“Oh God, oh God, oh God,” Becca breathed, collapsing down onto Daphne’s chest, still shuddering – revealing Richard standing not six feet away, in his robe again, standing over them, watching them with glittering eyes, a cigar in one hand, a snifter of brandy in the other.
“How long have you been there?” Daphne said, trying to get her elbows underneath her.
Becca looked over her shoulder to see him, and then returned her attention to Daphne, moving back to all fours to crouch over her again. “Let him watch.”
Before Daphne could protest, Becca’s fingers were sliding back inside and the other woman’s mouth was on her breast. She didn’t want to come, not by Becca’s hand in front of Richard like this, but her body needed this, it wanted it, and the monster the Master had made of her craved it – Becca started pulling her nipple in and sucking on it while below her fingers alternated between fucking her and rubbing on her clit, And her voice rose like she wasn’t in control of it, an otherworldly cry, louder than the sound of the thunder and the rain – Becca wasn’t going to stop until she’d pulled an orgasm out of her and Daphne had one waiting, close, so close – Daphne shouted incoherently, up on her toes, the muscles of her pelvis taut, trying to pull Becca further in.
Becca’s last movement – fingers, thumb, tongue – released her. Daphne curved up, body in turns rigid and loose, as the orgasm flowed through her like a wave of the thunder that echoed outdoors.
Richard sat down on the head of the broad couch, and pet her hair, as she gasped for breath. Why was she so easy to own whenever, wherever, sex was concerned?
“And that’s why people want to fuck you, pet,” he whispered, almost to himself.
Chapter Twenty-five
Becca collapsed on top of her, their legs tangled, breasts to chests and arms, and Daphne held her because she didn’t know what else to do. Richard continued to pet her hair, in silent contemplation.
“We still have to leave here.”
“Now that all the cats are out of the bag – and have been fucking in my library – why should we?”
Becca chuckled, Daphne felt it even if she didn’t hear it.
“Because it’s dangerous here. I can’t explain why, it just is. We need to start over, somewhere else.”
“Pet, the power flickered on long enough for me to check the internet. Becca’s right, the roads are drenched, and the airport’s been shut down.” He stroked a thumb along her forehead. “When the storm’s over -- tomorrow.” He lifted the snifter up to his lips and took a sip. “Let’s give this place just one more day.”
What next? How could she get them to leave now? She could hardly convince either of them of there being a ghost now, not after she and Becca had fucked. She inhaled to try again regardless, but Richard moved his hand to cover her mouth. She let her mouth close and sagged back into the couch, as his fingers traced lines over her face, following her cheekbones gently, the shells of her ears, tugging on her earlobes, the line of her jaw, and then to brush his forefinger against her lips, like he was putting lipstick on her. She was quiet under his ministrations, relaxing – somehow, being in here with the two of them at least felt safe – and then he pressed his finger into her mouth.
She looked up, and saw him looking down, eyes glittering. He started fucking her mouth with his finger – just like he was hoping she would soon blow him.
Sex was safer than words were – and if they were together again, she still might be able to convince him to go – he pushed his finger in and out and she sucked on it, hard enough to make him go slower. He set the snifter down on the couch’s wide arm, giving his full attention to her.
She reached her hand that was around Becca back to touch his chest, and felt him purr. Becca raised her head, looked at him, and then again at Daphne, as if for permission. Daphne didn’t say yes…or no. And so Becca reached out and put her hand on Richard’s thigh.
Richard stilled at this, his finger deep in Daphne’s mouth. She knew what he was thinking -- he didn’t want to get into trouble, but he could hardly not take the chance to fuck both of them at the same time. Daphne bit his finger lightly to break his thoughts, and he started to free himself, pulling it out and pushing back.
“I’m sorry –“ he apologized, even though this time, for possibly the first time in his entire life, he had nothing to be sorry for.
“When was the last time you saw her?” Daphne shifted to be out from underneath the other woman.
“Four months,” he answered quickly.
She looked to Becca and the other woman nodded.
“You’ve been without this that whole time?” Daphne asked, folding Richard’s robe back, exposing his erection.
Becca nodded, hesitantly. Daphne reached forward and caught her hand into Becca’s hair again and the other woman sagged like a kitten caught by the nape.
Daphne raised Becca up and moved her over, so that her mouth hovered above the head of Richard’s cock.
Both she and Richard were tense. Was Daphne rubbing their faces in things, like they were bad dogs? Or was she going to set them free?
“I want to watch you suck him.”
Becca’s eyes darted at Daphne, not believing what she’d heard. But her mouth opened and her head bobbed and she took Richard’s cock inside her mouth, and Richard made a quiet strangled sound.
Daphne watched him closely, as he closed his lips and looked tormented, not sure if he should enjoy himself or not, unable to lose himself in the moment, while Becca’s lips worked at him – not until Daphne reached over and untied his robe’s belt and started kissing down. Then he finally allowed himself to gasp and groan.
The women worked on him together and apart.
Chapter Twenty-six
As long as she had Richard’s cock, as long as he came inside of her – it didn’t matter what else happened.
Richard was on the ground now and Daphne was astride him, mirrored by Becca, who was riding his mouth. Daphne fucked him furiously, trying to guarantee her fate – she bent over, her chest to his, as his hips pushed up into hers – and Becca reached over her and slapped her ass.
Daphne cried out as the pain reverberated through her – and felt her pussy shake and tense.
“Again –“ she panted, and Becca took aim with her arm for the other side.
She was still fucking Richard, she was still being fucked, and the blows were like pouring gasoline on a fire. She rode him, impossibly hard, feeling him tense at the onslaught, until she came with a wild cry, just after Becca’s last slap.
Richard made a roaring sound up into Becca’s pussy, as his hips beat against hers, and she knew he was shoving his cum deep.
“Don’t stop – just like that –“ Becca begged, thrashing against Richard’s mouth, rubbing her pussy down, until she came with a long whine. Both the women dismounted him and carefully fell to the ground.
Together the three of them lay there for quite some time. Daphne couldn’t tell what time it was anymore, the sun was falling into dusk through rainclouds. Richard disengaged himself first to pull his robe back on and put more logs on the fire beneath the Master’s portrait. Daphne stared up at it, knowing that he’d seen everything, looking down at them over his snifter, while holding his crop – she glanced over to where Richard had left his snifter on the couch.
“No,” she whispered.
“Pet?” Richard asked, looking over at her in concern.
Daphne shook her head.
Just one night. Just one night. All she had to do to get what she wanted was spend one more night. Daphne repeated the phrase to herself like a mantra.
She made them both come with her into the kitchen to get things to eat for dinner, and then took them back to the library, everyone wildly half-dressed, to eat their plates of fruits, meats, and cheese, and was relieved when Richard switched himself back to wine.
“Now what?” Becca asked. Sleeping with the both of them had subtly changed her position with them.
“We wa
it out the storm,” Richard said.
“And then?” she asked.
“We leave here. We can sort everything else out later.”
Becca looked between them, hopeful. “How are we going to pass the time until then?”
Richard broke into a sly grin. “I think Daphne has a ghost story to tell us.”
Daphne made a face and tucked up her knees.
“You said this place was haunted, pet. Tell me why,” he pressed. She was quiet and he looked at Becca. “A girl died here, you know. She died outside, near the stable, but close enough.”
“That’s awful -- what happened?”
“The real estate agent wouldn’t tell me the whole story. Something about her living here happily for many years, and then suddenly wanting to go…it was like the house wouldn’t let her leave. Like it would miss her once she was gone.”
“Why would anyone ever want to leave here?” Becca asked, looking around the grandiose room.
“Precisely. Why?” Richard smiled at her.
“Because –“ Daphne began, screwing up her courage. “What if there were a mean ghost here? One that took advantage of women? And he was tormenting that girl, so much so that she had to leave? And when she did, he couldn’t handle it and killed her?”
Richard made a contemplative sound. “What if he loved the girl? What if he needed the girl around his cock? What if he wanted to give the girl everything she ever wanted, and take care of all her needs, for the rest of the girl’s life?”
Daphne’s eyes narrowed and her pulse quickened. That didn’t sound like Richard to her –
“What if he gave her things no one else could? What if he only fucked her because she wanted it? Because she begged him for it, with her ass hitched high?”
“Richard –“
“Say you wanted it, Daphne. Say you needed it all those fucking times,” he said, emphasizing the word fucking.
“Stop!” Without thinking, she slapped Richard’s face.
Becca caught her hand before she could hit him again, and Richard’s hand came up to cup his face, where a handprint was welting.
“What the fuck, Daphne –“ he said with his own voice, sounding annoyed.
She yanked her arm back from Becca. “You weren’t you -- you were being cruel.”
“If I was, it was only because you made me,” Richard said, voice half a growl.
Daphne scooted back, with a frown.
Chapter Twenty-seven
Daphne made Becca come with her upstairs to retrieve enough bedding before the sun went down, so that they could all sleep in front of the warmth and light of the fire.
“This place is really kind of creepy,” Becca agreed, after the impromptu tour.
Daphne turned to face her. “You have no idea.”
Talking was too dangerous, so no one did. They all lay down, Richard between the two women, both of them snuggled up on either side. Daphne didn’t think she’d be able to sleep the whole night. The Master was getting bolder – and what if the storm didn’t break?
Her concentration was broken by the sound of Becca’s contented snores, and she snorted. So did Richard.
She rolled up onto her elbows and looked down at her husband. “What’ve you gotten us into?”
He shook his head. “I don’t even know anymore.” His eyes rose up to look at the wall behind her. “Hang on.”
He disengaged himself gently from Becca, and Daphne moved out of his way as he stood. He walked over to the portrait and Daphne bit her lips as he took hold of it – and started prying it up off the wall.
It fought him – ages of dust probably gluing it down – but he lifted it away and up off of the hook behind it. There was a terrible stain on the wall behind it, where the paint had rippled because of something – water? What? – underneath, and a pervasive musty odor. Richard swung it out and turned it, setting it down so that they could see the back of it, and all the Master could see was books.
“Thank you,” Daphne whispered to him.
“The only reason it stayed up there was because you liked it. But I didn’t want him staring down at us tonight.”
“Me either.”
Without the portrait staring down, the mood lifted. Daphne looked around at their situation – it was like they were attending a particularly ridiculous slumber party, and she bit back a smile.
“There’s my pet,” Richard said, settling in on her far side, raising himself up with one arm. Daphne turned towards him.
“It’s you, isn’t it?” she asked, looking deep into his eyes.
“Who else would it be?”
She swallowed, not wanting to answer him.
He reached out and put a hand on her waist. She was wearing the rumpled clothing she’d put on this morning while packing – she hadn’t gone back upstairs yet, been too scared to go by herself.
Thunder boomed, making the windows rattle. “I don’t think your tests are going to be delivered today,” Richard said.
Daphne shrugged. “That’s okay.”
“You haven’t…given up on me, have you?”
Daphne looked up at him, confused.
“You still want a child with me? When you know I’ve screwed up?”
Daphne licked her lips in thought, then nodded. “Yes.”
Richard’s countenance changed, she could almost see his whole body sag. “Good.” He smiled, pleased as punch, and rocked himself near her, pushing her down and pulling her close.
A moment later, Daphne gathered his intent -- “But –“ she cast a glance back at Becca.
“But what? You’re my wife.” He settled himself inside her. “She’s fun – but this is why you’ll always be my only,” he said, groaning quietly with his first thrust.
“Just me?”
“Just you, pet.”
Their sex was furtive, like high schoolers worried about getting caught, seeking solace instead of satisfaction. But when he was in her, and he was himself, Daphne felt like a weight was lifted, and that there was finally a light at the end of her very long tunnel. They could leave here tomorrow, drive away, drop Becca off or take her with them, she honestly didn’t care anymore, as long as they had each other and they were not here, they had the rest of their lives to figure everything out.
They were both trying to be quiet -- despite the martial rights they had with one another, oddly neither wanted to be rude. Her hands clawed into his shoulders as she hissed her orgasm out, and seconds later she was filled with his cum for the second time that night. He lay on top of her, as if staking a flag on a new mountain, claiming all the space she occupied for him.
“We fit so perfectly,” he whispered in wonder, before falling to one side.
Daphne fell asleep feeling safe in Richard’s arms – and because of that, she was surprised when she woke up alone.
“Richard?” The fire was low, and the rain was over, the only illumination was moonlight trickling in from the high windows above – and Becca was nowhere to be seen, either. “Becca?”
She stood up. Why was she alone? And…unmolested? “Richard!” She shouted his name at the top of her lungs, listened hard for a response and heard the sound of a distant smack. “Richard?”
Another blow. Daphne’s breath caught in her throat, and she ran upstairs to the old four-poster bed.
“Richard! Becca!” she shouted, her voice raw with terror. She reached the upper hallway and then heard the sound of blows, louder and more frequent.
Daphne drew up to a stop in the hallway, looking into the room. There were no curtains and the moon was on this side of the house, letting bright-white light in, casting an otherworldly glow over both of their bodies. Becca was crouched on the bed, tied to the two posters nearest Daphne, her ass in the air on her knees, with Richard standing behind her, head bowed in concentration, the crop she’d rescued from the stable in one raised hand.
Becca looked up, gasped in shock at seeing Daphne there, but Richard didn’t stop his blow.
�
�Richard – don’t!”
He looked up and over at her. His face changed, emotions cast over it, twisting it strangely, making it look like it belonged to someone else.
“Oh no.” Daphne put a hand to her mouth and pulled back into the darker hallway.
“Daphne – wait –“ Richard said, his voice not his own, like he couldn’t use his lips. She watched him take two steps and he was awkward like an automaton, like someone who didn’t remember how to walk inside a body. “Stop!” he shouted after her, his voice deeper and laced with gravel.
Daphne whirled and raced down the hall.
“Daphne!” The Master’s voice coming out of Richard’s mouth, making the words misshapen and horrible, like he couldn’t work Richard’s lungs or lips. She heard him stumble against the stairs. “Daphne!”
She ran barefoot across the entry hall and back upstairs to the bedroom. Where were Richard’s keys? It wasn’t raining now, she was going to take the goddamned car and leave. She tossed Richard’s bedside table, and his lamp fell to the ground, rattling. She caught it with both hands. “Shhhhhhh.”
“Daphne!” He was closer now – he’d see her if she ran out of the room again – where could she go? “I only want to be with you, Daphne!” the voice that wasn’t Richard’s shouted from right outside the door.
Daphne bit back a scream and lunged across the room, reaching for her closet door. With the things she’d packed earlier gone there was room inside for her – she crouched down and tried to calm her breathing.
“Where are you, Daphne?” The Master’s voice, slow and rough, like Richard had had a stroke and eaten cotton. “I need you,” he said, making the ‘u’ into a howl.
She kicked her feet out, trying to get further away from him, and felt her back against the closet’s back wall – and then felt it give behind her. She fell back and only barely stopped herself from screaming.
The Haunted (Sleeping with Monsters Book 1) Page 16