscles of his buttocks beneath her hands twitching with the coming of his end.

  “Now,” he grunted, and she tried to. She really tried to, but her timing was off. It wasn’t until she felt that first salty hot spurt jet across her tongue that all that hot tightness inside her sprang into glorious freedom. Her orgasm tore into her, wave after wave, each spurred on by another salty jet. She didn’t just suck, she swallowed too. She was really very proud of that, and she didn’t stop. Not until her Master came back to himself enough to open his eyes.

  His cock was starting to soften when he at last pulled out of her mouth. There were dribbles of sperm on her lips, sticky ropes of it dangling from her chin, but there was nothing of it left on her tongue. Something she happily showed to him just as soon as he was out of her.

  Looking down at her, Grimsley lost his composure first to a smile, and then to a gentle laugh. “Good girl,” he said, stroking her hair back from her wet face.

  Eden grinned.

  Chapter 14

  Saturday was the longest day of Eden’s life, and every minute of it was spent in the shower. Except, not really. It was as if she were living in a kind of sexually charged daze in which she followed Grimsley to breakfast, held her plate through the buffet line while he put things on it, sat with him in the Masters’ private dining room, just off the main area, and even engaged in conversation. Both with him and with what few others came down to eat that early. She couldn’t for the life of her recall one word she said or what was discussed. She couldn’t remember the faces of those who joined them, and that was even after she’d finished her orange juice and Grimsley brought her a compromising cup of coffee.

  She followed Grimsley through the early morning inspection of the Little Maids, holding the clipboard he gave her and dutifully jotting down who got demerits and for what. She watched the coolness with which he got tough on secret employees and guests alike. Her stomach fluttered, her nerves humming and her bottom clenching in sympathetic dread each time he put his fearsome switch to use. She marveled that she never once felt an itch of jealousy as she watched him work, but then, he never once looked at any of them with the same hungry intensity that he always used with her. Like when a runner sent from Master Eric came, ordering her to meet with the detectives and their canine to search more guest rooms.

  Grimsley took the clipboard back. “Go,” he allowed, “but I expect you back immediately afterward.”

  The look he gave her would have melted her panties in a second, except that he hadn’t let her wear any again today.

  “You will be accessible to me whenever I choose,” he’d told her.

  So far, those moments of choosing had come at the breakfast table, when he’d reached under the table and under her skirt, his caressing fingers seeking out and finding her clit and damn near bringing her to come, in front of three other people, all while calmly asking if breakfast was to her liking.

  The look he sent her off to her meeting with promised another moment just as nerve-wrackingly hot as soon as she returned. And, to that end, Eden wasn’t all that upset when neither the undercover detectives nor their dog showed up at the scheduled time.

  She waited in the Littles’ wing for almost an hour, but after that, she hurried on back to Grimsley’s office. Where she was promptly put to work, in an incredibly boring but non-sexy capacity, filling out the paperwork necessary to check out all the Little Maid guests who would be leaving the Castle that morning, followed by filling out all the paperwork on the guests scheduled to arrive too.

  Beds in the dormitory were changed, personal spaces cleaned out and then it was lunchtime. They had sandwiches and chips in the privacy of Grimsley’s office, complete with tea for him and coffee for her, and conversation that revolved around fantasies.

  “I don’t really have a fav
orite,” she’d tried to hedge.

  “Of course you do,” he countered, saucer in one hand, tea cup in the other, legs crossed at the knee as he leaned back in his chair, studying her from across the expanse of his tidy desk. “Everyone has at least one fantasy that they come back to again and again. Tell me about it.”

  Her body flushed so hot she thought for sure she might combust, but eventually she did. Shyly, unable to look him in the eye, she told him about lying in her bed at night, pretending to be asleep while he came into her room, pulled the blankets back and, without even rolling her onto her back first, climbed on top.

  “Sometimes my hands are tied,” she confessed. “Sometimes they’re not.” It was an even harder, hotter confession when she admitted, “Sometimes I want you to do it and sometimes… I-I don’t. Is that wrong?”

  “You’ll always have your safeword,” he said, dark eyes hooded and hard to read.

  “What about you?” she asked, in an attempt to change the subject to something less humiliating.

  A slow smile curled the corners of his mouth before he hid it behind his cup. “We’ll talk about it tomorrow. In the shower, perhaps.”

  And then it was nighttime and the demerit hour. Three guests and one employee arrived to sit on Grimsley’s bench. One at a time, he dealt with them, and all the while, Eden stood in the corner, holding her skirt up off her naked bottom. She was so glad she was facing the corner. If she closed her eyes, she could almost make believe each scolding he gave was directed at her… up until the switch strokes began to fall and someone else did the yelping. After each one, Grimsley came back to her. He’d sidle up behind her back, the size and heat of him closing all around her as he let his hand slip under her skirt and there she’d be, struggling to keep her knees steady and her breathing even while he sought and found her clit. Around and around his fingertips rolled, until her hips were echoing that same motion and she was perched right at the very edge of coming.