MasukChapter 6He holds them there with one hand, his grip firm but not bruising. With his free hand, he begins to trace the outline of my body through the fabric.He starts at my waist, his fingers skimming the curve of my hip. I gasp, my back arching instinctively, pushing my ass back against him. I can feel the hard ridge of his cock through his trousers, thick and insistent against my buttocks."So responsive," he notes, his voice right next to my ear. He releases my wrists, and his hands roam freely, cupping my breasts through the stiff uniform. He squeezes, his thumbs finding my nipples and rubbing them until they bead into hard, aching points. I bite my lip to keep from moaning, the sensation shooting straight to my clit."Please," I whisper, not knowing what I'm asking for."Shh." His hands drift lower, lifting the hem of my skirt. The cool air hits my legs, followed instantly by his warm palms. He strokes the inside of my thighs, teasing the sensitive skin, moving higher with ev
Chapter 5The heavy oak door of the library clicks shut behind me, the sound echoing in the silence of the hallway. My heart hammers against my ribs so I press my back against the cool wood, inhaling the scent of beeswax and dust, waiting for the shout of a guard or the heavy tread of a boot. Nothing. The corridor remains empty, bathed in the pale, ghostly light of the moon.I turn the handle and slip inside.The library is filled with shadows, the towering shelves looming like dark sentinels. A single lamp burns on the massive mahogany desk at the far end, a pool of amber light cutting through the gloom. Soren is there, exactly as he said he would be. He leans back against the desk, one leg crossed casually over the other, the half-empty bottle of dark red wine resting near his elbow. The liquid catches the light, shimmering like blood.He doesn't look up immediately. He swirls the wine in his glass, watching the vortex with a lazy fascination, but I know he hears me. The air betwe
Chapter 4It’s been Seven days. One hundred and sixty-eight hours of navigating the Deveraux estate like a ghost in my own life. I have mapped the corridors by the creak of the floorboards and the shift of the air currents, Cassiel is the minefield; I simply do not step where he walks.I move through the mornings in a quick routine, my body performing the duties of a maid while my mind constantly scans the perimeter.I polish the silver until my reflection stares back, distorted and wary. I scrub the marble until my knuckles are raw, the friction a grounding reminder that I am still here, still corporeal, still untouched. The memory of his hand hovering near my face, haunts me. I haven’t dropped anything since. I haven’t breathed too loud.But avoidance is a lonely fortress.The afternoon sun spills across the estate and I am pruning the ferns, I hear the footsteps before I see him. Lighter than Cassiel’s deliberate, predatory walk. There is no swagger in it. Just the casual crunch
Chapter 3The duster slips from my fingers before I even realize my hand has opened. It hits the polished floorboards with a dull thud, sending up a small, mocking cloud of lemon-scented dust. The sound seems deafening in the oppressive silence of the drawing room, It sounded like a gunshot I don't bend to pick it up. I can't. My legs are locked, muscles quivering with a sudden, electric current that has nothing to do with fatigue and everything to do with the man standing three feet away.Cassiel hasn't moved. He’s still leaning against the mahogany desk, his posture deceptively lazy, but the air around him has shifted. It feels thinner, harder to breathe. He watches the duster settle, then slowly lifts his gaze back to mine. My heart is hammering against my ribs. The pulse in my throat beats so hard I can feel it throbbing against my skin.I force myself to turn fully toward him, ignoring the way my hands tremble at my sides. I clench them into fists, nails digging into my palms
Chapter 2I follow him, my legs trembling so violently I have to concentrate to keep my stride even. The corridors are dimly lit, lined with portraits of severe-looking men and women who seem to glare down at me in judgment. The silence is heavy, broken only by the sound of Evren’s boots and my own soft, pathetic shuffling."Here," Evren says, stopping at a small, plain door tucked under the stairs. He opens it to reveal a cramped room containing a narrow bed, a small wardrobe, and a tiny window looking out onto the stone wall of the estate. "This is where you'll sleep. You have ten minutes to change and get upstairs. Don't keep Cassiel waiting."He leaves without another word, the door clicking shut behind him. I step into the room and drop my suitcase on the bed. The space is claustrophobic, the air stale. I sit down heavily, burying my face in my hands. I can do this, I tell myself. I need this job. I just have to keep my head down, stay invisible, and survive.But as I change
Chapter 1 The iron gates of the Deveraux estate loom ahead, black spikes piercing the gray sky like the ribs of some great, skeletal beast. I grip the handle of my worn leather suitcase until my knuckles ache, the damp morning air seeping through the thin fabric of my uniform. The black dress is too stiff, the white apron too tight, marking me instantly as an intruder in this world of old money amd power. The mansion itself is made of stone and bars, perched on the edge of the cliffs as if It’s about to fall off a cliff. I climb the marble steps, my shoes clicking too loudly against the pristine surface. Before I can even lift the heavy brass knocker, the door swings open silently.A man stands there. He is tall, his posture rigid, his dark hair swept back with gel. His eyes are the color of sea, cold and unyielding. He looks at me not as a person, but as an object that has been misplaced on his pristine floor."You are late," he says. His voice is a low rumble."The bus, sir," I
Chapter 3I hollow my cheeks, taking him as deep as I can, my tongue swirling around the head. He tastes like my mother, like sex, like sin. His grip on my hair tightens, his hips rocking forward, fucking my mouth in slow, deep thrusts. Saliva drips down my chin, my eyes watering, but I don’t pull
Chapter 5 My thighs stick together, slick with his cum and my own arousal, my panties tangled around one ankle like a discarded thought. The taste of him lingers on my tongue, but I don’t have time to savor it. Not when Jennie’s deal is still dangling over my head like a noose, not when the condu
Chapter 5The moment his cock slips from my mouth, I stay on my knees, my lips still parted, my tongue flicking out to catch the last salty drop of him. My thighs are slick with my own arousal, my skin still stinging from the belt, my body humming with the aftershocks of the orgasm he forced from
Chapter 3His fingers tighten around my chin as he forces my gaze to stay locked on his. The cold, dark hunger in his eyes makes my stomach clench, my pussy still throbbing from the last time he filled me. His thumb presses into my lower lip, dragging it down just enough to expose my teeth before







