Masked (Royally Hot 2)

“Well, finally. Thank goodness for that. The far stables are one storm away from falling down. My father spoke to the land overseer over a year ago, requesting help. There’s no possibility he and I could do those repairs. But…” She knitted her brow, considering me for a moment as I held my breath. “They turned him down.” She ran her fingers over her lips, narrowing her eyes at me, then shrugged. “But, as they say, do not look a gift horse in the mouth.”

I hadn’t known that, but it helped the lie and I didn’t miss a beat in nodding. “Let’s get you taken care of first. Do you have bandages?”

She shook her head. “No need. You just go about what you need to do.”

What I need to do, gorgeous, is fuck you until the inside of your pussy conforms to the shape of my cock. To taste what I already know will be the sweetest cunt in the kingdom.

No. That’s wrong.

In the fucking world.

If only she knew how badly I needed to look after her, both in bed and out of it. But clearly, she wasn’t used to having someone care for her.

Tough shit. She was damned well going to have to get used to it.

“Do you have bandages, or am I going to have to tear my shirt into strips?”

Iris looked away and a blush reddened her cheeks.

That fierce independence was sexy as hell, but she wasn’t going to win this one.

“Or if you prefer, we could use your nightdress.” I dropped my tone, a rumbling in my chest impossible to suppress. I watched her pupils dilate, the flush on her cheeks blanketing her chest and her perfect mouth falling agape.

I felt the charge between us crackle. Lust filed the air, I was sure of it. She wanted to give herself over to me, the hideous beast from the shadows, she just didn’t dare.

Not yet.

“There’s…” she said, pointing with trembling fingers. “Th—There’s a basket of linen bandages in the milking shed. On the shelf beside the milk pails. I use them for when I make a wrap for the livestock.” She pressed her lips together, then tugged them to one side, then the other.

Seeing her off center, a bit intimidated, was hotter than it should be. “I’ll be right back.”

Morning sun had broken over the hills and rocky outcrops of the land, and it took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the darkness of the milking shed once I entered.

One side of the shed, where I found the strips of linen, was organized and clean, not a cobweb or a speck of dust anywhere. But on the other side was a disused workbench, the tools upon it encrusted in bedding dust and spiders’ webs. The floor of the shed was immaculately clean, right up to the edges of the old bench, as if her father had warned her not to touch his tools, or else. It pissed me off, but I shoved down my anger for the time being.

I finally had her alone, for now, at least. All the rest of it could wait.

When I returned to the house, she was still sitting as I’d left her, though she’d subtly tucked the nightdress between her thighs to prevent me seeing my ultimate prize. My heart was in turmoil at that; part of me wanted her uncovered and railed against the idea of her hiding, the other part grinned at the cuteness of her modesty.

As gently as I could, making sure not to touch any of the bruised areas, I placed her heel on my knee as I sat down on the stool beside her. I went slowly, careful to keep some tension on the linen strips, but not too much.

Once I had her leg carefully wrapped and the linen tied in a bow to keep it secure, she once again gave me that look of embarrassment. “You have work to do. Please don’t let me keep you.”

Damn straight I had work to do. “That’s right. Those cows out there won’t milk themselves, will they?”

Chapter 5

Randal

Milking cows was a fuckload harder than I imagined it would be.

Who knew squeezing a teat required such technique? It took me a while to get the hang of it as Iris instructed me from a comfortable spot in the doorway, her bandaged leg elevated as she sat on a stool, dressed now after insisting that she was capable of doing so on her own. She almost died with laughter when I squirted myself in the face, but slowly I found my rhythm.

Whether she realized it or not, we were already locked in a dance that I wanted to take with her again and again. Though it wasn’t my nature to be the one following direction—I’d had enough of that to last a lifetime in my years lodging with the duke—it was my job to show her how it was done, so that she could do it for me in return.