Page 5 of Their Master

You’re just jealous because Leo is prettier than you.

Moira couldn’t argue with that; Leo was exquisite, petite, and as perfectly sculpted as a classical statue.

The evening had been odd, to say the least.

Instead of whipping her as Smith had suggested the first time they’d been together, he’d tied up Leo and made her watch.

Moira had to admit that Smith knew his way around a flogger. Most clients either got carried away or were too scared to use the necessary force.

Not Smith.

He’d had Moira strip Leo and then tie a leather thong around his cock and balls to prevent ejaculation. It was an attractive look on Leo’s disproportionately large cock. For a man who was not much taller than Moira, the small blond was well-endowed, and he made sure everyone knew it.

Moira’s job that night had been to service Leo—first while he’d endured his whipping and later while he’d enjoyed his fucking. She was skilled at fellatio, but even she had neared her limit, sucking and swallowing Leo until her throat was bruised and her jaw felt ready to unhinge.

Smith had been hard and leaking almost from the first blow—a sight that had kept Moira slick with arousal, aching jaw notwithstanding. His body really was a masterpiece and he’d been the very image of an angry god punishing a disobedient mortal.

He’d employed a soft flogger, taking a good quarter of an hour to warm up Leo’s back, working his pale skin to a sweaty, rosy hue. Smith had become sheened with sweat from exertion but his breathing had remained normal as he’d brought Leo to the brink of orgasm again and again and again—until the younger man had sobbed and begged.

The more he’d pleaded, the more Smith’s eyes had burned with unholy glee, his arm swinging faster, the strokes harder.

After what felt like years to Moira and must have felt like decades to Leo, Smith threw aside the whip and mounted Leo’s spread, bound body and proceeded to fuck him with the same thoroughness and ferocity as he’d whipped him. He’d ridden Leo to the brink of pleasure over and over, denying him his climax each time.

Really, the man was obsessed with controlling his lovers’ orgasms—obsessed with control, full stop.

As annoying as Leo was, he had a lovely prick and was a joy to service—especially with Smith’s hot eyes on her all night. And that was no exaggeration; Smith’s eyes had flogged Moira as pitilessly as his arm had worked the whip.

Eventually, Smith had climaxed, so had Leo, but Moira had been left swollen and wanting. To add to her confusion, Smith had then sentheraway and kept Leo with him, even though he’d paid for both their services all night.

Smith’s behavior made no sense to her.

Was he tired of her already? Would she be forced to return to Marie and theComtede Blois—Moira’s intimidating father—with her tail between her legs? What had changed? Why didn’t Smith want her?

To make matters even more annoying, Moira had tossed and turned in her narrow bed after Smith had sent her away. Finally, after hours, she’d given into her body’s demands and had frigged herself. Twice. The image she’d pleasured herself to—both times—had been Smith.

That’s not good, Moira, Marie’s harsh voice chided.

No, it wasn’tgood.

But…

Wasn’t it to be expected that she was obsessed with the man who was the object of her life?

At least that was the excuse she was clinging to.

Although Smith had come back three nights after the episode with Leo, he’d looked right through Moira and chosen two men.

A few nights after that he’d done the same thing again, and then again.

That would have been bad enough, but the next time he’d returned he’d chosen Moira’s hateful roommate—Julia.

Julia must have pleased him because he took her on his subsequent two visits.

Moira told herself she was in agony because her family had put their trust in her and she was failing.

But that was a lie.

The truth was that it hurt to think that such a vibrant, fascinating man had already tired of her.

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