Good Manors

by Victoria Blisse

  “Oh, thank you, Xander, you won’t regret it.”

  I held her. I wanted to kiss her, to keep her with me forever, but I knew that wasn’t an option. India pulled back from me a moment later, cheeks flushed scarlet. She took a deep breath and spoke. “Thanks, that’s great. And thanks for letting me visit. I have to get going now, though.”

  “Don’t be a stranger,” I replied with what I hoped was a light smile.

  “I’ll be in touch soon with the article.” Her words sounded awkward, like she was filling the silence.

  “Brilliant, looking forward to it.” I glanced down at my toes. What more could I say? I knew it was likely the last time I’d ever see her but what could I do to stop it?

  “Bye then.” She headed toward the impressive staircase. “I’m okay to go up this way, aren’t I?”

  “Sure.” I checked the watch on my wrist. “The visitors won’t be allowed in for a good hour and a half yet.”

  “Okay. Well, bye, Xander.”

  “Bye, India.”

  I watched her run up the first few stairs. She turned, looked and opened her mouth. She then closed her sensual lips together, waved and continued up the stairs. I walked away. I couldn’t watch her any longer. I couldn’t watch my happiness disappear.

  Chapter Thirteen

  India Grace

  I sat on the end of the tiny single bed and stared down at the image of Xander in the viewfinder. His smile was light, natural, and captured a joy that made my heart swell. At the same time tears welled up and before I knew it a shower of them fell onto the picture, obscuring his face. It was stupid. I dashed the tears from my eyes with the back of my hand then wiped them from the screen with the cuff of my jumper.

  I switched the camera off and put it back in the case. I had to go. I had to leave Mallard’s and Xander Patrick behind me. I would do my utmost to write the most attractive article ever to double and triple their turnover but then that would have to be it.

  Fucking Xander had been a mistake. I shouldn’t have let my lust control me. He might not be Mallard in name but he was in lineage, and how could I ever have any serious relationship with him knowing what I’d done to his father? How could I keep that from him?

  I slung the camera in its case over my shoulder and picked up my suitcase. It was time to go. More tears threatened to spill over but I couldn’t let them. I took a deep breath then walked out of Mallard Hall forever.

  Or so I’d thought. An hour later but only a quarter of a mile down the road I began to think differently. I tuned into the local radio station and after an assortment of strange jingles and adverts the travel update was announced.

  “There is an overturned lorry on the High Road in Madupton that’s blocked both sides of the road. The traffic is backed up both ways and isn’t likely to ease any time soon. Motorists are advised to avoid the area.”

  I switched off the radio and looked in my rear mirror. The car behind wasn’t too close and I had room in front of me so in a rush of rash adrenaline I made a U-turn and headed right back to Mallard’s. The traffic was easy, I made it back in a matter of minutes and once I parked up I headed for the shop.

  “What are you doing here?” Mary asked when I popped my head round the door. I knew she’d be there.

  “There’s an upturned lorry on the road out of here, the traffic is trailing back both ways. So I turned round. Am I okay to stay here until it’s sorted?”

  “Oh, I’m sure you are. Xander’s in the office, though, and you better check with him. He is the actual boss, you know.”

  “So they say,” I laughed. “Thanks, Mary.”

  “You’re welcome, dearie.” She waved as I headed across to the hall. Spring sunshine bathed the light hall in a golden glow. I marveled at the richness of the ancient stone and tried really hard to think about extra information I could gather for my article. Not Xander Patrick.

  He was leaning over his desk when I got there, scrutinizing a piece of paper in minute detail.

  “What is it, Mary?” he asked, without looking up.

  “It’s not Mary,” I replied, and his head snapped up. “It’s me, India.”

  “India?” His intonation rose, his surprise showing.

  “Yep, I couldn’t stay away.” I giggled nervously. “There’s been an accident on the main road. The traffic’s backing up for miles. Can I stay here until it passes?”

  “Yes, of course, of course.”

  “I’m sure I can find something to keep me occupied, I’ll get some extra info for the article. Maybe I can—”

  “I’ll show you round.”

  “Oh, no, you don’t have to, I know you’re busy.”

  “No, no, I insist.” He pushed the papers on his desk into a hurried pile then pulled open the drawer in the desk and stuffed the papers in there. “Let me show you. I want to.”

  “Well, if you’re sure.” I wanted to spend the day with him more than anything else, even if my conscience was screaming at me to run away.

  “I’m sure,” he answered, brooking no nonsense.

  Xander strode off, and I meekly followed behind him. I wanted to reach out and grab his hand, to hold it and tell him I didn’t want to go. I wanted more of him. There was even a part of me that wanted to tell him my secret—the burden of it hurt my heart.

  But I couldn’t hold his hand, I couldn’t tell him the truth. One might ruin the magazine and its reputation—I couldn’t have people thinking I rated a place on the shagability of the owner—and the other would break Xander’s heart, and I couldn’t do that. I’d already hurt him before I’d ever met him. I couldn’t bear to inflict any more pain on him.

  So I followed him. Fate or coincidence or God—whatever or whoever it was that had brought me back to him had given us the opportunity to spend some more time together. I’d use that opportunity to give Xander everything that I could. To give him all of me for a few hours. To show him how sorry I was for the past even if I couldn’t express that to him in words.

  He led me back down the corridor and toward the main stairway and the visitor end of the manor.

  “If Gerald was in the Grand Hall before”—Xander looked at his watch—“he should have visited where I want to take you already.”

  Just on the other side of the main stairway, he ducked into one of the doors and I followed him. He shut the door behind us, pulled a bunch of keys from his inside pocket and turned an ancient key in the old brass lock.

  “Just in case the tourists are still about.” Xander smiled.

  “This is stunning.” I remembered the room from my tour with Gerald. The grand bathroom. It was just like it used to be, old-fashioned bath in the middle of the room. When the house had been built there hadn’t been running water and the Mallards had preserved this one bathroom in all its ancient glory.

  A stand in the corner held a massive porcelain basin and jug, decorated with a delicate floral pattern. In another corner lay a couple of the huge copper jugs the servants would have filled up with hot water from the kitchens and lugged up to the bathroom to fill the impressive bath every time one of the family wanted one.

  “We didn’t have to do much with this room, it’s always been like this.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, this posh end of the house has never really been used much.” Xander shrugged.

  “So you’ve never had a bath in there then?” I giggled.

  “No.” He shook his head, the dark locks bouncing. “I never have.”

  “I’d love to bathe in there.”

  “Oh yes?”

  “Yeah, have a hot, hunky man pour hot, bubbly water all over me as I stretch out and relax? I could go for that.” I turned to him and wrapped my arms around his neck. There was no need to be coy and I wanted him to know the hot guy I mentioned was him.

  “Now if the kitchen wasn’t so far away and the house full of strangers I’d be willing to help you out with that fantasy. You’ll have to store it up for another time.”

&nb
sp; My heart sank—there would never be another time. I didn’t dwell on it, though, as our lips met and I was consumed by his closeness, his caress.

  “I might not be able to bathe you, my love, but I would like to get you naked.”

  Xander pushed his hands up under my top and lifted it over my head. I was happy to let him strip me—I was ready for whatever would come from that. He threw the light, floral material onto the floor and put his hands on my waist again.

  He studied me. The harder he looked, the hotter my cheeks felt. After a moment that stretched on forever, he shifted his hands and moved them up my back until he hit the band of my bra then he unfastened the clip, after only one false start. He peeled the cotton away from my body.

  I held my breath. My breasts dipped to rest in their natural position. Mine weren’t the perky boobs of a fake porn star. For a moment I worried about that, then Xander cupped them tenderly in his hands, moaned, and all worry—hell, all thought—left my mind. Softly he flicked his thumbs back and forth, brushing over my nipples. They puckered and tightened with every flick. My breathing deepened, each breath an aroused pant.

  “Not quite naked yet,” he mumbled, looking up and smiling at me. He then looked down again and pushed my skirt off my hips.

  “Kick off your shoes,” he demanded.

  I obeyed, dislodging my skirt at the same time. I was completely naked and he hadn’t even taken off his jacket. I shuddered, not from cold but from the realization that he had stripped me for his pleasure. I was vulnerable and naked at his command. He could ask me to do anything. And I knew I would do it without much hesitation. Whatever he wanted, I wanted.

  Xander glanced round the room, his gaze calculating. I watched him intently, and suddenly his face lit up with a smile.

  “Stand over there, by the jugs.” He pointed, and I walked.

  Very aware that he was looking at me, I took my time and accentuated my hip movements. I’d give him something seriously sensual to appreciate. When I reached the wall, I stopped, facing it.

  “This is an amazing view, India, but please turn around and face me.”

  I turned around, and he nodded.

  “This view is just as pleasant.” He smirked and walked toward me. “You’re very beautiful.”

  “Thank you, Sir.” I dipped my head, cowed slightly by the compliment.

  “You’re welcome, now look at me.”

  I lifted my chin and looked at Xander again. He stopped just a step in front of me. “Spread your legs.”

  I followed his instructions, widening my stance. He smiled and stepped away from me.

  I squinted and crinkled my brow in confusion. Where was he going?

  “Now, you would like me to treat you, pour hot water over you in that tub, you’d probably expect me to scrub you down too, right?”

  “I would like that, Sir,” I answered, carefully weighing up my answer.

  “Yes, I would too,” Xander agreed. “But for such a treat, India, you need to earn it, well, urn it, in fact.” He laughed as he picked up two of the giant jugs and carried them back to me.

  “Extend your arms.”

  I lifted them out from my body.

  “Straighten them.”

  I pushed them higher.

  “Perfect.” He put the handle of one jug into my left hand, and I closed my fist around it. “Keep it there, don’t let it fall.”

  It was heavy. Not World’s Strongest Man heavy but it already strained my muscles to hold it up like that. Moments later, he put the other jug into my right hand. I gripped it and he let the weight fall.

  “Okay, I don’t want to see them drop at all, not even an inch. If you lower either one of them I will stop what I’m doing immediately. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Sir,” I replied quickly. I didn’t want to delay proceedings any further. Even if I didn’t know what he was going to do to me.

  “Good.” He stepped closer to me, reached a hand round my body and squeezed my bum, which was still stinging somewhat from our earlier interaction. I hissed but kept the jugs in pretty much the same position. A moment later, his other hand pressed against my pubis. His clothing grazed my skin as his fingers sank down through my pubic curls to the top of my slit.

  He tapped his pointer there. I wanted to squirm, to stand on tiptoes and make his fingers contact my clit like I needed them to but I waited patiently, arms aching from wrist to shoulder. The damn jugs weighed a ton, maybe not literally but it felt like it.

  Each second felt like a millennium but eventually he inched his fingers lower and pressed against my clit. I shuddered. Xander paused and the jugs clattered but I didn’t drop them. He continued to press lower until his fingers dipped inside me. I moaned at his filling me and he pumped into me a couple of times, watching my right arm intently. I held the handles tight and prayed for the strength to keep on holding the weights out.

  He didn’t continue with the same action for long, he ran the moisture of my wet pussy up my slit and swirled it around my clit.

  “Fuck.” I gasped. My arms ached, my clit throbbed and my legs wobbled.

  Xander laughed. Wicked man. He didn’t stop rubbing, and soon I could feel my orgasm building. I wasn’t thinking about my arms anymore, all my attention was centered on my clit. Then he stopped, and I realized my arms had dropped a little. I straightened them back up.

  “Good girl. For that recovery, I’ll be lenient.” He continued his stroking action, three fingers up and down between my wet lips, rolling up and over my clit then down again in a pleasurable rhythm. I held myself as stiffly as I could, my whole body straining to keep my arms up. Beads of sweat pricked at my skin. I knew my face had gotten redder. The heat of exertion warmed past my cheeks to my lip, forehead and beyond.

  Each strumming move of his fingers elicited a new noise from between my lips. Pants, groans, moans and curses pushed out of my mouth as I tried, oh how I tried to keep those jugs raised.

  I felt Xander’s head dip—he had it rested against my shoulder. He was looking down my body, not at my arms, so I relaxed them ever so slightly, hoping he was distracted by what he was viewing. Maybe a little respite might mean I’d be able to let go and come all over his hands.

  But he clearly felt the shift and stopped what he was doing immediately.

  “Oh, India. You’d been doing so well.”

  “Sorry, Sir.” I slumped. I couldn’t hold up the weights anymore, I just couldn’t.

  “You tried your hardest, but you do know that means you don’t get to come.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  Xander stepped away from me.

  “Put the jugs down, India.”

  I was bitterly disappointed with myself. I’d let Xander down and that hurt me.

  “Oh, don’t look so sad,” he comforted. “You did very well and I was being decidedly mean.”

  I stood up, and he wrapped me up in a hug and I squeezed him tightly in return.

  “I did try.” I gasped. Tears pricked behind my eyes but I wouldn’t let them fall.

  “I know you did, I’m proud of you.” Xander kissed my forehead, and I pressed myself closer to him, inhaled his warming musk and stemmed the flow of the stupid tears. Disappointing Xander had hurt me. I didn’t want to do it again.

  He tipped back my head, smiled at me and kissed my lips. I kissed back, throwing all my dedication, all my eagerness to please into that kiss.

  “God, you’re so fucking hot, India,” Xander whispered. “But you better get dressed. Gerald will be round with the next tour soon. We need to get out of here to a new room. I know where we can go too, where we definitely won’t be disturbed.”

  My heart jumped in my chest. That sounded promising.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Xander Patrick

  I didn’t know where that mean idea had leaped from but seeing India strain to hold those two weights up while I’d pleasured her pleased me beyond measure. I’d nearly let her get away with the slip, just so I could watch her com
e, feel her contract on my fingers and hear her cries of delight, but rules were rules and she had broken them.

  The poor girl looked completely mortified, I didn’t want her upset by the game so I held her and told her how proud I was. I would have happily stayed and played longer but I was aware of the time and the last thing I wanted was Gerald trying to get in with a group of nosy old tourists.

  She dressed quickly. The movement of her breasts and thighs as she wiggled into clothing took my breath away. It was just as arousing as if she were taking things off.

  “Don’t bother with the bra.” I picked it up and stuffed it in my jacket pocket. “You won’t need it.”

  “Yes, Sir,” she answered, clearly shaken by my confiscation of her underwear.

  “I’ll enjoy watching your tits bounce for me,” I said with a wink.

  “Good,” she replied with a sigh. “I’m glad, Sir.”

  She slipped her top on and while she put the second shoe back on her foot I went to the door and unlocked it. I peeked out into the corridor—all was quiet.

  “Come on.” I beckoned to her. “Follow me.”

  I didn’t turn round—I knew she’d be in pursuit. There were few places in the whole manor where I was thoroughly secure in the knowledge that no one else would go there. The secret passages were one, but there was nowhere really comfortable to fuck there and we’d done that already. I had one more ace up my sleeve and no one else ever went there. Mostly because I told them they couldn’t, that it was unsafe.

  I led India into the servants’ end of the home. It was weird to think of it as that. It’d always been referred to that way, but really, it was where I’d grown up and lived. The lord of the manor who slept in the servants’ quarters. I was more of a servant than a lord—the place kept me enslaved. Not that I minded—it was my life, my soul. I couldn’t begin to imagine what I would be without it.

  At the very back of the servants’ quarters there was an old, wobbly set of stairs. At the bottom hung a ‘beware’ sign. I walked past it and glanced over at India, who was hovering near the bottom step.