Novel Name : Masters & Lovers Box Set Three

Chapter 40

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“Put your things in there. It’s the guest room.” He eyes the holdall she is carrying. “Is that all you have?”

“Yes. Max had them pick up some of my things, but I couldn’t carry much from the hotel.”

“Give me your keys and your address. Tell me what you want. Make a list. I’ll pick it up for you.”

She jots down…

… For the long term…

… Never going back…

… Clothes and personal items, a box she keeps containing bank books, tax records and similar, her
client records and diaries, a few precious books. A cookie jar she uses for handy cash.

Frank scans the list. “Sure that’s all?”

“It’s fine. I won’t stay with you longer than I have to.”


“I’ve brought back what I could, Mitch, but I couldn’t find all of it.” Frank dumps a suitcase containing
clothes by the bed, then another. Your books are still in the car, but I couldn’t put hands on those
records you were talking about. Or the cash.”

Wide-eyed, she chews a lip. “But… but they must be there…”

“Weren’t. I looked high and low. They’re not in there.”

She looks at her feet. “The police must have taken them.” She swipes a hand through her hair. “Never
mind. I’ll go to the bank. Draw out some cash.”

“There’s one just down the road. I’ll drive you.”


“What do you mean? I can’t have it? It’s my money. That’s my ID there…” Mitch pushes her driving
licence under the counter at the teller.

“I’m sorry madam, but the account is locked. There’s nothing I can do about it.”

“Let me talk to the manager.”

“I’ll see if he’s available, but these matters are handled by headquarters.”


“Any luck?” Frank pushes a mug to her. “It’s peppermint tea. I know you like it. I got some in for you.”

“Thank you.” Subdued, she sips. “No. No luck. All they would say is that my account is frozen.” She
raises liquid green eyes. “What am I going to do? I’ve no money…”

He sits by her, lays a hand on her thigh. “You’ll get it back when it goes through the courts, Mitch.”

“Frank, don’t you see? I don’t dare do that. Someone is trying to frame me. Someone has framed me.
Someone with police connections. My lawyer’s already been murdered. What kind of people d’you
think these are?”

His voice is flippant. “You can earn more money, Mitch.”

He doesn’t believe her…

Not really…

Not deep down…

“How? I can't show my face. Frank, I’ve got to get away from here.” Pressing fingers to her forehead,
“Christ, I’m painted into a corner. I’ve no money. I can’t work. If I moved away, I’ve nothing for a down-
payment on a new place…”

“Hey, Mitch. Calm down.” He tightens his hold on the thigh. “You’ve got me. Stay as long as you want.”

“Frank, I can’t pay rent or housekeeping or anything…”

He smacks a kiss onto her forehead. “Don’t worry about that. There’s more than one way of paying rent
isn’t there?” She turns to meet him full in the face. “And besides…” He waggles a finger at the silver
butterfly hanging around her neck. “… You’re still wearing it. So, Larry or no Larry, you must like me,
eh?” He slips an arm right around her, curving around spine and ribs to settle on a breast, giving it a
squeeze. “What d’you say?”

What choice does she have?

Slumping, eyes brimming, Mitch turns to look the other way. Slowly, and for the first time in her life,
feeling like a whore, “Alright, Frank. I’ll stay.”



Rain lashes sideways onto the windows.

Roll on Spring.

Is this blasted weather never going to end?

But I’m warm and comfortable; naked next to my dozing Jade-Eyes, her body heat percolating to me.
And beyond her…

Where’s Michael?

Got up early…?

The wind howls a complaint, rattling glass and the lashing of the rain turns to a spattering…


Why would he get up early for this?

Much better here…

… but over the blather of the weather, I hear the hiss of the shower in the en-suite.

I consider the tumble of red hair lying next to me.

How is she now?

Over the shock?

Or at least dealing with it?

I try an experimental stroke over the curve of a shoulder. She sighs and stirs.

She does look much better…

Another stroke. This time I follow it through along a smooth, pale arm.

The eyes flicker open, green orbs settling on me. The mouth curves up. “Good morning, Master.”

“Good morning. Slept well?”

“I did yes.”

I trace the line of her jaw with a thumbnail. And, how are you? How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine. I…” Her expression alters as it penetrates what I am actually asking. Then the smile curves
up a little more. She palms my hand into hers, pulling it to her mouth, kissing the fingers. “I'll live.” She
turns serious, her face softening. “And, how are you?”

Something stabs through me and my gut tightens.


But I jemmy the smile onto my face; keep my words soft. “I'll live too.”


Having her back and smiling again…

Beyond rubies…

She releases my hand, trailing fingers over my shoulders and neck, running into my hair. The sensation
skitters over me, popping nerve-endings down to my groin, stiffening my shaft.

“What would you like, Master?”

Curving an arm under her shoulders I draw her close, nestling her to my chest. Sweeping away a tide
of copper hair, I draw my hand over one lovely breast, thumbing at the rosy nipple; perking it up as she
sighs beside me. “I would like to feel you getting wet for me.”

Dropping over the breast I take the nipple in my mouth, nibbling and teething hard enough to spike a
little pain through her. The breath rattles from her lips, her hips quivering against my erection. Then she
bows her spine, reaching back, winding fingers around the bars of the headboard as emerald eyes
settle on mine again.

Her beautiful submission…

“Open your legs.”

Obediently, her eyes never leaving mine, she does so. Spreading herself, feet flat to the blankets, her
hips raised in the way she knows I enjoy. Quickly, I push a pillow under her, supporting her arched
position, keeping her comfortable.

She’s so lovely; naked, her body open as she gives herself to me. My cock throbs a rhythm, but there’s
no hurry. In a while, I’ll get inside, but just now, I’m happy to lie beside her, letting my hands do the

Flat-palmed, I smooth over the swell of first one, then the other breast. Heading south, I brush over
creamy-pale skin and her taut, flat belly to tangle fingertips in the fiery curls at her loins.

Her eyes are fluttering closed.

“Look at me, Charlotte.”

The lids flick open, and irises, vivid and verdant as a tropical forest, turn to mere rims encircling ebon

Not for the first time, I find myself entranced by her face. Stroking her one-handedly through the crease
of hip and thigh, the softest and most sensitive of skin, my merest touch and movement brings her

response. Using a fingernail, I draw a tracery over her skin, watching as her lips part and her eyes
begin to flicker closed again…

“Look at me…”

They snap open once more, but her milky skin is flushing; a tide of rose flushing over breast and neck,
pinpoints of colour on her cheeks

Gliding down to stroke over warm labia, my finger pads vibrate with the quiver that echoes through her
flesh. An impulse tells me to probe, to open her, but I resist it, waiting for the petals to unfold of

Long, unhurried strokes, first over lips, then the delicate skin of her inner thighs, then back again. My
fingertips are growing wet, and as I continue, she heats and unfurls. And all the while, I lock my eyes
with hers.

My shaft is trembling, demanding action. Pressing myself against her, the firm muscle of her thigh
quakes against my groin, increasing the pressure, hardening me further…


… but not yet…

Hot juices spill over my hand, slippery and tantalising. Curling my palm over her entrance, she’s flowing
freely now, and I penetrate with a finger...

A moan escapes her throat. Again, her eyes begin to close.

“Look at me.”

Once more, she obeys, her breath coming in short spurts, breasts vibrating with her heartbeat,
matching my own sky-rocketing pulse.

… circling her inside, spiralling within, stretching her.

The lush tang of her arousal billows and wet heat floods over my palm. I press in. Another finger and
another, splaying my fingers. Her moans grow urgent, then turn to wails as I press my thumb against
her clit.

Her whole body is a-tremble… “Master, please.”

“You can’t come yet.”

Her lips peel back, air whistling through her teeth.

Time for a change of pace…

Rolling away from her and off the bed, I peel her hands free of the bars, swing her around. Shifting the
pillow to support her head, I tug her forward until her hips overhang the mattress edge, I kneel, slip
fingers through her folds to open her, then push her ankles over my shoulders.

Her pussy is cherry against cream, the puffy flesh glistening. Mouthing at her thighs, I lap away the
honey coating her skin then Aaahhh… heated air over her vulva.

She convulses: ‘Oh, God….”

“Control yourself. You may not come yet.” Then I pump her again with a couple of fingers.

Her face straining forward, “Master…”

“I said, no.” Then I push my hand to her face. “Taste yourself.” Opening her mouth, she sucks at the
fingers. “Now tell me what you taste of.”

Her brow makes a vee. “Taste of? I don’t know, Master.”

Dipping inside her again, I recoat index and middle fingers in her juices, then offer them back to her
mouth. “Taste yourself, then tell me what you taste of.”

This time she sucks, eyelids dropping a little in thought. “It’s a little acid. Citrussy perhaps, But musky
too. And salty.”

“That’s better. And that’s what I taste when I drink from your pussy, which is what I’m going to do now.

Her breathing increases and her head drops back to the pillow.

“Open your legs wider. You can rest on my shoulders.” Her weight presses through the soles and as I
drop my mouth to her entrance, she shudders. Quickly I speak again. “You may not come. Not until I
say so.”

“I’ll try, Master.” But her voice is shaky.

“You’ll do better than try. If you come before I give you permission, I’ll punish you.”

The shudder runs through her again, but she lapses into silence save for the sound of her panting…

How far to take her?

Force her into a punishment?

Let’s see…

From the bathroom, Michael silently enters, his hair wet and a towel slung around his hips. He raises a
finger to his lips as, taking a seat, hands folded on his lap, he settles to watch.

Splaying her open with a spread hand, I wrap my mouth around engorged flesh; outer lips tumescent
with arousal. Deliberately breathing heavily, I bathe her in my heat. Her weight shifts as, mewling, she
strains, her body curving as her pelvis rises. But I pin her, a hand pressed hard inside each thigh, fixing
her position as she tries to writhe, I lap at her bud. Still hooded, still protected, and yet her cries grow
louder. Thumbing back the fleshy cover, I take a second or two to enjoy the view; her clit, so small a
thing, a tiny erect spike, just begging to be tormented.

With my tongue-tip, I trace a circle around and then over, revelling in the salty piquant taste and the
slight resistance of her flesh against mine. She wails, hips jolting, and her rising orgasm trembles
through my palms.

“No… You may not come.”

“Master… I can’t…”

“You can. And you will.” And I draw my tongue in a long smooth stroke through the length of her. And
again. Her pussy is wide, swollen and fluid, and as I delve deep, swiping and lapping and licking, she
pulses, throbbing flesh carrying the promise of a crashing orgasm…


Drive her over the edge…

Withdrawing just for a moment, I repeat. “I haven’t given you permission to come.”

Her voice rising half an octave, “Master… I can’t….”

And I return to her clit, aiming for the sensitive spot she has to the base, probing, massaging and
working her.

She bucks, then abruptly stills, although still straining, and I look up to see Michael across the bed,
grinning as he pins her arms above her head. “Let’s see how obedient you can be to your Master.”

Draw it out…

Ramp it up…

She’s flooding, shaking violently and I back off, allowing the tension to ease for a few seconds, then
taking her clit between my lips, inserting fingers inside her, I both suckle and fuck her, deliberately
taking her to the point of no return. Her answering moan is a long, extended gurgle.

Michael’s voice again. “Your Master has not given you permission to come.”

“Oh… God…” Her voice is edgy, broken…


Muscles humming like violin strings, hips quivering to an ever-rising cadence, she’s brinking. Scalding
fluids spill over my hands and all the while I continue my torture of her clit until with a howl, she surges
into climax.

She can’t move. Michael has her pinned at one end. I have her at the other, still mouthing on her bud,
grinning inwardly at her mounting howls. “Enough, Master. Enough!”

I release my hold on her clit, instead dropping to her pussy, plunging in my tongue, swiping out spirals
against her pulsing core.

She wails and screams and yells, but I don’t stop, and have no intention of quitting until…

“Red!” she shrieks. “Red!”

And I release her, standing back, my cock quivering upright, to watch my mermaid convulse her way
through the paroxysm of orgasm. Michael releases her wrists, also standing, his towel protruding to the
front. He rubs the back of his head, eyes creasing as he watches her.

As she relaxes, he resumes his spectator’s seat, thumbing me to her.

Charlotte’s eyes open; shift to mine and she stretches out her arms, smiling and beckoning to me. She
twists on the bed to lie knees akimbo, hips tilted, welcoming me with her body in a way that constricts
my breath and tightens my balls.

Fuck… Yes….

Cock throbbing, I kneel between her thighs, anchor myself to her entrance…

This isn’t going to take long…

… drawing the moment out as long as I can. Across the room, Michael, his head inclined as he silently
watches, strokes his own erection. His colour is high, a sheen on his forehead.

Slowly, so slowly, I sheathe myself. Fully inside her, the faint echoes of her climax still pulse; a faint
repeating suction that draws the blood to my shaft and sets my heart jackhammering. Biting down, I
resist my own release.

I essay an experimental thrust…

And another.


No… not going to take long at all…

… and another. Charlotte’s hands are around me, grasping my buttocks, moving with my rhythm but
pulling me tight inside her with each stroke.

Harder I take her, and faster, driving in deep. The Rush is coming; building. Her legs swing up and
around me, locking around my waist until, in an overload of erotic pleasure, I Come into my Jade-Eyes.

I think I groan. Hips winding as I erupt into her, I spurt once, twice, thrice. Then seeing Michael
standing by, my thigh muscles burning, arms trembling, I withdraw, tumbling off to one side.

She starts to move, but Michael says, “Stay on your back.”

I drag two breaths, enough to clear the stars from behind my eyes, then lie on my side to watch as
Michael, now straddling her, offers his cock to her mouth. She reaches and he cradles the back of her
head with a hand, supporting her, guiding her movement.

Jaws straining, she takes him.

Sometimes he lets her control it, choosing the pace, letting her suck and lick. But this time he’s simply
using her; face-fucking her, albeit carefully. He doesn’t force himself in deep, making her gag and he
breaks off every few strokes to let her swallow. But his cockhead, purplish and shiny with engorgement,
is as large as could possibly be comfortable for her as he uses her mouth.

“Lips over teeth,” he says… “Now close your mouth a little.” Then he eases himself in and out against
the pressure.

Michael’s breathing is heavy and for a moment he pauses, staring up at the ceiling, then, “I’m going to
shoot in a minute. You’re going to get some in your mouth, and I want to see your throat working when
you swallow. And I’m going to finish over your face. Got that?”


“Good girl.”

He straightens up a little, looking down, watching himself, her lips wrapped around his shaft. After a
moment he stops thrusting, instead positioning himself with the head poised just inside her mouth,
stroking himself into her with one hand, still supporting her head with the other.

I don’t generally notice his eyes, although Charlotte comments on them occasionally, but just now, and
so close, I see what she means. Deeply, intensely blue, nonetheless, the colour is being swallowed by
the pupils; as though eclipsed, only an azure corona around a black heart.

With a grunt, he judders and spills, cum shooting and spilling between her lips and over them. “Lick it
up,” he says.

Her tongue works, swiping around her mouth and over the still-pumping head. Glutinous stands of cum
draw sticky trails as she sucks and laps and swallows. At the last, he tugs himself free to wipe the last
of his trickling seed over her nose and cheeks, before releasing her to flop flat down on the bed.

Her eyes are sparkling. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he says.

It sounds… odd…

Am I missing something?


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