Daphne heard Arthur let Jason in. “So good of you to come, Mr. Gale.”
“It’s fine, I was in the neighborhood this morning.”
She slowed and descended the final few stairs with decorum and a smile. “Jason. Thanks for coming,” she said, overly innocent.
He looked up at her and smirked a little. He hadn’t forgotten their rendezvous and she felt a current pass between them, same as it had when she’d been framed by her window and he’d eagerly watched.
“You’re welcome,” he said, equally innocent. “So where’s this dresser?” he said, and looked around, arms flexed.
With Jason’s help they were able to move the dresser into its final position, and a number of other small items of furniture, including some of the statues.
He refused to let her help, worried that she’d hurt herself or get dirty in turns, and instead used every opportunity he had to show himself off to her, like this was some sort of audition…which, Daphne realized, it sort of was. She couldn’t feel the Master’s disapproving looming anymore, and hoped that he’d gotten over his anger from this morning as Jason moved the last piece of carved wood.
“Are you sure that’s not a door stopper?”
“I think it’s supposed to be modern.” She tilted her head. “But now that you mention it – I wouldn’t place bets.” She laughed and he laughed, and Arthur returned.
“More tea?” he offered.
“No, thank you,” Jason said, straightening up. “I’m done for the day. It’s time to go home,” he said, looking at her, and she flushed.
A man had his pride. It was her turn.
“I do have a question about the stable, after all. Since you’re here -- can I show you?” she asked. She felt like the words were rushing out of her mouth, too fast.
He leaned against the wall behind him and squinted his eyes knowingly at her, taking all of her in. “Of course.”
Chapter Fifteen
Daphne walked outside reluctantly. It wasn’t that she didn’t want this, it was just that she felt like it was going to be up to her to proposition him. It was one thing in the window, separated by space and glass – this was different. It was real. Someone could get hurt.
Jason followed her, half a step behind, silent. She wished he would talk, but then what? What if he said the wrong thing? Silence was better, even if it gave her too much space to think.
Her heart started beating doubletime as the outline of the stable emerged beyond a copse of trees. It was noon, the sun was beating down, the shade inside would feel so cool – especially if she were naked. She glanced over at him and saw him watching her, that same even gaze he’d used all day, weighing, measuring. She felt hotter than she had any right to be, and something inside her shivered at the thought of touching his skin, and felt the parts of her that she wanted him to be in lightly squeeze. She had no right to be ready for sex again this soon, not after last night. But instead of satisfying her, the Master’s cock had only made her aware of how often she was starving.
They reached the stable and stepped inside. It smelled musty and old but not bad, and scattered piles of hay were dry.
“Have you seen the old workshop yet?”
Daphne shook her head.
“It’s probably not safe to go up there –“ he said, then grinned. “So we definitely should. Come on.” He jerked his chin at a narrow stair and started taking steps up two at a time.
Daphne followed him. This wasn’t how she had planned things – if she could have been said to have planned them at all.
“It’s the old man’s workspace – where he created all that ‘art’ inside your house.” Jason said the word mockingly. “But maybe he just needed an excuse to get out of his house. It’s not like they had TVs out here back then. Who can say.”
Daphne stepped up behind him and looked around. There were shelves of tools, neat and orderly, rows of metal things hanging against the walls, just where the Master had left them. Like he would come back at any time.
And there were half formed carved blocks here. More of the statuary, similar to what was inside, only still straining to get out. Figures of angels and demons, struggling not only with one another, but with the wood they were left trapped in, without the Master’s freeing hand. Daphne stroked a finger in the dust over the nearest statue, tracing the curve of an angel’s wing.
“I’d seen this place before – but I’d never seen any of the finished ones before today.”
“You’d never been inside of the house?” Daphne looked over at him.
“No.”
“Why not?”
He snorted and grinned ruefully. “No one ever invited me in.” He looked at her meaningfully, and then took a stronger stance, separating his legs like he was a drill instructor.
“So just what did you want done out here?” He looked directly at her and she swallowed.
“Are you going to make me ask for it?”
His eyebrow quirked, and his lips subtly pursed. “I’m afraid I am going to need to hear it out loud, yes. I’m not in the habit of assuming I can fuck my employers – or letting them fuck with me.”
That set her off her game. “Does this happen often enough you need a policy?”
“You’re not the first rich lady to think she owns me,” he said, his eyes studying her hard. Daphne was suddenly disappointed in herself for being so trite, and her shoulders sagged, which he noted and shook his head in admonishment. “You are, however, the first to fuck me through a window. Which I admit greatly brightened my day.” He took a step closer to her and her breath caught in her throat. She could smell the sweat of his day, the green grass he’d been cutting earlier hovering around him like an earthy perfume.
“You do want this, don’t you?” he asked her, eyes dark.
“Yes, please, yes.”
His full lips parted into a smile. “Good.”
There was a tangle of clothing. He pulled her shirt up over her head, exposing her skin for his hands and his mouth found hers as she reached for his shirt, pulling it out of his jeans. He was taller than she was, as tall as Richard, and it was easy to rock with his kisses, to let his tongue into her mouth and taste the eagerness to have her there.
She ran her hands down his smooth chest and felt the muscles bunch as she did so, him shuddering like a stallion, knowing his turn – their turn – was about to come.
He picked her up easily and dropped her into a nearby pile of hay. It poked and scratched at her until she squirmed to smooth it and then his mouth found her ear, her collarbone, and the musky weight of his body was so close. She gasped a sigh for him and a rough hand reached under her bra to feel her breast, then pull it up, showing more of her to him, his tan skin against hers so pale and white. His afternoon old beard grazed her on his way down, following his trail of kisses down to where his mouth took in her nipple and sucked at it, sending a bolt of electricity straight between her thighs. He moved from one breast to the next, kissing, touching, the roughness of his beard, the softness of his tongue, until his hands found the edge of her skirt and folded it up just like her bra and pulled her panties down.
Being kissed on her clit by a stranger was just like being kissed on the mouth by one, surprising, strange, unexpected yet comfortable. She looked down at him, seeing his dark hair bob between her open thighs, and she moaned as his tongue traced up her folds, lapping at her hidden spots.
“Oh – oh yes – “ she ran her fingers across his scalp and arched to claw them up his back before relenting to the sensation of his tongue, and he purred every time she groaned, her hips beginning to twitch in his wake.
Jason pulled himself up and kicked off his shoes and shoved down his pants – but not before retrieving something from his pocket. She heard the sound of the wrapper, but it took her a moment to place what it was, as she saw him reaching for his hard cock.
“No – don’t.” She pushed his hands away, and he eyed her warily.
“Why not?”
“Because –“ And here was the part where she would sound crazy. “I don’t want you to use one. I want to have a baby.”
“No way –“ he said, leveraging himself further back.
“No – really. My husband – we’re trying, but it’s not working out, and – he’ll never know. I’ll never tell him. I’m rich, you said it yourself -- but this is the one thing I can’t buy.”
“There’s ways –“ he said, shaking his head.
“They take so long. And…they’re not this fun.” She took her hand away from him and put it on his shoulder. “Please.”
His hand holding the condom wavered. And then slowly, ever so slowly, he set it down. Sensing he’d decided, she wordlessly leaned up and took her bra off, and then lay back.
He’d been taking his time before, but he took even longer now. He pulled his jeans all the way off, and then lowered himself back down beside her, his body aligned with hers, and pulled her to him, onto her side and hip, pulling her leg over his side. And when he entered her he watched her face like he was trying to memorize it.
He didn’t fuck her – instead he rocked with her, kissing her, holding her close, and Daphne thought if there really was a way to make sure you had a child, this was it. She bowed her head in and let him hold her, breathing him in, hoping this moment would take. She didn’t want to come – would that be a betrayal? To who? Was there anything left to betray? – but she felt the friction building inside of her, his gentleness stoking an already emberous fire. She started panting in his ear and she could tell he was holding himself back, waiting for her to release first – her hands held onto his shoulders and she bit her lips instead of crying out because it was like it didn’t count if she could keep the sound inside.
He felt her though, her pussy squeezing him tight, and his hands cupped her ass, bringing her closer – she felt him thrust into her and then gasp out as he came, his hips spasming into hers before slickly parting, and they were two naked strangers holding one another again.
“Thank you,” Daphne breathed out, trying to keep her legs closed. Please work. Please, please.
“You’re…welcome,” he said. The emotions on his face were hard to read, and he seemed unsure. Which was a good thing, wasn’t it? She didn’t want a child with someone who always thought they knew what was right, like Richard did.
“You do this sort of thing a lot?” she asked, not sure if she really wanted the answer.
“You’re not my first rodeo. But the baby thing – that’s new,” he said, shaking his head lightly.
“I’m sorry. I so appreciate it – this –“ she touched his chest carefully. Despite what they’d just shared, there was a gulf growing between them now. “My husband is gone a lot.”
His brow furrowed. “I’m not sure if I should say I’m sorry to hear that or not.”
“Me either. But thank you. I mean it.”
His eyes studied hers a moment more, and then he reached up to stroke her hair back from her forehead. “You’d probably better get back now, before Arthur gets worried.”
She nodded. She wanted to keep his cum inside her – and more than that, keep him there – but she stood nonetheless. He followed her up, pulling her skirt down for her and dusting the hay off. She pulled her underwear up demurely and tugged her bra back on while he reassembled himself not that far away.
They descended the stairs, looking much the same as they had when they’d gone up, only now a little sweatier, with secret smiles.
“When will you know if it takes?” Jason asked.
“Soon, I hope. A few days.”
He nodded, licking his lips. “What if it doesn’t?”
“Then –“ she looked at the ground, afraid to ask for what she wanted again.
“Your husband is gone a lot, isn’t he?” Jason said.
“He is.” Relief blossomed inside of her, right beside hope.
“So then…we’ll see.”
She gave him a tentative smile. “We will.” She danced backwards, like one of the high spirited horses that used to stay here, sending a long forgotten riding crop spinning away from one foot. It caught her eye and she chased after it, picking it up, all while Jason watched.
“What’s that?” he asked her, still looking at her like she was something strange – but also lovely.
Her eyes cast on the crop’s braided sheath and dusty leather end, then she smiled at him. “It’s a souvenir,” she said, and practically skipped home.
Chapter Sixteen
Arthur wasn’t waiting for her when she got back, which was perfect. She raced upstairs to her bedroom and closed the door. Maybe, just maybe – she threw herself onto her bed and cupped one hand to her belly.
Did the Master know what she’d done? Would he forgive her? She raised the other hand with the whip in it – she thought she knew how to make him.
“Ma’am?”
Arthur knocked on her door, rousing her from a light nap.
“Yes?” Sleeping was good, it gave her a reason for disarray, other than her interlude in the barn. She still smelled a little like dust and sweat, and even though she ought to, she didn’t want to wash it off.
“Dinner’s going to be a little late. The milk’s gone bad, and I need to go into town to get more for Mrs. Dudley.”
“That’s okay – I can eat a sandwich, honestly…” Daphne got out of bed and crossed the room to the door. “Unless – Arthur – I want to go into town with you.”
“Really, Ma’am? There’s not much to it.”
“No, I want to. Please. Give me five minutes, and I can meet you by the front door.”
“All right.”
She changed clothing quickly, then went into the bathroom to brush out her hair and spritz on perfume. It wasn’t like she’d know anyone in the town, and yet she felt she must meet a minimum standard for decorum. As the mistress of the house – if anyone still remembered it was here – she felt presentability was expected of her.
Returning to her room, she smoothed the sheets, and placed the riding crop squarely in the center of the bed. An offering for her dark god, herself the future lamb.
Pleased with this, she trotted down the stairs and found Arthur waiting. He bowed, and escorted her into his car.
The driveway wound and curved and she felt an almost physical pang as they passed through the final gate, leaving the house’s land behind.
“How many grocery stores are there in town?”
“Just one. It’s more of a market. That’s why we have to go now, they close after six.”
“Oh.” Daphne chewed on her lower lip. “What about other stores?”
“There’s a feed and tack store, a gas station, a hardware store, a few antique stores, and one small diner. And…that’s about it, I’m afraid.” Arthur sounded genuinely apologetic. “People come here to leave the hustle and bustle of the city behind. That’s why it’s such a good place to raise children. It’s so safe out here.”
Daphne nodded deeply. There was another reason she hadn’t showered after sleeping with Jason today. She didn’t want to wash his cum away, not when she was praying so hard it would take.
Arthur parked outside the market. It was hardly bigger than her house’s library. “I’ll just be a moment. Or, would you like to come inside?”
The market was on the ‘main’ street, apparently along with every other storefront Arthur had named for her. “No – I’m going to go look in some windows.”
“All right, Ma’am. I’ll be back in a little bit.” He grinned at her. “Don’t worry, I won’t leave without you.”
Daphne hopped out of the car and walked down the street. There were a few people out, and she heard the sussuration of cars zipping past on the road, off to more interesting places to be. She peeked in the windows of the hardware store and the diner, and then walked over to the nearest antique store. There were shelves and shelves of knick-knacks, carefully arranged and gathering dust. She opened the door and a bell chimed over head as she ste
pped inside.
“Hi, can I help you?” a woman asked, her voice preceding her.
Daphne looked up and was surprised to see a small blonde woman her own age. She’d assumed everyone in town was as ancient as Arthur – even if Jason had already proven her wrong.
“Oh, I’m just looking,” Daphne said.
“Passing through?” the woman guessed.
“No – I just moved here last week.”
“Really? A new neighbor! Did you buy the place up on Westridge?”
“No -- the house around the bend --” Daphne was sure the house had a name, but she didn’t know what it was yet.
The woman’s eyes widened in excitement. “With the long driveway and the stable out back? I hadn’t heard that it sold! About time!”
“You know about it?”
“Of course! My aunt used to work there!”
It was Daphne’s turn to brighten. “That’s amazing – can I meet her? I’d love to know the place’s history –“
The woman made an apologetic face. “We can ask her, but it’s hard to say how helpful she’d be. She’s at a nursing home near the coast, she has Alzheimer’s.”
Daphne put a hand to her chest. “Oh, I’m so sorry --”
“Don’t be, you couldn’t have known,” the blonde shook her head and smiled. “Did the prior owners empty it out?”
“What?”
“A lot of big estates, the families just get overwhelmed – or the places are so big, things just get lost, things that used to have meaning just go and get left behind.” She pointed to their surroundings. “Sorry – professional curiosity.”
Daphne snorted. “I think it’s a little of column A, a little of column B. There’s statues everywhere, like they were too heavy to bother with, and some dressers, some beds so big I think they were just assembled inside of the room – they could be there from the 1800’s. But your aunt probably knew more than I did – she probably told you stories, right?”
The Haunted (Sleeping with Monsters Book 1) Page 10
