Masters of the Castle: Witness Protection Program

by Maren Smith

  He set a punishing rhythm with his hips, pounding her into the mattress, driving her higher and higher to the peak of pleasure, his tattooed biceps bulging as he rested his weight on them.

  She felt the first stirrings of yet another orgasm and had just opened her mouth to ask permission when he lowered his head and slanted his lips over hers, all but bruising them with his fervor. At the feel of his tongue meshing with hers, she lost control, her climax washing over her at the same time as he reared back with a roar and came too, his thick shaft pulsing in time to her pussy contracting around it.

  They rode the peak together, his pelvis still juddering against hers, milking every last flutter of pleasure from her before he collapsed on top of her, his face buried against her neck.

  “Fuck,” he said at length, his breath hot on her skin.

  “Wow.” She couldn’t think of any other response. He was still inside her, his girth so wide that she still felt full even as his erection began to soften.

  With a visible effort, he pulled himself together and knelt up, withdrawing carefully. Even though she was completely spent, she already missed the feeling of him inside her. The emptiness felt like an ache.

  “I’ll be right back,” he said curtly, disappearing into the bathroom only to emerge a few moments later with a towel, which he rolled up and placed between her legs. “I know I used a rubber but you’re pretty soaked,” he added with a grin.

  Tasha blushed as he unfastened her cuffs from the rings on the headboard. Her arms were stiff and it took a moment for her to be able to move them back down to her sides.

  “You okay?” he asked, watching her.

  “Very. That was… I don’t even know the right word.”

  “Good, I hope.” He raised a black eyebrow, his green eyes glittering.

  She smiled despite herself. “Oh, better than that.”

  “If you hold out your hands, I can take the cuffs off.”

  Some hidden, alien part of her didn’t want him to remove them. She wondered why but held out her arms anyway, watching him unbuckle the black leather restraints with practiced ease. They were lined with some kind of soft material but he rubbed her wrists afterward all the same, and she relished the feel of his strong fingers massaging her skin.

  “Mmmn. That feels really nice,” she murmured, wishing he’d go on touching her forever.

  “So you’re glad you didn’t go back to the dorm, I take it?”

  “Very glad,” she admitted with a giggle. “Are you?”

  He responded with a huge yawn, practically dislocating his jaw. “Of course. Bloody tired now, though. You must be, too.”

  “I am, but I need to go to the bathroom first.”

  He lay back against his sumptuous pillows, his eyes already half-closed. “Be my guest.”

  She slid out of bed and made her way to the ensuite, dropping the towel in the laundry basket. Her legs still felt like jelly. After taking care of business and cleaning herself up, she stared at herself in the mirror.

  Her elaborate up-do was wrecked, with tendrils escaping all over the place. Half the pearls had vanished. She pulled out the remaining pins, wishing there was a comb. Of course, he wouldn’t need one for his closely shaved head. Raking her fingers through her hair, she gave up and decided the mussed up, messy look quite suited her. The kohl around her eyes was smudged, her lips swollen from his kisses. Basically, she looked exactly the way she felt: thoroughly and completely fucked.

  Padding back into the bedroom, she saw he had already fallen asleep, his breathing deep and even. His long, black lashes rested on his chiseled cheeks and she felt a wave of an emotion she couldn’t identify. Deciding not to think about anything, at least not right now, she got under the covers and snuggled up to him, laying her head on his chest.

  His arm moved and drew her close, hugging her to him, the heat of his body surrounding her like an embrace.

  Tasha closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, trying to imprint the feel of him and his scent on her memory.

  Just in case.

  Chapter 9

  She had disappeared. The bed had been empty when he’d woken up to sunlight streaming through the curtains, and a quick search through his modest but neat apartment had confirmed it: Tasha had left either sometime during the night or very early in the morning. There wasn’t even a note.

  Eamon, who had a rare day off and had been hoping to bury himself deep in her liquid heat before she even opened her eyes, was at a loss.

  Needing some time to think, he grabbed his sports bag and headed down to the gym.

  His mind was still racing when he entered the locker room.

  Had he scared her away? Had he not satisfied her? Pulling on some shorts and a sleeveless t-shirt, he replayed their fucking in his memory. No, he decided, while the actual sex had been fairly brief—at least, for his standards—he’d more than made up for it in other ways. Unless she was a good enough actress to deserve an Oscar, the orgasms she’d had had all been real.

  Lacing up his running shoes, he recalled the sounds she’d made, her breathy whimpers, her helpless, astonished cries when he’d found her G-spot. He felt himself grow hard again and cursed under his breath. Maybe he wouldn’t be able to screw her out of his system after all. The more he did to and with her, the more he wanted.

  And Christ, but she brought something out in him he was finding it increasingly impossible to ignore. He was usually a skilled, almost detached, lover, able to go for hours if the situation arose. Tasha, for reasons he still hadn’t been able to define, had only to give him a glance from beneath those long, curly lashes and he was lost. Whenever he was around her, his libido robbed him of sense, his cherished self-control was buried beneath the gut-wrenching, almost primal lust she aroused in him.

  Basically, she turned him into a hormone-driven teenage boy rather than a goddamn Master of the Castle.

  Taking a deep breath, he willed his throbbing cock to behave, pushing all thoughts of her out of his head until, finally, he was able to enter the gym.

  Dominick was already there. “Christ, you look awful,” he said by way of greeting.

  Eamon pulled a face and started warming up. “Long night,” he said evasively.

  “Oh yeah? Anyone I know?”

  “And why would you immediately assume that I was with someone?” Eamon couldn’t prevent the defensive tone in his voice.

  “Because it was Friday night and you weren’t hounding me to have some beers with you.” Dominick took a long swig from a water bottle before adding some more weights to his machine. “Maddy sends her best, by the way.”

  Eamon nodded. “How is she?”

  “Wonderful.” Dominick’s face lit up, as it always did when he mentioned his submissive.

  Eamon frowned and deepened his stretch, relishing the pull in his hamstring.

  “So… is it still the new hire who’s got you all tied up in knots?” Dominick probed further, when Eamon remained silent.

  “Fine. Yes. She, er, she stayed over last night.”

  Dominick stopped mid-lift. “Stayed over… in your apartment?”

  Eamon shot him a look. “We were hardly going to have a shagfest in the Little Maids’ dorm.”

  His best friend chuckled. “Fair point. Still, I’ve never known you to invite any woman up there. Ever.”

  “I know. Like I said, we didn’t have any other options.”

  “That’s the only reason?”

  Eamon met Dominick’s questioning gaze head on. “Sure it is.”

  “Liar,” Dominick said and resumed lifting weights.

  “Did you find anything out yet?” Eamon asked, trying to keep his tone neutral.

  “Sorry, haven’t had a chance to do much digging yet,” Dominick said, the muscles in his arms cording with effort. “What with Marshall being all distracted and worried about his cousin—not to mention Kaylee’s about ready to pop—I didn’t really want to bug him just based on a hunch you have.”

  “Is th
ere any news on the blind witness front?”

  “Not that I’ve heard.” Dominick set the weights back down and mopped his face with the towel he kept slung around his neck. “Mind you, I’ve been kind of busy doing two people’s jobs ever since… when did she start? Thursday?”

  “Hey!” Eamon said, offended. “You telling me I haven’t been pulling my weight?”

  “How many client appointments have you had since Little Miss Maid arrived? One?”

  “I can’t help it if bookings are down.”

  “And how did that one go?” Dominick shot him a pointed look.

  Fuck. “Fine.” Eamon crossed his arms defiantly.

  “Liar.”

  “All right, I’m sorry. I should have told you immediately after it happened. I was just having an off day.”

  Dominick’s eyebrows rose so high they almost met his hairline.

  “Did the client complain to you?” A sudden, heavy dread settled in Eamon’s gut. “Did she complain to Marshall?”

  “No. But she did immediately book a second appointment for the following day, with the direct specification that it be with someone else.”

  “Ouch.” Eamon sighed and ran a hand over his jaw.

  “What went wrong?”

  “Are you asking as my friend, or as my boss?”

  “Both.”

  “I told Tasha to come directly back to the Dungeon after lunch to resume work. Instead, she went AWOL.”

  “So instead of concentrating on the client, you were busy cooking up all sorts of delightful ways to punish Little Miss Maid?”

  “I wish you wouldn’t call her that,” Eamon growled. “And no, not exactly. I was wondering why she’d risk her job within just twenty-four hours of starting it. We all know how many people would kill to work here. And to go through the application process, the pre-approval, the waiting, the joy of getting accepted, more waiting, and then the tedious orientation procedures, only to up and abandon your post the very next day… it doesn’t make sense.”

  “Or she’s one of the ones who likes to deliberately get into trouble,” Dominick countered. “Did you even consider that?”

  “Frankly, no. She’s just… look, if you met her, if you had just a brief conversation with her, you’d know exactly what I mean. It’s just hard to describe.”

  Dominick got up and strode over to the leg press machine. Eamon followed him.

  “Which begs the question, if you don’t think she’s legit, why are you screwing her?” Dominick said, setting his feet against the metal plate and pushing it up with his powerful thighs.

  “Honestly?”

  “Honestly.”

  “I don’t know. She just does something to me, man. It’s like I can’t control myself around her and for the life of me, I can’t figure out why.”

  Dominick grinned. “Now I really want to meet this chick. A woman who has that kind of power over you, of all people, must truly be special.”

  “Shut up,” Eamon retorted. “I’m trying to get some solid advice here.”

  “All right. You want my advice? Stop letting your dick rule your head and sort your shit out. And while I still believe you’re just trying to find an excuse to avoid anything that even looks like it might lead to the L-word, if you really think she’s not legit, for Christ’s sake, find out for sure before you take it any further.”

  “How?”

  “Have you tried just asking her?”

  “Sure,” Eamon scoffed. “Hey, I get the feeling you’re hiding something. Wanna tell me what it is?”

  “Don’t be fatuous.”

  “I ask her pointed questions all the time. She just evades them.”

  “Where did she end up being?” Dominick stopped to rest his legs.

  “Huh?”

  “When you had your client appointment and she went AWOL. Where did you find her?”

  “The Rainbow Room. But instead of going online or contacting anyone, she was huddled in the corner, almost like she was hiding. Or lying in wait.”

  Dominick shook his head. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

  “No kidding.”

  “Did you ask her what she was doing?”

  Eamon felt himself flush. “No. I was angry. I dragged her back to the Dungeon and threatened to report her to Grimsley.”

  “And her reaction was?”

  “Panic.”

  “So she doesn’t want to get fired.” Dominick shrugged. “What happened then?”

  “It doesn’t matter.” Suddenly, Eamon was desperate to end the conversation. He was worried that if he told his best friend about their first session together—not to mention their fuck—it would somehow tarnish the memory.

  “You punished her instead.” Dominick’s golden brown eyes were studying him intently.

  “Yes.”

  “Well, there you have it. Like I said: a typical little brat, deliberately misbehaving because she gets off on the consequences.”

  “I guess so.” Eamon was done talking. He wanted to start his own workout—maybe work off some of his frustration—and then go find out where Tasha had gone.

  “Where is she now?”

  “Who?”

  Dominick rolled his eyes. “Little Miss Maid. What was her name again?”

  “Tasha. I don’t know. She was gone when I woke up.”

  “Has it occurred to you that maybe she has to work today even though you don’t?”

  Eamon was only just able to stop himself from slapping his forehead. Of course. She’d probably gone to roll call, as was required of all Little Maids on the mornings they were on duty. “Yes,” he lied.

  “Then she’ll probably be in the Dungeon. I’ll go find her when I’m done here, have a little chat, okay?”

  Something in Dominick’s tone gave Eamon the distinct impression he was merely being humored. Still, he was in no mood to call his friend out on it. “Thanks. Appreciate it.”

  “Besides,” the corners of Dominick’s mouth lifted in a smirk, “I have got to see the woman who has your panties in such a knot.”

  Scowling, refusing to rise to the bait, Eamon picked up his water bottle and towel and stalked to the other side of the gym.

  Mrs. Hardwick was terrifying, Tasha decided, eyeing the head housekeeper warily as she stalked back and forth in front of the gathered Little Maids, her hands clasped behind her back, her chestnut hair drawn back into a severe bun at the nape of her slender, graceful neck.

  Master Grimsley was equally terrifying—the way he always held his switch like a silent warning never failed to made her clench her buttocks defensively whenever he was nearby.

  “Those of you on regular assignments may now leave to commence your duties,” Mrs. Hardwick was saying. “Those of you with demerits to work off, please go to the Rainbow Room to do so. Off you go.”

  There was a light murmur of conversation as the women, all in identical uniforms, wearing identical yellow bracelets, began to disperse. Mrs. Hardwick was wearing a white bracelet in addition to her yellow one. Master Eamon had two as well; one white and one black. Tasha was sure she’d seen something about the significance of the bracelets in the reams of paperwork she’d been given on her first day—had it really only been the day before yesterday?—but she was damned if she could remember any of it.

  She was just trying to decide whether her previous two shifts in the Dungeon counted as a regular assignment or whether she was free to go and find Carmen when Lishy came bounding up, her hazel eyes sparkling.

  “There you are! I’ve been looking for you forever! You weren’t in your bed last night, young lady,” she whispered. “So either you worked all through the night—which I highly doubt—or you were with someone. Do tell. I want all the juicy details.”

  Tasha blushed. “Did anyone notice I was gone?” she asked. “Am I in trouble now?”

  Lishy shook her head. “Master Grimsley sometimes comes in late and does a head count but he’s been really distracted these last couple of days. I’
ve hardly seen him, which is very bizarre. So I don’t think anyone even missed you. But don’t try to change the subject. Who was the lucky guy? Or shall I try to guess?”

  “Maybe it was a girl.” Tasha tried to give her an enigmatic smile.

  Lishy frowned for a moment. “Hmm,” she said at length, “I don’t get that vibe from you, but I could be wrong. So was it a girl? Come on, I want to know everything!”

  “I have to get to work,” Tasha said, her face growing hotter. “I don’t want to get into trouble.”

  “Pah,” Lishy said with a snort, “that’s not what you’re afraid of. You just don’t want to give me any decent gossip.”

  “Well, that too.” Tasha began to head out of the dormitory, where the Little Maids were asked to gather every morning, standing like little soldiers at the ends of their beds while their uniforms and sleeping areas were examined and found to be either passable, or switch-worthy. To her utter exasperation, Lishy remained by her side like an overeager puppy.

  “Don’t you have somewhere to be?” Tasha said pointedly.

  “I got a couple of demerits I have to work off. But that can wait a few minutes,” Lishy said airily.

  “Demerits?”

  “Yeah. One way they have of punishing us.” Lishy rolled her eyes. “God, didn’t you listen to anything they said during Orientation?”

  “Yes! But it was so much information… at some point, I have to admit my focus started to wane.” I was thinking about William. Where he is. Whether he’s all right.

  “Demerits are like black marks—if you do something bad and get caught, Masters and Mistresses like to give you one. You work them off by offering your services to a Castle guest in the Rainbow Room.”

  Tasha already had her hand on the door handle but that little nugget of information stopped her in her tracks. “Rainbow Room?” she said quietly.

  “Yes, you know, we call it that because that’s where people from all bracelet color programs tend to congregate to use modern tech—”

  “I know why they call it that,” Tasha said, interrupting Lishy in her enthusiasm. “I was just wondering why the demerits are worked off there, of all places.”