by Sadie King
Master of the House
Filthy Rich Love - Book 1
Sadie King
Master of the House
Jonathan
I haven’t left the estate for seven years. Until she turns up at the gates. She’s full of smiles and wonder and every good thing in this world that I’m not. I can’t keep my eyes off her. I watch her through my bank of cameras, my window to the world. But if she saw me, if she knew what I really was, she’d run.
Chloe
No one ever sees the reclusive master of Tanner Hills, but he sees everyone. The feeling of being watched is thrilling. Then he speaks to me. From the moment I hear his voice, I’m in love. It’s deep, it’s demanding and it’s making me want to do dirty things…
Master of the House is a short and steamy romance featuring an alpha male and younger woman.
Book 1 in the Filthy Rich Love series. Each book in the series is a standalone. No cliff-hangers!
Copyright © 2019 by Sadie King.
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Cover designed by Designrans.
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual events, companies, locales or persons living or dead, are entirely coincidental.
www.authorsadieking.com
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Fox in the Garden is a bonus book in the Filthy Rich Love series exclusive to email subscribers.
William
When I escape for some air before the most important business call of my life, I don’t expect to find a woman dancing barefoot in my Zen Garden.
The last two years of my life have been spent working toward this business deal. But now all I can think about is her.
Ariel
Dad’s drinking is getting worse, and it’s starting to lose him clients. So I step in and take over the gardening business. But who knew our most profitable client was such a silver fox?
He’s older than me, confident and handsome. The kind of man who knows what he wants and isn’t afraid to take it. And I think what he wants is me…
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Contents
1. Chloe
2. Jonathan
3. Chloe
4. Jonathan
5. Chloe
6. Jonathan
7. Chloe
8. Jonathan
Epilogue
King of the Air
Chapter 1
1
Chloe
I'm being watched. I know it suddenly and with certainty by the prickly feeling at the back of my neck. I squint up at the wrought iron gates in front of me. The elaborate twirls and swirls meet at the top to spell out “Tanner Hills.” The name of the mansion that sits, all red-bricked elegance, on the other side of the biggest, most intimidating gates I’ve ever seen.
There's a movement at the top where the gate meets the wall. A security camera swivelling around to get a good look at me.
My blouse is tight against my breasts and my skirt's too short, but it's too late to adjust them now. I stare up at the camera defiantly. When you're filling in for the person who's filling in, you have to take whatever size uniform you’re given.
The intercom crackles.
“State your business.“
The voice is deep and authoritative and sends a thrill down my spine.
”I, ah, I'm from the agency.“
I wince inwardly at how squeaky my voice sounds in comparison. I cough and try again.
“Jenny's sick, and ah, Lisa's on holiday, so they sent me.”
“What's your name?” the voice asks, and I swear it sounds like a lion purring, all deep and low and rumbling.
“Chloe.” I lick my lips nervously and wait.
A minute ticks by and there's nothing more from the intercom. I can feel the camera still watching so I straighten my back and wait patiently, hoping whoever's behind that swivelling camera doesn't clock me for the fraud I am.
I'm not even supposed to be here. But mom's getting worse, so for the last week I've shown up at the cleaning agency down the road hoping they'll give me work.
I could tell something big had gone down this morning because they were all in a panic. Calling everyone on the books in desperation, until they turned to me.
I got a lecture on manners and professionalism and all sorts of stuff that seemed a bit much for someone going to a cleaning job, even an 18-year-old with no experience. Well no “formal” experience as I kept getting told, as if cleaning up after one of Mom's treatments doesn't count as cleaning experience.
But now that I'm here, in front of Tanner Hills Mansion while a stranger behind a camera lens judges me, I'm not feeling so certain.
A few minutes pass and I'm about to give up, turn around, and go home. Then I think of mom and how pale she was this morning. I reach for the buzzer. But before I can press it, the gates swing silently open. Which I guess means I passed the first test.
I'm doing a little dance on the inside as I walk down the tree-lined avenue to the mansion. I can't shake the feeling that I'm still being watched. Some people might find that weird but it makes me tingle, knowing the owner of that deep rumbling voice is watching me.
I glance up looking for cameras and spot one on a lamppost. They're the old-fashioned kind of lamppost that look like something out of a black and white movie. Black wrought iron with swirls to match the gate, positioned at intervals from the gate to the house.
This whole place is so fricken’ beautiful. I can't help but stop to take it all in. It's a million miles away from the two-bedroom flat I left this morning.
I look up and grin at one of the cameras because who wouldn't smile living in a place like this? Then I remember I'm here to work and I'll probably get fired if I don't get to the house and start cleaning.
The door has one of those big brass knockers and I can hear the knock echo on the inside as I let the brass strike the door. I straighten my hair and smooth my skirt, ready to meet the man behind the voice. My heart's racing when the door swings open.
“Oh”
It's a middle-aged lady in a knit skirt and sensible cardigan. She’s smiling so sweetly I feel bad for feeling so disappointed.
“Are you from the agency dear?” she asks.
“Yes, I'm Chloe.”
“Come on in Chloe. I'm Mrs. Hughes, the Estate Manager”
She ushers me inside and starts chatting about where the cleaning supplies are. I'm trying to listen, but I can't help but stare at the ornate staircase that takes up half the fricken' entryway.
It's beautiful, one of those ones you see in the movies with twin spirals that meet in the middle. The marble is speckled with gold and a lush strip of carpet runs down the middle.
Mrs. Hughes hands me a duster. I follow her up the staircase and can't resist reaching out a hand to trail a finger up the velvet-lined banister. My finger sinks into the plush fabric making my nerve endings tingle.
Mrs. Hughes stops before a closed door on the second floor. She fixes me with a look that makes me feel guilty, like she knows I haven't really been listening.
“The master of the house is... quite part
icular.” She says in a low voice. I lean in to hear her. “He likes things just so.”
I frown. “What do you mean?”
“Dust around objects, don't touch them. If you must pick them up, put them back exactly where they were.” She holds her finger up on the word “exactly” to give it emphases.
“Does he have OCD?” I ask.
Mrs. Hughes frowns and I'm worried I've offended her. “He's particular.” She says again.
“Is he in today?”
She laughs. “The Master is in every day.” I must look confused because she continues.
“He hasn't left Tanner Hills in seven years.”
Before I can respond, she's opening the door and ushering me inside.
“Will I see him?” I ask. Feeling nervous and a little thrilled that this deep-voiced man, who's particular about the way he likes things done, might be prowling the halls.
She shakes her head.
“No one sees the master.” She turns to go and before shutting the door fixes me with a look.
“But he will see you.”
As my eyes adjust to the gloom, I discover I'm in a sitting room, at least I think that's what it's called. There's a chaise longue at one end. It's covered in a crushed black velvet and set on golden legs.
Two matching armchairs face it with a black coffee table in the middle. Another set of armchairs are in front of a fireplace, which doesn't look like it's been used in a while, judging by how clean it is.
The walls are lined with old portraits. There's a bookcase and a large mirror with a golden frame leans against the opposite wall to the chaise longue.
I pull open the thick velvet curtains to the only window and the gloom is immediately banished. With sunlight streaming in I can see a thin layer of dust particles on the surfaces. I lift my duster and get to work.
I'm running the duster around the edge of the mirror when the skin on the back of my neck prickles. I'm being watched again. The sensation travels all the way down my spine and the back of my legs until even my knees have goose bumps.
I finish dusting the mirror and move to the mantelpiece. A soft whirring sound comes from the top of the bookcase. I glance up and spot the camera following me. I can't help but flash it a smile. It's so thrilling being watched, it makes me feel all fluttery, as if something exciting is about to happen.
There are a few ornaments on the mantelpiece I dust around. Then I come to a photo frame that's fallen over on its face. I reach for it and a voice makes me jump.
“Don't touch that.” It's the sexy rumble from before and my heart races.
“Sorry,” I say, not sure if he can hear me. I look around for a speaker and spot the intercom by the door.
“Don't move the photo frames,” the voice booms.
There's a few more frames on the mantelpiece and they're all flipped forward. I dust around them leaving them all face down.
My heart's still racing by the time I get to the last item on the mantelpiece, a statue of a lion, its jaws open in a roar. I dust its feet and have to reach up to get all of the statue. My skirt rides up tickling the backs of my thighs and I blush, knowing he's still watching.
“Spread your legs.”
The command is so powerful, so thrilling that I obey at once. I step my feet apart, as wide as the tight skirt will let me.
“Dust the lion again.”
A thrill runs through me like an electric shock. I reach up and this time with my legs spread my skirt rides up higher, giving the camera a perfect view of my bare thighs. A warm shiver spreads up my legs and into the hot place between. I take my time going over the lion again running the duster through the gaping mouth while I wait for his next instruction.
“Take your blouse off.”
The command is so outrageous I should be racing out the door, down the staircase and out through the gate. But instead my trembling hands ease open the buttons and I wriggle out of my too tight blouse. Thank god I put on my good bra today. It's white and lacy and just barely contains my boobs. They push up over the top and I'm aware they're heaving as I try to get my breathing under control.
I'm standing half-naked in the middle of a room while a complete stranger feasts his eyes on my body. I've never done anything like this before. I've never even been with a man. It feels so wicked and so delicious and so right.
“Dust the bookcase.” He commands.
I do as instructed, looking for a second camera in the room. I find it over the mantelpiece.
The bookcase has rows of old books that don't look like they've ever been read. I run the feather duster over the leather-bound volumes and thrust it into the crevices.
“Do the bottom shelf.”
I start to crouch down, but he stops me with his voice.
“No. Bend over to do it.”
Wow. A flush of wet heat gushes in my panties making them damp.
I bend down slowly making sure my legs are spread and my ass faces the camera. I slot the duster into the lower shelf and run it slowly over the books. As I come up, I run the duster up my legs and under my skirt. I hear a groan from the intercom, and I smile, knowing I'm turning this strong-voiced stranger on.
“Go and sit on the chaise longue.” His voice is croaky like he's having trouble getting the words out.
I do as instructed, sinking into the plush fabric. It caresses my skin and I can't help running a hand up my legs to the hot place between.
“Lift your skirt and don't move.”
2
Jonathan
I watch the girl, Chloe. I've been unable to take my eyes off her since she turned up at my gate looking like a lost lamb. I had to call the agency to check they'd sent someone legal. Turns out she's 18, perfect.
She's full of smiles and wonder and every good thing in this world that I'm not. It makes me want to scoop her up and protect her from this wicked world.
It also makes me want to fuck her. To take that sweet innocent mouth and wrap it around my throbbing cock.
I'm watching her sit straight and expectant on the chaise lounge, waiting for my command like a good girl. My dick twitches in my pants, wanting to be let out. I don't even know this woman, but I want to make her mine.
“Lay down,” I tell her. “And open your legs.”
I switch camera views so I'm looking down at this angel who's fallen through the gate and right into my living room. Her dark hair streams across the cushion behind her.
As she opens her pale legs, I catch a glimpse of white cotton panties. My dick's rock hard, it has been since I saw her staring up at me by the gate, her white blouse pulled tight against her straining tits. I wanted to reach down the camera and rip the buttons right off to see the flesh underneath.
Now, it aches with the want, with the need to possess her. She's trembling like a new-born lamb and I tell myself to go slow. Every part of me wants to race into the room, rip off those panties and claim my woman. But if I go down there now, she'll take one look at me and run a mile.
Instead I pull out my aching dick and run my hand down the shaft. It only makes me ache for her more.
“Touch yourself,” I tell her.
She runs a hand up her pale leg and strokes the white triangle of fabric. Her head tilts back and her lips part in a silent moan.
I silently thank myself for getting the best cameras on the market as I see the detail of the fabric dampening underneath her fingers. God damnit, I want to bury my face between her legs, breath in her scent, taste that sweet fresh pussy.
A bit of pre-cum dots the top of my dick and I rub it into the head as I watch her. My blood is racing through my veins and I push the chair back and stand up. I've put the camera on the bank of screens, and I'm surrounded by her image.
“Take you panties off.”
Slowly, she hooks her thumbs under the fabric and glides her panties down her thighs and over her knees. She looks straight down the camera as she wriggles out of them.
The control panel on my left beeps. A r
ed light starts flashing but I ignore it. Whoever's trying to get hold of me can wait.
“Bend your knees up for me, baby girl,” I tell her. “I want to see all of you.”
Like a good girl, she bends her knees, keeping her feet flat on the chaise lounge. Her legs are wide open so I can see her beautiful pink pussy. It's framed with dark hair that glistens with her juices. I long to lick it, to taste her, to make her mine. But she's probably a virgin so I won't rush this for her.
“Touch your breasts,” I tell her.
Immediately she obeys me, which is a turn on in itself. Her breasts are spilling out of her bra and she pulls the fabric down releasing the white flesh. The dark nipples spring to attention as she runs a finger over herself.
She's got one hand on her pussy and one hand pulling at a nipple. My hand's tugging at my dick and I'm close to coming but I already know it won't be enough.
The switchboard pings again and I glance over.
Fuck. It's Beijing. A message is flashing on one of the monitors. There's been a security breach in their network. Fuck. I silence the beeping and turn back to my baby girl.
“Put a finger in,” I command not bothering to hide the urgency in my voice.
She slides her middle finger into her cunt and the pink folds suck it in hungrily. The pressure builds in my cock and I match my strokes to the rhythm of her finger sliding in and out or her pussy.
I zoom in so my screens are full of her finger fucking herself. The palm of her hand is rubbing against her clit. She's swollen and wet and my god I want to sink my dick into her so badly.
