Another.
The air between us pulsed with an unnamed emotion.
And then... My fingertips brushed the soft apple of her cheek.
It was barely even a touch. But I did it. It felt like fire ran up my arm and down my body straight to the aching member between my legs, and no matter how I tried to convince myself it was a bad idea, I couldn't stop what happened next.
My free hand went straight into my loose trousers and cupped the throbbing erection.
But it wasn't enough.
Nothing but claiming her for myself would ever be enough.
So I stroked. Slowly and carefully within the confines of my sleepwear.
As I watched my pretty flower dream her dreams, I jerked my own cock, even though I could never find completion this way, thanks to the damned curse.
As the hunger in me grew, so did my confidence and boldness. Soon I wasn't content with stroking her cheek anymore, my finger trailing softly down the plump cushion of Jolie's lower lip. As I stroked along the sensitive skin, I pictured her mouth opening wide, as she tried to take my cock inside her mouth.
Dear goddess.
If the curse wasn't going to do me in, this woman was.
"Master," Jolie moaned and I jerked back in fright, my breath shuddering out of me.
I watched her for any signs that she was waking, but once snuggled back into her pillow, I took a careful step back.
What was I doing?
She could have woken up, caught meviolatingher.
I stumbled back from the bed like it burned me, vision blurring with panic and shame... and if I was being honest, a desire so sharp it was almost painful.
I had to leave. Now.
But as I slipped out of her room, silent as a shadow, one final truth cut deep.
In her sleep, she'd called out forme.
CHAPTER EIGHT
JOLIE
The hallway outside Master's chambers felt colder than the rest of the house. I pressed my palm against a shallow dent in the wooden door, and tried to slow my breathing. It didn't help. My pulse still slammed against my ribs like it wanted out.
This was only my second morning milking him. Yesterday had been all stiff and formal, both of us pretending the first time hadn't happened the way it did. Pretending I hadn't tasted him, and he hadn't looked at me like he was one second away from snapping the reins he worked so hard to keep wound so tightly around himself. Then he'd sent Beatrice with a message that he'd have to skip the evening milking because ofbusiness.
I curled my fingers in the hem of my apron. Ugh. I couldn't believe I was fidgeting like a nervous child awaiting a principal's verdict.
Reaching out, I knocked twice, quicker than I meant to.
It was answered with silence.
My stomach tightened. Maybe he wasn't in there. Maybe he'd decided I'd done something wrong or wasn't worth the trouble, or?—
"Enter." His voice slipped through the door. It was rough, gravelly and sent a shiver of pleasure down to my core just hearing it, and I had to work to keep my knees from buckling at the sound. I pushed inside before I could think my way out of it.
His chambers were dim, curtains still drawn. The faint glow from the fireplace caught the edge of his shoulders first.
