Master of the House: An older alpha male and younger female insta-love romance (Filthy Rich Love Book 1)

by Sadie King

  The beeping starts again, and I bring my fist down on the control panel. A button pops off and flies across the room, but the alarm goes silent.

  “Cum for me baby girl,” I command.

  Her pussy tightens around her finger, like she's been waiting for me to give the command to come. I let myself go. Hot cum shoots out over the screens, hitting her pussy as she writhes underneath her hand.

  I zoom the camera out so I can see her face as the orgasm runs through her. My cum drips down the screen where her breasts are. By God, I swear one day soon I will really shoot my load over those pure white breasts.

  The phones start to ring and my dick’s still throbbing when I push the mute button. I won't leave my baby girl like this.

  I watch her sit up and look around as if she's waking up from a dream.

  “You're a good girl.”

  She smiles and my heart throbs along with my dick. She sits up and reaches for her panties.

  “Leave those.”

  She does as she's told, straightening her skirt over her bare pussy.

  “I have to go.”

  She nods at me and I feel a pang at leaving her so soon. “But I'll be watching. And tomorrow I'll make you mine.”

  She nods again.

  Reluctantly, I tear myself away to go deal with a cyber security breach in Beijing.

  3

  Chloe

  I spend the rest of the day in a daze. I've never done anything like that with a man before. It feels so naughty, and so delicious and so right all at the same time.

  It's not like I've never had the opportunity. The boys who hang around the council estate, who I've grown up with, they let me know every time I walk past what they'd like to do to me. But they're just boys and I'm not interested in a quick fumble with someone I used to play hide and seek with.

  I want to give myself to a real man, a man with a deep voice like slow molasses. I've never even met the master of the house but I'm falling in love with his voice.

  I dust every room on the first-floor longing to hear him speak to me again, but the intercom remains silent. I still have the feeling of being watched and I catch the cameras following me. It makes me feel safe, protected. Knowing he's watching over me.

  I sing as I work, old show tunes from the movies I watch with mom on the telly. I feel like I'm in one of them and can't help twirling around with the duster as I sweep it over his beautiful house, which really does look just like a movie set.

  I'm disappointed when Mrs. Hughes tells me it's time to go home.

  I walk slowly down the driveway to the gate, the prickly feeling on the back of my neck tells me he's still watching. The fresh air sends a breeze up my skirt tickling my bare pussy. It feels like how I imagine his fingers would, grazing over my wet hair. I'm breathing heavily just thinking about it.

  I long for him to call me back, to make me his, to find some release for this fever he's put me in. But the gate slides silently open.

  My elation from the day subsides as I get further away from Tanner Hills and the feeling of being watched leaves as well. The sudden loneliness makes me shiver. I wrap my arms around myself. It's all I can do not to run back up the hill and throw myself on the gates. Push the intercom just to hear his voice.

  Then I think of Mom and feel guilty for stalling. She'll be needing her dinner and a bath. I push away all thoughts of the master and head for home.

  4

  Jonathan

  Watching her disappear down the street, her arms wrapped around her tiny frame makes me want to reach right into the screen and pluck her to safety. She's out there, alone, unprotected.

  Her retreating figure triggers something deep inside me. Blood pounds in my ears, my chest restricts, and I can't breathe.

  She walks out of frame and I stand up pushing the chair back so hard it hits the floor. I zoom in on the camera and swivel the head. It picks her up crossing the road at the bottom of the hill and I can breathe again.

  But two seconds later, she's gone. Fuck. My baby girl out there in the world alone where any man can lay his eyes on her.

  The thought of someone else watching her makes my blood run hot. Ever since I saw her this morning, I've known she's meant for me.

  I couldn't concentrate this afternoon trying to smooth over the Beijing security breach. I was drawn to her, flicking between screens as she dusted each room in the house.

  I stalked down to the sitting room and snatched up her panties breathing in her sweet pungent scent.

  My dick's aching to make her mine and the blood pumping through my veins is crying out to her.

  Now she's gone and I can't stand the thought of her being out there for all the world to see.

  I scan the monitors. The house feels empty without her tiny figure buzzing around the rooms. I don't have sound on my cameras, but I could tell she was singing as she worked.

  I don't even know this girl and she's got my head in a mess. Her slender arms, her look of wide-eyed wonder, the way she moves, smiling and singing and dancing. She's like a ray of fucking sunshine piercing straight through my frozen heart via my raging hard dick.

  I'll go to her, I decide. I need to see her again, to talk to her, to make her mine.

  Then I catch my reflection in a blank screen. My scars carve a chasm of darkness from my right eye down to my chin. Rough crevices of blackness in the skin.

  There was a fire. Eight years ago. A cooling system in a server room blew. Electrical fires are quick to start and hard to kill. The control room went up in flames.

  Mrs. Hughes was trapped in a room on the other side. I ran in to help her and managed to get her through to safety. But, as I was coming out some burning wiring from the ceiling fell and whipped me across the face, branding my skin forever.

  Mrs Hughes has been my devoted housekeeper ever since.

  I refused cosmetic surgery, letting the scars heal in a haphazard pattern. They're only on the right side. If you look at me on the left profile, I'm a rugged, handsome man in the prime of his life. If I turn to the right, I'm a monster. Made to scare children on Halloween.

  I've always kept to myself, more at home with binary and the languages of coding, than making small talk in polite society.

  But suddenly I was thrust into the limelight. I was the eligible bachelor freak-show. The up and coming millionaire turned monster.

  A TV station offered me a deal for a dating show where woman would try to win me over only ever seeing my good side, and my bank account. Then I would reveal myself to them at the end and see how many still wanted to marry me.

  I turned it down. I turned them all down.

  My hankering for a quiet life became more pronounced. I began to go out less and less. When I did go out, I would be walking on the street and children would start to cry, woman would cross the road. I became increasingly reclusive.

  I dedicated myself to my work. It allowed me to increase my fortune from millions to billions. Seven years ago, I bought Tanner Hills. I moved in and haven't left the gates since. I've got everything I need right here. Until now.

  I scan the monitors until I find Mrs Hughes talking to the chef in the kitchens.

  “Mrs Hughes,” I say making her jump, “Bring the car around.”

  She throws a puzzled look to the camera above the door.

  “Now,” I bark. She turns quickly and marches out of the kitchen. I pick her up on a screen heading to the garage.

  I may not have left the estate in seven years, but I keep a pristine Mercedes in the garage primed and ready.

  It's out front and waiting when I descend the steps ten minutes later. The driver holds the rear door open for me, no trace of the surprise he must be feeling at being asked to do his job for once.

  “I'll drive myself,”

  “Very good, sir.”

  It feels good to be behind the wheel again, the leather under my hands, the hum of the motor. The gates swing open and I drive over the threshold for the first time in seven years in
search of my baby girl.

  5

  Chloe

  I'm humming to myself as I come around the corner of the housing estate. The light's starting to fade, and I don't see Ryan initially.

  “What ya singing?” he asks stepping in front of me.

  The smile instantly slides of my face.

  “Let me past, Ryan,” I say, sidestepping around him.

  He shoots an arm out, blocking my way through.

  “What's a guy got to do to get some attention around here?” He pushes his freckled face right into mine and I can smell cigarettes and cheap beer.

  “Stop being an asshole for starters.”

  He's so shocked that his hand drops to his side and I slip past before he realizes I'm through. I'm usually timid and easy to bully but I'm so hyped from today I feel like I could take on anybody.

  “A potty mouth doesn't suit you Chloe.” He calls after me. But I'm already through the door and into my flat.

  “Good first day?” Mom asks, her smile a little too bright. She's in her usual spot on the sofa, propped up by pillows. Her legs resting on the coffee table. I wonder if she's moved at all since I left her eight hours ago.

  “You take your meds?” I ask checking the pill case on the coffee table. It's empty.

  “Took the last lot hours ago, love.” She checks her watch and even the small movement of lifting her arm makes her wince. “Must be time for the night-time pills,” she says hopefully.

  “Not quite yet.”

  It's another three hours before she's due to take the evening dose which will knock her out ‘till morning. I wonder how long I can distract her before the pain becomes too much.

  I start talking about my day as I make the dinner, describing the house and grounds in detail for her. She asks about the master of the house and I tell her he has a nice voice.

  The memory of it causes a flush to creep up my neck and mom raises her eyebrows at me. She may be suffering silently through the pain, but she doesn't miss a trick.

  After dinner I help her bathe and get her into bed. She's clenching her teeth at every movement and so I get the night meds even though it's thirty minutes too early. She swallows them gratefully and lies back on the pillow waiting for them to take hold. As she drifts off into a pain-free place I clean up the dishes from dinner.

  I've got my hands in a tub of soap suds washing the dishes when my neck starts to tingle. The hairs stand up and a hot sensation travels down the length of my body.

  I look up and there's a black car with tinted windows parked across the road.

  A plate slips through my hands and splashes into the sink, sending suds flying into my hair. I don't know how long the car's been there, but I know it's him.

  My body's reaction is instant. The warm tingle spreads to the place between my legs and I feel myself getting wet. My breath becomes shallow, even my nipples start to throb.

  I'm trembling so badly I drop another dish. I can't help staring at the car, willing him to come inside and claim me. But the windows remain dark and unmoving.

  Doubt starts to sneak into my mind, maybe it's not him, maybe it's just a car parked on the street. But no one owns a car that fancy in the estate. And I just know, my body knows, that it's him.

  I manage to finish the dishes without dropping anything else and before I turn out the light, I give him a little wave. Even if he doesn't want to come in, it's comforting to know he's out there, watching.

  Gentle snoring coming from mom's room lets me know she's asleep and I pad into my own room. But when I lay down, it's like a fever raging inside me.

  My body feels hot thinking about his voice telling me to do things. I turn over and try to breathe deeply but I can't calm my needy flesh.

  My hands trail over my breasts which are warm with imagined heat. The nipples harden under my fingertips and I conjure up the memory of his voice telling me to rub them. I want that voice, that mouth to wrap around my breasts.

  I wet my finger and trace circles on the hard nipples imagining it's his tongue. My other hand snakes lower to the fire between my legs. With his voice in my head I bring myself to an easy climax.

  But it's not enough. There's no relief. I know I won't feel satisfied until I can hear him again, touch him, feel him inside me.

  My body's on fire and I turn from side to side knotting myself in the sheets, unable to stay still, unable to sleep.

  I get up once in the night and the peer out the window. The car's still there. Unmoving. I watch it for a few minutes. It's calming, knowing he's inside, watching over me. My breathing starts to slow, my body relaxes. I go back to bed and finally fall sleep.

  Mom's croaky voice pulls me out of turbulent dreams. I don't know how long she's been calling my name.

  “Coming mom.”

  I shake the sleep out of my body and clamber out of bed.

  Before I head downstairs, I throw back the curtain. The car's gone.

  Disappointment hits me in the stomach and I sit back on the bed. Then mom calls again, and I race down the stairs trying to banish all thoughts of him.

  It seems to take forever getting mom dressed and fed and settled in front of the telly. She's in a chatty mood and a pang of guilt shoots through me for being so eager to get out the door.

  I'm practically skipping when I arrive in front of the gates at Tanner Hills. I push the intercom with a big stupid grin on my face. The gates swing open immediately and I get the familiar feeling he's watching me.

  Mrs Hughes greets me at the door with a warm smile.

  “The Master went out last night.” She whispers to me conspiratorially. “First time in seven years.”

  A thrill runs through me at the confirmation of what my body already knew. It was him in the car last night, watching.

  “The Master left specific instructions for you today.” She hands me the feather duster.

  “He wants you to clean the bedrooms in the eastern wing.”

  My stomach's going flippity-flip as she leads me up the grand staircase and along a corridor that seems to stretch forever. I'm sure his eyes are following me, and I can't help humming as I go.

  “Start at this end and work your way back,” she says hustling me through the last door on the left.

  I'm so impatient for her to leave that I almost push her out the door in my eagerness.

  Once she's gone. I stand in the middle of the room panting in anticipation. Waiting for him to instruct me. He doesn't disappoint.

  “Start dusting.”

  The voice is deep and commanding and my skin prickles with goose bumps at the sound of it.

  The room is decorated in yellow and gold with floral patterns on the walls and upholstery. The furniture is sparse, just a bed, a fireplace, and a dressing table. It doesn't look like anyone's slept in here for a long time, or maybe not at all.

  I'm not sure where he wants me to start so I move to the dressing table. I run the feather duster lightly over the painted wood.

  There are no sounds from the intercom, but I feel his eyes on me. Every swish of the duster sends a shock through my body as I wait for his next command.

  “The fireplace.”

  I dutifully move to the fireplace and reach up to dust the mantle. My skirt rides up my legs and the memory of yesterday sends a shiver right up my thighs.

  I'm impatient for him to talk to me, to instruct me, to demand something from me. But he leaves me to dust, working my way around the entire room until I'm squirming with anticipation.

  After what seems like an age the intercom crackles again.

  “Leave this room,” he demands “Enter the room directly across the hall and await instruction.”

  I almost run across the hall and pull open a heavy door. It opens to a room with black painted walls and thick grey carpet. A four-poster bed sits against the wall with a purple velvet throw covering the bed.

  The only light's coming from an orange lamp on the bedside table. The smell of camphor and cologne fill my nostril
s. It's a heady aroma and I close my eyes and breath it in deeply.

  This is his room, I realize, his bedroom. My knees almost buckle beneath me and I have to stop myself from sinking into the floor.

  I feel like I've passed some kind of test and I'm about to get my prize. As if on cue the intercom sparks to life.

  “Do you trust me?” the voice asks.

  I nod slowly. My eyes searching for the camera. I find it above the bed and stare straight into it.

  “Good,” he says. “Lock the door.”

  There's an iron key in the lock and I turn it until I hear the satisfying click.

  My heart races as I wait for the next instruction.

  “Take your blouse off.”

  My fingers tremble as I stumble over the buttons. My hand brushes over a nipple sending a tremor through me. The fabric slips down my arms and falls to the floor with a swish.

  “Take the bra off.”

  I unhook the back and glide the straps over my arms. My breasts fall loose, and I hear an intake of breath. There's a moment of silence.

  “You're beautiful, “he says. The voice has a croak to it and I suddenly feel so hot knowing I can make this powerful man speechless.

  “Take your skirt off.”

  I slowly undo the zipper and slide the skirt down my hips and step out of it.

  Knowing he's watching me as I strip makes my body flush with heat. I'm burning for his touch and I'm sure he must be able to see the wetness coming through my panties.

  “Now your shoes.”

  I slip out of my shoes and sink my feet into the lush carpet. My senses must be on high alert because even my toes start tingling as I wriggle them into the plush carpet.

  There are just my panties to go and then I'll be completely naked. My breathing is shallow, and I can feel my breasts moving up and down with every short breath. I want to touch them, to rub my nipples, but I dare not move without his instruction.