The door shut behind me with another soft, echoing click.
As I walked back through the quiet corridor, my heart still thundering as I thought over what happened, there was one thought I could not deny.
I couldn't wait for morning.
CHAPTER SEVEN
THE MASTER
Of all the reactions in the world, I never expected her to taste me.
It was clear she hadn't meant it as a temptation, but a temptation it remained. She was only doing what I told her to do, following my instructions with that wide-eyed innocence and earnest obedience.
And really, considering her innocence, who could blame her for tasting? She had to be curious.
But the moment her tongue peeked out of that delicious-looking mouth to lick up the nectar spilled over her hand, I felt everything inside me snap.
I'd spent years mastering control. Before my curse and then again after so I didn't lose hold of myself. Which meant years of burying every monstrous instinct beneath diligent routines and discipline.
Not to mention the years of forcing myself to remember what I was now, and what I must never allow myself to want.
But one small action by the pretty flower on her knees in front of me had me throwing all that control out of the window.
All that mattered now was her.
The sound she made as she licked it all up, went straight through me and I could feel my cock start perking up again. Even after she'd practically cleaned out my balls.
When those large, beautiful eyes stared up at me and she stammered her apology I had to push down every instinct inside me.
Every muscle in my body tightened, fighting the savage hunger that demanded I take her by the hips, pull her closer, and?—
Mine.
The word slammed into me from somewhere primal.
What the fuck was I doing?
I dismissed her as quickly as I could, my voice too rough and unsteady. She obeyed without question, gathering herself and leaving the chamber with one last uncertain glance over her shoulder.
The door closed.
And I hated myself.
I hated the way my body still trembled, my blood boiled, and my cock ached for more of her.
With a growl, I stormed back to my room, annoyed at myself and her for putting me in this predicament.
Ineededher to stay sane. To keep my curse at bay.
But I wanted her. Her innocence. Her beauty. Her goodness.
And if there was anything I'd learnt in my life since being cursed, I could never—not ever—have my cakeandeat it too.
I triedto sleep that night. Tried to focus on anything but her.
Normally, on the first night after a new maid started with me I would sleep like a baby. Not so much sated from the pleasure but more calm from the voices in my head finally being quiet again.
But that night was different. The memory of her kept playing in my head on a loop. I could picture it. But in my head the memory changed... morphed into something more.
