by Kathryn Moon
"Why am I dressing, anyway?" I asked.
Amon's head slid over the edge of the bed, black hair hanging down to the floor, upside-down grin flashing at me from the mirror. "So I find the strength to do the same. You're too much of a temptation when I have you warm and bare next to me."
I hummed my agreement and arched a brow at him, his grin carving deeper into his cheeks.
"You're not staying today?"
He sighed and pulled himself upright, and I watched the play of muscle on his chest, remembering a similar vision from the night—firelight on his abs as he thrust up into me and I rode that hook on his cock through one orgasm after another.
"I want to find a home nearby. Now that we are settled, I would rather be close," Amon said, combing long, elegant, dexterous fingers through his mane.
Part of me thrilled at the gesture. Amon living nearby might help eliminate some of the days of loneliness I'd been suffering from. On the other hand…
"You know there will be others," I said, turning and watching him rise from the bed.
He paused briefly, reaching for his trousers on the floor and giving me a beautiful view of his ass, complete with the scratches I'd left on his skin yesterday morning. "Dr. Underwood is a respectable man, and Thibodeaux is an old acquaintance."
My eyes narrowed on Amon's back, fairly certain he was avoiding looking back at me. "And Booker?"
Amon whipped around, face dumbstruck and open with surprise. "The servant?"
"I want him," I said, squaring my shoulders. I considered adding that if Amon wasn't going to spend the day with me, I might just take the opportunity to spend it with Booker. But I didn't want Amon to change his plans just to prevent me, and actually, I was quite sore from our activities.
Amon scowled at this but shrugged. "I suppose he might be something like a toy for you. But you ought to be careful, he's made of marble, he could hurt you."
"He wouldn't. And he's more than stone. He can feel just as much as you or I. And what of Ez—"
"The thief is not a member of this house," Amon snapped, rushing to dress and nearly getting tangled in his own sleeves.
"Magdalena said—"
Amon huffed, and suddenly, he was in motion, storming over to me so quickly and with such a fire in his gaze, I reared back. "The man is a scoundrel, he told me so himself. A thief! How will he provide for you? What will he bring you that he doesn't take from another woman?"
"I don't need presents!"
"You should be treated like a—"
A strangled growl rose up from my throat, and Amon's eyes widened as I spoke. "Amon, I am not a queen, and I don't expect that sort of treatment. I was a maid, for goodness’ sake. Rooksgrave is the nicest place I've ever lived, let alone worked. And I'm not ashamed of that." My face was hot, but it was temper not shame. Amon might've been trying to prove to me that Ezra wasn't worth anything, but Ezra felt like a kindred spirit. Impulsive and yes, impoverished. Wicked.
"You deserve better," Amon grumbled. "You deserve better than this house, even, as grateful as I am to find you here."
I laughed at the idea that I could ever find myself a better station than Rooksgrave. "Says who?"
"Says me!" Amon roared. I startled, and he stepped back, taking a deep breath and pursing his lips, staring out the window for a moment of quiet. "You had, what, an hour with the man? You know next to nothing of him except that he was a thief and he didn't have enough honor to do things properly. I refuse to risk our connection on a man that likely has no intention of keeping any promise to you."
I blinked at that, unable to argue. Dr. Underwood, Auguste, and Amon were all entirely unlike any man I'd ever had sex with. Ezra was…
Perhaps he was a little too like the men of my past, and maybe Amon was right and he'd already gotten what he'd wanted. Oh, he might come back again for another go and it would be great fun, but that didn't mean he was the kind to plan anything more than a few moments of passion.
You don't know that, I reassured myself. You don't know either way.
Amon sighed and moved closer, warm hands framing my shoulders, one skimming up my neck to tip my chin a little higher, my eyes meeting his. "I'm sorry, my star. I don't approve. But it doesn't change my intention on making you mine." I opened my mouth, and Amon's head dipped, distracting me from my thought with a gentle kiss. "Let the—Mr. MacKenna and Magdalena sort out the matter of his membership. If I must reconcile myself to sharing your time with him, then…"
Amon shrugged, but there was a slightly smug expression on his face that let me know just how unlikely he thought that event would be.
"I can spoil you enough for five men, let alone one rascal," Amon added, kissing me again, nipping playfully at my frown and nuzzling my cheek until I finally relaxed and huffed out a laugh.
"I just don't want you to have any misconceptions about what kind of girl I am," I said.
Amon purred, kisses moving to my throat and the hand on my shoulder moving down to grip my ass, drawing me into him. "I think of the two of us, I am not the one confused on the matter." I scowled over Amon's shoulder, but my annoyance didn't stop me from arching in his hold. He sighed over my shoulder and rested his cheek there for a moment. "If Magdalena finds any more gentlemen for you, I will find a way to manage my jealousy."
I would probably need to talk to Magdalena in that case. She said she tried to keep a girl's men in some kind of harmony, and Amon seemed to put a kink in my arrangements. But for all my frustration with him in the moment, I still didn't want to give him up. It wasn't the promise of gifts, or even the stunning ecstasy he wrought on my body, but the reverence in his eyes as he bent his head to kiss me. That was the best of his gifts, and the one I would fight to keep.
Amon left shortly before Rooksgrave's breakfast was laid out for all the girls, and I found an open seat with a few familiar faces I hadn't properly met yet.
"Pass me the coffee," I said, although I was already reaching for the pot.
"I'm surprised you're not hoarse. We all heard you howling most of yesterday," one girl said, making me and a few others giggle. She was small, with bright blonde hair and a pretty but slightly pinched expression to her face.
"I'm enthusiastic," I said, shrugging.
"What was he? An incubus?" Lilah asked, passing me the cream for my coffee.
I shook my head. "A sphinx."
The other girls stared blankly back at me, and I shrugged, explaining the version of Amon I'd seen in the desert dream.
The one who'd accused me of howling reared back. "Oh god! Did you have to fuck that?"
I blinked and tipped my head in thought, wondering if that was even possible and if Amon would be interested. He'd been shocking in his sphinx form at first, but I couldn't say I wouldn't try it if he asked me to. He was still Amon either way, and maybe the fur would feel nice?
"No. He looked mostly like a man this whole visit. But he's got a special cock," I said, making Lilah gurgle her own cup of juice. I grinned at the blonde across from me and added, "Hence the howling."
The rest of the girls leaned in, ready to gossip, asking for details, but I was surprised that the blonde only wrinkled her nose and went back to her food. Maybe she was jealous?
After a long discussion of male anatomy over our morning sausages, the table began to clear and quiet. I was not the only girl with a fancy cock to enjoy, one had something similar sounding to Amon's hook, but it was at the base, and another girl got to enjoy one that moved on its own. I was a bit jealous of that, because it sounded like she could just cuddle up and get fucked without much effort.
"Sometimes it gets a little too big to be so energetic," she said with a slight wince and a shrug.
I thought of Mr. Tanner and how full he'd made me feel, and decided it still sounded like fun to me.
Mary, the blonde who'd tried to embarrass me, cleared her throat. "I'm going into the village this afternoon to spend a little. Maybe buy a new hat. Anyone want to join me?"
&nb
sp; "Didn't you just buy a new hat?"
"Boot buckles," Mary corrected. She turned to me and feigned a whisper. "I buy myself something nice every time my gentleman from last night comes for a visit. I convinced him he ought to pay me extra for the things he likes to do."
"But we get paid plenty," I said, laughing.
Mary rolled her eyes and shrugged. "He can afford it, and this way, I don't have to spend my earnings."
So this was the kind of girl Amon was talking about.
I thought of the money Magdalena had given me from my first paycheck, and my scuffed, too-small black boots.
"I'll come," I offered. Maybe I would find a slightly nicer change of clothing too for walking about the country on my days without any visitors.
Mary smiled, but the look didn't reach her eyes, and I noted that none of the other girls offered to join us. There was something unfriendly about her, and I thought I might feel bad for whoever this unwelcome gentleman of hers might be.
We finished our meal, and I hurried up to my room to grab my coat and little purse, meeting Mary back downstairs.
"The others let their gentlemen pick out gifts for them," Mary said, marching slightly ahead of me as we left the manor. "But I don't trust any kind of man to choose things for me."
Thinking of the dresses I'd received so far, I nodded with a little smile. "I imagine they pick to their own tastes."
"Exactly," Mary hissed. "Hunter, this fellow, he'd put me in nothing but chains or rags if he could."
My eyes widened at that. "Nice chains?" I asked, hoping for lightness.
Mary huffed. "You sound like him," she muttered.
"Is he cruel?" Hadn't Magdalena said that Rooksgrave Manor didn't tolerate that sort of thing?
"He's disgusting," Mary snapped, her steps speeding up until we reached the road, then slowing a little. "No…not cruel. They aren't allowed to be are they? But he gets away with what he can, and I make him pay for every minute of it."
I hurried to catch up, walking alongside Mary. She was a few inches shorter than me, but she marched down the road like she had a fire on her heels. I wanted to dig for details—did he have scales, did he punish her like Amon had with me yesterday, did he have a particular sexual taste that she abhorred? I felt bad for this Hunter and the way Mary was using him.
And then I thought of Magdalena Mortimer and all her careful study of the arrangements of her gentlemen and ladies. Perhaps Hunter was using Mary too. Maybe they were both a little awful and deserved each other. I hoped that was the case.
"How many do you have?" Mary asked.
"Three. Two officially, but one man was the one who found me the position here, and he's coming to visit soon. You?"
"Two at the moment. I had others, but they moved on."
"To other girls in the house?" I asked, eyes widening.
"Other houses, you know, like Rooksgrave but elsewhere," Mary said with a wave of her hand.
Maybe because you were trying to bleed their pocketbooks dry, I thought. "Do you like your other gentleman?"
Mary let out a weary sigh. "He's more tolerable. Mostly wants someone to listen to him talk. Eventually, I'll have enough saved, and I won't need this place, or its men," Mary murmured, gaze distant.
I stuffed my hands in my pockets, and we walked the rest of the way in silence. Mary wasn't very interested in me, which was fine, and I was a little afraid of her answers. I hadn't considered life after Rooksgrave, I'd barely been there for a month. But surely Auguste and Amon and any others wouldn't want to pay to keep me indefinitely. There were a couple of older women at the breakfast table, but not many. Was that because men didn't want them, or because the women didn't want to stay?
I barely noticed the village as we arrived, too busy fretting years ahead of the moment. Mary knew her way around, and she marched us directly to the milliner's shop, windows dressed with silk flowers and lace veils and satin ribbons. Bright bells rang over our heads as we stepped inside, the little shop cluttered with accessories and hats on forms.
Mary marched directly to the front of the shop, near the counter, and began to studiously admire what I thought was a rather atrocious looking sunhat, piled high with silk flowers and feathers. I stopped by the spools of ribbon to observe her, a slight smirk curling over my lips the longer I watched.
She wasn't just looking at the hat, she was posing, twisting this way and that as she studied it, catching the sunlight from the window on her cheekbone. A moment later, I knew exactly why.
"M-miss Edmundson," a low voice stumbled out, a man appearing behind the counter from a back room. He looked to be in his late forties, but he was large and handsome, and if it weren't for the hopeless, stunned expression on his face as he stared at Mary, he might've had an almost rakish look about him, with his thick dark beard and broad shoulders.
"Mr. Mondrake, good afternoon," Mary all but sighed, turning to the counter and delivering a feminine curtsey, her hand pretending to rest on her bosom but really just pressing it higher against her collar.
"May I be of any service to you today?" Mr. Mondrake asked in such a desperate tone, I nearly snorted.
"Only browsing," Mary said lightly, and then very quickly added, "Tell me what's new that's come in."
I wasn't sure if this was the escape route from Rooksgrave Manor that Mary had in mind. Mr. Mondrake's shop was lovely, but it was only in a little village. Perhaps that was why Mary was so determined to save her earnings and so eager to spend outside of them. A lovely young woman was enticing, but a lovely young woman with a modest independent fortune could have her pick of bachelors.
I could see her then, one of the locals of this little village, marching about this hat shop like a queen of her own, small universe.
And it wasn't until I tried to imagine myself in her place, that I realized I found the whole thing sadly drab. Maybe Amon was right about me. Maybe I wanted more, and not just in terms of pleasure. I just wasn't certain what that more might be yet.
Chapter Eleven
Empty Air and Solid Stone
Amon didn't return for the evening, and I tried to stamp down my disappointment. I'd never been downstairs for the evening in Rooksgrave yet, always occupied by my gentleman for the night, and I wondered what the festivities looked like. A polite dinner with drinking and some ingenue playing clumsily at the piano, like the dinner parties of the upper class? Or was it raucous and raunchy, public and indecent?
I snuck out of my bedroom when the lights in the hall dimmed and went to sit in the stairwell, listening to the voices below. Was that a moan I heard, or just a low plaintive note?
Footsteps shuffled on the rug behind me, and I stiffened, twisting in my seat and craning my neck to stare up at the vast shadow behind me.
"Hello, Booker," I said, sighing and relaxing against the wall.
There was no sound of effort or creak of bones as Booker joined me on the floor, just a cool sigh over the back of my neck and the firm press of his body offering a better surface to lean against.
"Have you ever been to one of the parties downstairs?" I asked.
"Two."
"Was it fun?"
Booker grunted noncommittally, and I smiled.
"Was anyone having sex?" I tried instead.
"Yes."
"Then it was fun." And now I was feeling rather left out. If it weren't for the remaining twinge from Amon's visit, I probably would've begged Booker to take me downstairs to join the fun. But if I was going to watch people have sex, I was almost definitely going to want to be having some of my own, and I didn't want to cause any trouble with any of the couples.
I missed Auguste. He would've joined me, teased me, and then toyed with me in front of the others.
"You're sad," Booker said.
I stilled and then looked up, smiling as I found Booker staring down at me, craned over the top of my head to examine my expression.
"I love it here, and yet I feel like I haven't found my footing yet," I admitted
. Booker only stared back at me. I licked my bottom lip, and his eyes flicked there and then back again. He didn't have that same look of desire he'd worn during my bath, this one was more concerned.
There was another long moan echoing up the stairs, and I sighed and shivered, leaning into Booker's body, pretending that I wasn't about to turn around and rub myself against him.
"Esther?"
I jumped, twisting in place, a blush flooding my cheeks as I stared guiltily back at Magdalena in the middle of the hall behind me and Booker. And then I remembered I wasn't actually doing anything wrong.
"Just…listening," I said.
I expected Magdalena to tease me or chastise me as she usually might, but instead, she seemed not to hear me. Or at least to not pay attention. Her eyes were traveling the hall as if she was searching for someone.
Ezra? Had he snuck back in?
"Is everything all right, Madame?" I asked, trying to stamp down the hopeful note in my voice.
Magdalena was dressed in a beautiful evening gown, even if it was a few decades out of fashion, pooling around the floor at her feet. Over the dress, she wore an elaborate robe that still looked a little dusty over the shoulders. She seemed distracted, and I thought she might've only applied color to one cheek.
She hummed in her distraction. "Mmm, everything is…" Her eyes blinked, and her head whipped back to stare at Booker and I, more alert and a little startled. "Esther, what are you doing out here? Booker, I think it would be best if you escorted Esther back to her room."
I squeaked as Booker's hands wrapped around my waist, lifting me from the floor as if I were nothing more than a doll or a light piece of furniture. It reminded me of the way Mr. Tanner had used me. Booker wasn't quite as huge as the mysterious man who shared Dr. Underwood, but I had a feeling he was just as strong, and it gave me a dark thrill at the idea of being tossed around, my body managed easily onto his cock.