Page 38 of Their Master

Luke couldn’t tell if it was sadness that flashed across the other man’s face. But at least he wasn’t angry at Luke for prying.

A child! There would be a child in the house!

He couldn’t help grinning. A child was, in Luke’s opinion, exactly what the master needed. Nobody should live without family and he’d not seen a single relative in the time he’d lived under Mr. Smith’s roof. He needed family.

“You look very pleased,” Smith said.

“Oh yes, sir. I’m thrilled. I adore children. They give life… meaning.”

He wasn’t nearly so delighted by the prospect of another lover moving into the house, but he already shared Smith, so that was nothing new.

He was also relieved that Mr. Smith wasn’t replacing him because he was deficient in any way. He had a perfectly acceptable reason for setting Luke aside: children. If Luke were a wealthy, powerful man he might do the same thing.

“Any other questions?” Smith asked.

Luke had dozens, but they weren’t the sort that his master was likely to tolerate.

So, instead, he said, “No, sir.”

“Good. Now, let me show you a small token of my appreciation.”

“Appreciation?”

“For being so amenable.”

Luke had no response for that—why wouldn’t he be amenable? He was a servant.

But it seemed Mr. Smith didn’t need any response because he rolled onto his hands and knees and then backed down the bed. “Spread your legs for me.

The muscles in Luke’s thighs twitched and jumped as he hastened to obey, but his mind became snagged on an unpleasant thought: would this be the last time he’d be the recipient of such a gift? What if this woman was as possessive as Charles had been? Would Smith put him aside as he had done before—to avoid causing conflict?

Smith’s strong fist tightened around Luke’s cock, putting a stop to the questions and concerns swirling in his head. “You really do have a lovely prick, Luke. Let’s see if I can take all of you today.”

Luke bit back a gasp of pleasure as the man he loved attempted to take him to the root.

One last worry gnawed at the edge of his bliss, like a rat taking a bite from a chunk of cheese.

Should Luke have saidnoto his master’s request to act as servant to his new lover? After all, as much as he reveled in humiliation, would it be too painful to sit by while the man he loved took another? Had he made a terrible mistake? Should he—

Mr. Smith swallowed and his throat squeezed Luke’s thick shaft like a hot silk sheath.

Luke cried out and lifted his hips, fucking into him even deeper, all his worries dissipating like fog on a hot, sunny day.

Chapter 10

The seven days between Smith’s visit and Moira’s journey to his house passed even more slowly than the nightmarish days she’d spent half-delirious with pain after Mr. Brown’s beating.

All her life, Moira had worked—even when she’d gone away to school it had not been for pleasure, it had been to study and learn the skills, manners, and graces necessary for a successful demimondaine.

She’d left school at seventeen and spent a grueling year under Marie’s tutelage learning the practical skills necessary. And then, immediately upon turning eighteen—just like her siblings, her mother, her grandmother, and great-grandmother before her—she’d accepted her first protector, Oliver Linville.

Oliver was the heir to an ancient title and significant fortune. He’d been seventeen, a year younger than Moira, when they’d begun their association. Like so many of his class, Oliver’s father had provided his son with a professional lover, hoping to avoid the rapacious women who often lay in wait for wealthy, immature young men.

Although they’d been close in age, they’d been leagues apart in experience. While privileged, arrogant Oliver had gained his meager sexual experience from servants—likely unwilling ones—on his father’s vast country estate, Moira had learned her trade at the knee of a master of the seductive arts—or a mistress, she supposed was more accurate: her own mother.

Maison Bardot did not broker virgins; it provided attractive, well-spoken companions who’d been rigorously trained to provide sexual satisfaction to even the most jaded palate. Not that Oliver had been jaded at that point.

No, that hadn’t happened until almost two years had passed.

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