Her Master's Servant (Lord and Master Book 2)
Page 24
Once back down on the pavement outside, Luna legged it as fast as her five-inch heels and three gimlets’ worth of alcohol allowed. Arriving at the hotel, she quickly explained to the nice-smelling man on the front desk that she’d given her only key to her boyfriend, and waited for him to code another one for her, looking around with approval at the candlelit reception area.
Duplicate key obtained, she climbed the stairs to the second floor two at a time, running down the hall and into her room. She quickly removed her dress and sandals, approaching the standing mirror in the corner, reapplying her lipstick and studying her figure in the blood red velvet and lace underwear she’d bought earlier that week from the lingerie shop in Lerwick, where they must now be assuming she belonged to a sex club.
She ran to the tub, placing the candles strategically around it, experiencing a moment’s panic when she remembered she didn’t have any matches. But the man on reception had anticipated her every need, leaving a pack on the table beside the jasmine plant.
Candles lit, bath running, accessories laid out on the bed, perfume reapplied… only then did Luna consider where she should position herself for Stefan’s arrival. On the bed? No, too obvious. Kneeling beside the tub? No, too submissive. In a chair, reading the complimentary in-house magazine? She snorted with laughter; really, she was useless at this whole seduction malarkey.
There was a quiet knock and Luna jumped – it hadn’t occurred to her that Stefan would do the polite thing. She steeled herself, picking up one of her accessories from atop the bed and going to the door. As Stefan entered, she stepped back and stood stock still, hands behind her back, allowing him to take in the image of the room and of her.
‘Did you mean what you said back there?’ she said eventually, walking toward him, watching his eyes drink her in. ‘About being willing to do anything?’ She came within millimetres of his chest, then glided left, circling around him. ‘Or were you just talking the talk. Entertaining our bartender.’
‘I meant it,’ he said. ‘Did you?’
In response, Luna swiftly stood on her toes and lifted her hands over his head, pulling a long, soft band of leather across his eyes and tying it off against the back of his scalp. Coming to stand in front of him, she ran her fingers over the strip of leather, assuring herself that it made an effective blindfold. Then raised her mouth to his ear.
‘No talking,’ she whispered. ‘That’s my only rule.’ And circled back behind him, raising her hands to his jacket lapels, removing it, throwing it on one of the armchairs. And slowly unbuttoning his shirt, reaching inside to run her palms along his beautiful pectoral muscles and perfect biceps. Pressing her lace-and-velvet-clad breasts into his back, she snaked her hands around his waist, undoing his belt.
When he stood naked before her, she placed his hand on her shoulder and led him to the bath, helping him in, blood red lips hovering over his as he sank into the water. She washed him… thoroughly, starting with his feet, moving up his legs, getting very thorough indeed after that and rewarded with visible evidence of how much he appreciated her attention to detail. By the time she finished washing him, kneeling behind him with one hand holding his chin and the other rubbing a sponge along his chest, Stefan was sighing and stretching in the tub, hips flexing under the water.
Leaving him to soak for a moment, Luna laid out a towel on the bed and studied the rest of her accessories, five thin lengths of soft, pliable leather. Asking herself if she really had this in her. She was… well, she was not Stefan, she knew that.
His voice replayed in her head. I meant it. Did you?
After drying him off, she led him to the bed and laid him on his stomach. One by one, she tied his wrists and ankles to the bed, testing the loops around his wrists to ensure they weren’t cutting off his circulation. Gratified and increasingly aroused that he accepted all this unquestioningly, clearly intrigued as to what she would do next.
One of the complimentary products in the room was a small bottle of oil that smelled like geraniums and bergamot. Luna poured a small amount onto his shoulders and silently began working on them. She took her time, moving to his neck before honing in on a small knot of tension between his shoulder blades. At first she knelt beside him, but as she got to the base of his spine she straddled his waist, digging her fingers into him, watching the play of light along his glistening back muscles.
When eventually he made a low noise of gratification and his hips began to rise and fall under her, she knelt between his knees, massaging his perfectly formed buttocks, delving between them and massaging there too till he was arching under her hands and the leather at his wrists and ankles stretched taut against the spindles of the bed. She reached back and untied his ankles then, urging him onto his knees while his head remained on the pillow, hands tied to the bed rails.
Pouring the last of the oil into her hand, she let it warm in her palm, then reached underneath him, finding the head of his cock and slowly, slowly lubricating his entire length. She brought her other hand down to assist, alternately squeezing and stroking and teasing him, listening to his breathing becoming laboured, watching the sinews in his thighs flex, feeling his balls begin to tighten under her ministrations.
Luna was kneeling behind him now, the soles of his feet bookending her. She bent her head down to his ass, kissing first one cheek, then the other, then slowly sliding her mouth to the top of his cleft, hands still working along his shaft.
He tensed then, and she heard the sound of the leather straps at his wrists stretching.
‘Luna—’ he warned.
Her hands immediately stilled and she rocked back on her heels. ‘One rule, I gave you,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘One rule.’ With that, she reached for the fifth and final leather strap.
‘Yes, but Lu—’ Stefan began, only for her to quickly drag the strap across his mouth, between his teeth, pulling it tight, tying it off behind his head. Cut off mid-protest, he made of noise of frank surprise, tilting his head to one side, revealing his gagged profile. And Luna waited, waited for a cue from him as to what would happen next, whether he would allow her to continue. After some seconds, he lowered his forehead back onto the pillow, and she had her answer.
‘Now,’ she said, ‘where was I?’
She returned her hands to his cock, and lowered her mouth to his ass again. Kissing the top of his cleft, moving lower, and inserting her tongue. Commencing to lick him, adulating him with her mouth even as her hands worshipped his hard, straining cock. Tasting geraniums and bergamot and… him.
He began to whimper, a sound she had never heard from him before, and Luna’s sex ached and throbbed in sympathy. His stomach muscles tightened, his balls drew up till they practically disappeared. Seconds later his body began to jerk, and she felt his come coursing up through his shaft as he cried out helplessly against his gag.
Showing him the same courtesy he’d shown her the first time he tied her to a bed, Luna immediately set about untying the bindings at Stefan’s wrists, then removed his gag, and finally the strip of leather over his eyes. As he rolled onto his side, gasping for breath, she went to the bathroom and washed her hands, then returned to the bedroom, putting on her dress and sitting down on one of the armchairs to pull on her sandals.
Last, she gathered all her leather straps, as well as all the complimentary products she hadn’t gotten around to using, and loaded them into her backpack.
‘The room is paid for,’ she said as she opened the door. ‘Stay as long as you like.’
He arrived home two hours later to find Luna sitting, legs crossed, on the bright red sofa in the living room wearing a pair of his sweatpants and one of his t-shirts, her hair in a braid over one shoulder, face devoid of make-up and body still warm from the shower.
Stefan came in and sat down in one of the armchairs opposite the sofa, throwing his keys on the maple table. He said nothing, staring at her with something between astonishment and consternation.
‘Problem?’ Luna said at length.
; Stefan opened his mouth, but couldn’t seem to find any words.
‘Only,’ she continued, ‘it seemed like you enjoyed it.’ Her lips curved and she lifted her eyebrows. ‘Admittedly, it’s hard to tell when a man has a gag in his mouth.’
‘I enjoyed it,’ he confirmed after some seconds. ‘Very much.’
‘That’s good to hear,’ Luna said, uncrossing her legs and stretching them on the couch. ‘Because, I have to tell you, I found it extremely arousing, doing that to you. So much so that I remain extremely aroused, two hours later.’ Stefan’s eyes widened at this news and he sat up in his chair. ‘So if you’ve gotten over your scruples at being bound and gagged and… abused by your girlfriend,’ Luna went on as he got to his feet and headed toward her, ‘I’d appreciate it if you got down to doing your duty.’
Needing no further instruction, Stefan knelt on the floor in front of her, abruptly pulling down the sweatpants and opened her legs, pushing them wide and butting his nose and mouth into her apex, sucking her in, devouring her. Within seconds she was gasping, moaning, her swollen clitoris yearning into the punishment he was meting out. She placed her hand on his nape, curled her fingers in his hair, and arched her back atop the sofa, crying out for him just as he had for her.
And then he was on his back on the sky blue rug, and she was on top of him, loosening his belt, releasing his ready cock from his trousers. Mounting him and riding him hard until he came, his body jutting and writhing beneath her.
They lay together for some minutes, panting next to each other. ‘Never again,’ Stefan said eventually, ‘do I want to hear the “oh, Stefan, you are so much more sexually experienced than me” speech.’
To which Luna grinned and said, ‘Happy birthday to you.’ And laughed, long and hard.
Much later, when they were in his bed staring at each other, Stefan’s hand twined in her braid, he said, ‘There’s something I need to talk to you about, flicka.’ Before she could tense up, he hurried on, ‘It’s nothing bad, I promise. I just wonder if you and I could… spend some time at Arborage. Maybe next weekend, or when you first move down here.’
Luna was silent, and he went on, ‘I need to know if you can be happy there. John is coming home next week, but… he won’t recover, Luna, and soon I’ll need to make a choice. If you won’t be happy at Arborage, I’ll tell Augusta I’m out, and she can move on to Crispin, in Peebles.’ Formerly the fifth in line to the estate, but now second after Stefan.
Luna nodded. ‘Okay. Let’s spend some time there.’ Resting her hand on his chest, she said, ‘There’s something I need to tell you, too. I met with a recruitment agent yesterday and she’s shortlisted me for a job working for an aerospace company in Toulouse.’
‘Toulouse… France.’
‘Yes,’ Luna said, adding hastily, ‘I’m not even sure if I’m interested. It’s a company that works with counterparts in Britain, so they want someone bilingual. And it’d be more than just PA work. The pay is good and it would be a step up for me.’
He nodded, but didn’t speak. ‘I have to work, Stefan,’ Luna said, moving her hand to his neck. ‘I’ve worked ever since I was sixteen. I can’t move down here and just… scrounge off of you.’
‘As if you would ever do that.’
‘Like I say, I don’t even know if I want this job, or if they’d want me. I’ve told the recruitment agent I could only commit to being in Toulouse four days a week, so that might kill it. She’s coming back to me next week—’
‘We’ll make it work,’ he said quickly. And when she blinked in surprise he said, ‘If you decide it’s what you want, we’ll find a way to make it work.’
*
‘Jag arbetar. Jag arbetade. Jag ska arbeta…’
Luna was working on her Swedish tenses, sitting cross-legged on her bed. Within sight now of the end of her assignment on Shetland, she had time for a bit of study.
Time too, for other distractions. From being the man who never phoned, over the days that followed his birthday weekend Stefan unexpectedly morphed into the boyfriend who phoned all the time; to ask her a question, or share a work anecdote, or just to chat. Perhaps entirely for her benefit, though Luna began to feel that he derived as much comfort from hearing her voice as she did his.
He’d had a busy week, starting with a flying visit from his mother, Karoline. ‘She tells me there is a new man in her life,’ he revealed, sounding a little war weary.
‘Well, that’s good, isn’t it?’ Luna enquired carefully, still unsure what tack to take when discussing his mother with him.
‘It’s good if it’s true. Good for her, good for me, great for my father.’ His parents’ acrimonious divorce more than a decade previously continued to be a source of bitter resentment for his mother, who took every opportunity to make life difficult for Sören and his partner, Christian. Stefan went on, ‘But there have been many false dawns when it comes to my mother’s love life. She is saying, by the way, that she wants to meet you.’
‘Right.’
‘Don’t worry, flicka,’ he laughed. ‘What my mother says and what she does are two different things. She’s off to the Côte d’Azur on holiday now, so I think we can avoid this for a while longer.’
And just yesterday, after weeks of intense preparation, the Marquess had finally returned home from hospital, transported up to the family’s private quarters by Stefan and a small army of security guards. Stefan phoned her from his bedroom late that night, speaking in hushed tones. ‘The first thing he did was ask me to go buy him cigarettes,’ he relayed, to appalled laughter from Luna.
Almost finished with today’s Swedish lesson, Luna stretched her arms up toward the open skylight and contemplated going downstairs for a cup of coffee and a toasted crumpet. Her phone vibrated atop the bed and she smiled, answering astringently, ‘Tyvärr, jag arbetar nu.’
‘Luna,’ Stefan said, his tone immediately wiping the smile off her face. ‘John died in his sleep last night.’
PART 2 – BERKSHIRE
Chapter Nineteen
‘I’ve been preparing for this for months now,’ a clearly shaken Caitlin said as she hugged Luna at the staff entrance later that afternoon, Luna having caught the earliest available flight to Heathrow. ‘I suppose part of me thought the old man would beat it, somehow.’ Walking through the basement toward Arborage’s east wing, the press officer explained that she’d spent much of the day with Stefan and the family, and needed to get back to them as quickly as possible.
‘But I’ve got one assistant on holiday and the other off sick. The phone keeps ringing, and I have press packs to get out…’
Luna twisted her fingers together, considering her next words, then said tentatively, ‘Look, Caitlin, would you trust me to help you?’
Caitlin stopped, turning to face her. ‘Are you joking?’ her blond friend exclaimed, reaching out to grip Luna’s hand. ‘I’d love your help.’
Within no time Luna was installed in the press office with Caitlin’s work mobile, her laptop and a two-page to-do list in front of her. As her friend hovered near the door, holding up her personal phone and exhorting Luna to text if she needed anything, the work mobile rang and Luna answered, ‘Caitlin Murray’s phone.’ And waved Caitlin away.
Four hours later, Caitlin reappeared at the door just as Luna was finishing a call with the obituary desk at The Guardian. Holding up her to-do list, Luna began, ‘Don’t worry, this is all in hand,’ when she saw that Caitlin wasn’t alone. Standing behind her was Sören, dressed in a black suit with a black band on his left arm.
‘Luna,’ he said sombrely as she rose from her chair. ‘Caitlin told me you were helping her and I’m afraid I’ve come to ask for more help.’ Gesturing for her to sit back down, he perched on the edge of the desk beside her and said, ‘It has become clear to me since I arrived this morning that we are in danger of the funeral descending into disorganised chaos. I don’t have confidence that the Events staff are on top of it, so I am going to take charge.’
‘Will you help me, Luna? Will you be my PA?’
*
Luna checked into her hotel at just after midnight, promptly going up to her room and logging on to her reactivated Arborage account. After sending a brief email to Emma in Events, who she understood had gone home in tears earlier that night, she began typing up her rapidly expanding to-do list. She was almost finished when Stefan rang.
‘Where are you?’ he demanded.
‘At the Lion’s Head. Are you alright?’
Ignoring her question, he said impatiently, ‘Why are you there?’
‘I…’
‘You should be here, with me.’
‘Stefan,’ Luna said firmly. ‘I can’t do that. Arborage is Augusta’s home. I can’t invite myself into the family’s private quarters at a time like this.’
He made an inarticulate noise and she could feel him preparing to give her an argument, so she added bluntly, ‘I will not do it.’ Waiting for him to respond, she heard only silence. ‘Stefan?’ She looked at her phone and realised they’d been cut off.
Having eaten nothing since breakfast, she called down to room service and ordered a plate of pasta and a glass of wine, then changed into a pair of leggings and one of Stefan’s jumpers. She was flicking through news coverage of the Marquess’s death on her tablet when there was a knock on the door. Stomach growling, she opened it and was immediately swept up into Stefan’s arms.
‘Hi,’ she said, kissing his jaw. Still holding tight to her, he squatted briefly and threw his duffle bag into the room.
‘I don’t want to talk,’ he said into her neck.
So she phoned down to room service and made it two plates of pasta and a bottle of wine, then sat up against the pillows on the bed with Stefan resting against her. Neither of them talking, her stroking his hair and rubbing his shoulders.