The Haunted (Sleeping with Monsters Book 1) (10 page)

Daphne
walked outside reluctantly. It wasn’t that she didn’t want this, it was just
that she felt like it was going to be up to her to proposition him. It was one
thing in the window, separated by space and glass – this was different. It was
real. Someone could get hurt.

Jason
followed her, half a step behind, silent. She wished he would talk, but then
what? What if he said the wrong thing? Silence was better, even if it gave her
too much space to think.

Her
heart started beating doubletime as the outline of the stable emerged beyond a
copse of trees. It was noon, the sun was beating down, the shade inside would
feel so cool – especially if she were naked. She glanced over at him and saw
him watching her, that same even gaze he’d used all day, weighing, measuring.
She felt hotter than she had any right to be, and something inside her shivered
at the thought of touching his skin, and felt the parts of her that she wanted
him to be in lightly squeeze. She had no right to be ready for sex again this
soon, not after last night. But instead of satisfying her, the Master’s cock
had only made her aware of how often she was starving.

They
reached the stable and stepped inside. It smelled musty and old but not bad,
and scattered piles of hay were dry.

“Have
you seen the old workshop yet?”

Daphne
shook her head.

“It’s
probably not safe to go up there –“ he said, then grinned. “So we definitely
should. Come on.” He jerked his chin at a narrow stair and started taking steps
up two at a time.

Daphne
followed him. This wasn’t how she had planned things – if she could have been
said to have planned them at all.

“It’s
the old man’s workspace – where he created all that ‘art’ inside your house.”
Jason said the word mockingly. “But maybe he just needed an excuse to get out
of his house. It’s not like they had TVs out here back then. Who can say.”

Daphne
stepped up behind him and looked around. There were shelves of tools, neat and
orderly, rows of metal things hanging against the walls, just where the Master
had left them. Like he would come back at any time.

And
there were half formed carved blocks here. More of the statuary, similar to
what was inside, only still straining to get out. Figures of angels and demons,
struggling not only with one another, but with the wood they were left trapped
in, without the Master’s freeing hand. Daphne stroked a finger in the dust over
the nearest statue, tracing the curve of an angel’s wing.

“I’d
seen this place before – but I’d never seen any of the finished ones before
today.”

“You’d
never been inside of the house?” Daphne looked over at him.

“No.”

“Why
not?”

He
snorted and grinned ruefully. “No one ever invited me in.” He looked at her
meaningfully, and then took a stronger stance, separating his legs like he was
a drill instructor.

“So
just what did you want done out here?” He looked directly at her and she
swallowed.

“Are
you going to make me ask for it?”

His
eyebrow quirked, and his lips subtly pursed. “I’m afraid I am going to need to
hear it out loud, yes. I’m not in the habit of assuming I can fuck my employers
– or letting them fuck with me.”

That
set her off her game. “Does this happen often enough you need a policy?”

“You’re
not the first rich lady to think she owns me,” he said, his eyes studying her
hard. Daphne was suddenly disappointed in herself for being so trite, and her
shoulders sagged, which he noted and shook his head in admonishment. “You are,
however, the first to fuck me through a window. Which I admit greatly
brightened my day.” He took a step closer to her and her breath caught in her
throat. She could smell the sweat of his day, the green grass he’d been cutting
earlier hovering around him like an earthy perfume.

“You
do want this, don’t you?” he asked her, eyes dark.

“Yes,
please, yes.”

His
full lips parted into a smile. “Good.”

There
was a tangle of clothing. He pulled her shirt up over her head, exposing her
skin for his hands and his mouth found hers as she reached for his shirt,
pulling it out of his jeans. He was taller than she was, as tall as Richard,
and it was easy to rock with his kisses, to let his tongue into her mouth and
taste the eagerness to have her there.

She
ran her hands down his smooth chest and felt the muscles bunch as she did so,
him shuddering like a stallion, knowing his turn – their turn – was about to
come.

He
picked her up easily and dropped her into a nearby pile of hay. It poked and
scratched at her until she squirmed to smooth it and then his mouth found her
ear, her collarbone, and the musky weight of his body was so close. She gasped
a sigh for him and a rough hand reached under her bra to feel her breast, then
pull it up, showing more of her to him, his tan skin against hers so pale and
white. His afternoon old beard grazed her on his way down, following his trail
of kisses down to where his mouth took in her nipple and sucked at it, sending a
bolt of electricity straight between her thighs. He moved from one breast to
the next, kissing, touching, the roughness of his beard, the softness of his
tongue, until his hands found the edge of her skirt and folded it up just like
her bra and pulled her panties down.

Being
kissed on her clit by a stranger was just like being kissed on the mouth by
one, surprising, strange, unexpected yet comfortable. She looked down at him,
seeing his dark hair bob between her open thighs, and she moaned as his tongue
traced up her folds, lapping at her hidden spots.

“Oh
– oh yes – “ she ran her fingers across his scalp and arched to claw them up
his back before relenting to the sensation of his tongue, and he purred every
time she groaned, her hips beginning to twitch in his wake.

Jason
pulled himself up and kicked off his shoes and shoved down his pants – but not
before retrieving something from his pocket. She heard the sound of the
wrapper, but it took her a moment to place what it was, as she saw him reaching
for his hard cock.

“No
– don’t.” She pushed his hands away, and he eyed her warily.

“Why
not?”

“Because
–“ And here was the part where she would sound crazy. “I don’t want you to use
one. I want to have a baby.”

“No
way –“ he said, leveraging himself further back.

“No
– really. My husband – we’re trying, but it’s not working out, and – he’ll
never know. I’ll never tell him. I’m rich, you said it yourself -- but this is
the one thing I can’t buy.”

“There’s
ways –“ he said, shaking his head.

“They
take so long. And…they’re not this fun.” She took her hand away from him and
put it on his shoulder. “Please.”

His
hand holding the condom wavered. And then slowly, ever so slowly, he set it
down. Sensing he’d decided, she wordlessly leaned up and took her bra off, and
then lay back.

He’d
been taking his time before, but he took even longer now. He pulled his jeans
all the way off, and then lowered himself back down beside her, his body
aligned with hers, and pulled her to him, onto her side and hip, pulling her
leg over his side. And when he entered her he watched her face like he was
trying to memorize it.

He
didn’t fuck her – instead he rocked with her, kissing her, holding her close,
and Daphne thought if there really was a way to make sure you had a child, this
was it. She bowed her head in and let him hold her, breathing him in, hoping
this moment would take. She didn’t want to come – would that be a betrayal? To
who? Was there anything left to betray? – but she felt the friction building
inside of her, his gentleness stoking an already emberous fire. She started
panting in his ear and she could tell he was holding himself back, waiting for
her to release first – her hands held onto his shoulders and she bit her lips
instead of crying out because it was like it didn’t count if she could keep the
sound inside.

He
felt her though, her pussy squeezing him tight, and his hands cupped her ass,
bringing her closer – she felt him thrust into her and then gasp out as he
came, his hips spasming into hers before slickly parting, and they were two naked
strangers holding one another again.

“Thank
you,” Daphne breathed out, trying to keep her legs closed.
Please work.
Please, please.

“You’re…welcome,”
he said. The emotions on his face were hard to read, and he seemed unsure.
Which was a good thing, wasn’t it? She didn’t want a child with someone who
always thought they knew what was right, like Richard did.

“You
do this sort of thing a lot?” she asked, not sure if she really wanted the
answer.

“You’re
not my first rodeo. But the baby thing – that’s new,” he said, shaking his head
lightly.

“I’m
sorry. I so appreciate it – this –“ she touched his chest carefully. Despite
what they’d just shared, there was a gulf growing between them now. “My husband
is gone a lot.”

His
brow furrowed. “I’m not sure if I should say I’m sorry to hear that or not.”

“Me
either. But thank you. I mean it.”

His
eyes studied hers a moment more, and then he reached up to stroke her hair back
from her forehead. “You’d probably better get back now, before Arthur gets
worried.”

She
nodded. She wanted to keep his cum inside her – and more than that, keep him
there – but she stood nonetheless. He followed her up, pulling her skirt down
for her and dusting the hay off. She pulled her underwear up demurely and
tugged her bra back on while he reassembled himself not that far away.

They
descended the stairs, looking much the same as they had when they’d gone up,
only now a little sweatier, with secret smiles.

“When
will you know if it takes?” Jason asked.

“Soon,
I hope. A few days.”

He
nodded, licking his lips. “What if it doesn’t?”

“Then
–“ she looked at the ground, afraid to ask for what she wanted again.

“Your
husband is gone a lot, isn’t he?” Jason said.

“He
is.” Relief blossomed inside of her, right beside hope.

“So
then…we’ll see.”

She
gave him a tentative smile. “We will.” She danced backwards, like one of the
high spirited horses that used to stay here, sending a long forgotten riding
crop spinning away from one foot. It caught her eye and she chased after it,
picking it up, all while Jason watched.

“What’s
that?” he asked her, still looking at her like she was something strange – but
also lovely.

Her
eyes cast on the crop’s braided sheath and dusty leather end, then she smiled
at him. “It’s a souvenir,” she said, and practically skipped home.

Arthur
wasn’t waiting for her when she got back, which was perfect. She raced upstairs
to her bedroom and closed the door. Maybe, just maybe – she threw herself onto
her bed and cupped one hand to her belly.

Did
the Master know what she’d done? Would he forgive her? She raised the other
hand with the whip in it – she thought she knew how to make him.

“Ma’am?”

Arthur
knocked on her door, rousing her from a light nap.

“Yes?”
Sleeping was good, it gave her a reason for disarray, other than her interlude
in the barn. She still smelled a little like dust and sweat, and even though
she ought to, she didn’t want to wash it off.

“Dinner’s
going to be a little late. The milk’s gone bad, and I need to go into town to
get more for Mrs. Dudley.”

“That’s
okay – I can eat a sandwich, honestly…” Daphne got out of bed and crossed the
room to the door. “Unless – Arthur – I want to go into town with you.”

“Really,
Ma’am? There’s not much to it.”

“No,
I want to. Please. Give me five minutes, and I can meet you by the front door.”

“All
right.”

She
changed clothing quickly, then went into the bathroom to brush out her hair and
spritz on perfume. It wasn’t like she’d know anyone in the town, and yet she
felt she must meet a minimum standard for decorum. As the mistress of the house
– if anyone still remembered it was here – she felt presentability was expected
of her.

Returning
to her room, she smoothed the sheets, and placed the riding crop squarely in
the center of the bed. An offering for her dark god, herself the future lamb.

Pleased
with this, she trotted down the stairs and found Arthur waiting. He bowed, and
escorted her into his car.

The
driveway wound and curved and she felt an almost physical pang as they passed
through the final gate, leaving the house’s land behind.

“How
many grocery stores are there in town?”

“Just
one. It’s more of a market. That’s why we have to go now, they close after
six.”

“Oh.”
Daphne chewed on her lower lip. “What about other stores?”

“There’s
a feed and tack store, a gas station, a hardware store, a few antique stores,
and one small diner. And…that’s about it, I’m afraid.” Arthur sounded genuinely
apologetic. “People come here to leave the hustle and bustle of the city
behind. That’s why it’s such a good place to raise children. It’s so safe out
here.”

Daphne
nodded deeply. There was another reason she hadn’t showered after sleeping with
Jason today. She didn’t want to wash his cum away, not when she was praying so
hard it would take.

Arthur
parked outside the market. It was hardly bigger than her house’s library. “I’ll
just be a moment. Or, would you like to come inside?”

The
market was on the ‘main’ street, apparently along with every other storefront
Arthur had named for her. “No – I’m going to go look in some windows.”

“All
right, Ma’am. I’ll be back in a little bit.” He grinned at her. “Don’t worry, I
won’t leave without you.”

Daphne
hopped out of the car and walked down the street. There were a few people out,
and she heard the sussuration of cars zipping past on the road, off to more
interesting places to be. She peeked in the windows of the hardware store and the
diner, and then walked over to the nearest antique store. There were shelves
and shelves of knick-knacks, carefully arranged and gathering dust. She opened
the door and a bell chimed over head as she stepped inside.

“Hi,
can I help you?” a woman asked, her voice preceding her.

Daphne
looked up and was surprised to see a small blonde woman her own age. She’d
assumed everyone in town was as ancient as Arthur – even if Jason had already
proven her wrong.

“Oh,
I’m just looking,” Daphne said.

“Passing
through?” the woman guessed.

“No
– I just moved here last week.”

“Really?
A new neighbor! Did you buy the place up on Westridge?”

“No
-- the house around the bend --” Daphne was sure the house had a name, but she
didn’t know what it was yet.

The
woman’s eyes widened in excitement. “With the long driveway and the stable out
back? I hadn’t heard that it sold! About time!”

“You
know about it?”

“Of
course! My aunt used to work there!”

It
was Daphne’s turn to brighten. “That’s amazing – can I meet her? I’d love to know
the place’s history –“

The
woman made an apologetic face. “We can ask her, but it’s hard to say how
helpful she’d be. She’s at a nursing home near the coast, she has Alzheimer’s.”

Daphne
put a hand to her chest. “Oh, I’m so sorry --”

“Don’t
be, you couldn’t have known,” the blonde shook her head and smiled. “Did the
prior owners empty it out?”

“What?”

“A
lot of big estates, the families just get overwhelmed – or the places are so
big, things just get lost, things that used to have meaning just go and get
left behind.” She pointed to their surroundings. “Sorry – professional
curiosity.”

Daphne
snorted. “I think it’s a little of column A, a little of column B. There’s
statues everywhere, like they were too heavy to bother with, and some dressers,
some beds so big I think they were just assembled inside of the room – they
could be there from the 1800’s. But your aunt probably knew more than I did –
she probably told you stories, right?”

“Oh
no – she was always quiet about the place. I think she believed in
servant-employer privilege.”

“Ha,
well. Even if Arthur told anyone anything in town here, there’s not so much to
tell.” Daphne fought back a flush. What if the good people of Hillsdale found
out all the things she and the Master had done? Then the boldness she’d had
this afternoon with Jason returned to her. Let them.

“I’d
love to see up there. Especially if the furniture – if you’re redecorating,
you’ve got to let me know first. Please don’t send anything to the dump –“

“I’d
never throw away so much history.”

The
blonde offered her hand out. “A woman after my own heart. I’m Beth.”

“Daphne,”
Daphne smiled and shook.

“Let
me give you my card –“ She picked one up off of the desk and turned it over to
write on the back. “That’s my cell phone. Call any time.”

“Thank
you so much,” Daphne said, and meant it. “You’re sure your aunt never said
anything about the house? Anything at all?”

“She’d
never let me up there. It’s funny – I was the same age as that girl who died.”
Beth said, then winced. “You did hear about that, didn’t you? I know it was a
long time ago – I hope someone told you – oh my gosh --“

“I’ve
been told.”

“Oh
good, phew.” She shrugged helplessly. “Any time I asked my aunt about the place,
she just said something about it not being safe. I always assumed it was under
construction – you know how big houses are, there’s always something needing to
be done, loose nails and belt sanders. And I was a pretty hyper kid – maybe she
was worried I’d run amuck and break things.”

Daphne
cast a meaningful glance at all the china in glass display cabinets. “Clearly,
a valid fear.”

Beth
laughed, and Daphne liked the sound of it. It’d been so long since she’d
laughed – since she’d had someone to talk to who wasn’t Richard or Arthur.

“Come
by for lunch tomorrow? If you can take it off, that is --”

Beth’s
smile grew from ear to ear. “I’ll have to ask the boss – oh, wait – that’s me
–“

Daphne
grinned. “Twelve – and I promise to give you the full tour.”

“Sounds
lovely,” Beth said, and Daphne waved through the glass window as she left the
store.”

She
mulled over the conversation on her way home, and told Arthur Beth would be
coming over for lunch. She pulled out the other woman’s business card, and
found that it had Beth’s last name.

“Did
you know a Hetherington?”

“Oh,
Mrs. Hetherington? She worked with the new family, exclusively. I’d retired by
then – she never knew the Master.”

“If
they were the new family, what are we Arthur? The new-new family?”

“You’re
the current family in residence,” he said, overly grand, and she snorted
lightly.

They
arrived at the house, and when she went upstairs to shower and change into clean
clothes for dinner, she found that the riding crop was gone.

Mrs.
Dudley finished making dinner quickly and Daphne ate it just as fast. The
second she heard the servants leave and the alarm turn on she ran upstairs to
her bedroom and took off all her clothes.

“Where
was I last night? Show me?” The riding crop was still missing. Unless Mrs. Dudley’s
knees had suddenly gotten better, she thought she knew who had it. “I want to
see it with my own two eyes.”

There
was a strange sound from somewhere else in the house. She stilled, wondering if
she’d really heard it – if it were mice, or raccoons, or burglars.

The
sound came again. Closer now. And the sound of a foot in the hall.

Crack
– she found she could identify it. The sound of leather hitting flesh, steady
as a metronome, coming nearer, nearer, the steps louder and closer, until the
cracking of the whip and the thump of the man who carried it was right outside
her bedroom door.

Daphne’s
breath caught, trapped again between panic and exhilaration. He would show her
where the dungeon was in his own good time – but she had amends to make with
him first.

The
bedroom door creaked open, but the light inside hardly crept out. She thought
she could see him there in the shadow, standing, waiting for her. Animal
instincts rose in her, the urge to flee sending a bitter stripe across her
tongue. She owed him this, she knew, for her dalliance with Jason, but she was
still scared by the prospect of it – and of being cornered in here with him.

So
she ran.

She
rushed past him at the door, only barely, she felt his heat there, taking up
all the room, but she pushed through, and then ran down the hall nakedly – and
he chased after her. She could hear his footsteps behind her, three, two, one
step behind, and then
thwack
, across her ass. She yelped at the sting,
but kept running, in the dark and with whatever moonlight filtered in.

He
could have out run her, she was sure of it, and yet he didn’t, content to let
her race, hitting her with the whip as often as he could. Her heart was
pumping, her lungs hot, and her bottom burned each time the crop left a new line.

Eventually
she stumbled at the top of the far stair, running bodily into a statue’s stand.
It teetered precariously and she caught it before it could fall, her current
amount of adrenaline enough to haul it back into place.

Her
care for his house didn’t make him stop though.
Thwack, thwack
, the whip
bit into her, and she found herself clinging to the cold angel. He lashed her
again, and again, and she cried out into the folds of its angelic robes.

Finally
the sound of the whip stopped, and there was only her voice left, the small
defeated sounds she was making, even with him holding his hand. Then a clatter,
as the riding crop fell to the floor.

She
stayed where she was, letting the cool marble soothe her – and then hot hands
picked her up. She gasped in surprise as he lifted her, and let out a hiss of
pain as he set her sore ass down on the railing over the hall.

Panic
gripped her -- she couldn’t fight him now, she might fall back and dash her
brains on the tile – she hurried to wind her feet in the bars even as his hands
were pushing her knees wide apart. She felt like she might fall and screamed in
true fear, until he caught her, one hand around her waist, pulling her back up
like she was a dancer dipped too low. Then with his other hand, again, opening
her legs up, making her show herself to him, feeling him slide his hips between
her knees, and then the head of his cock probing in.

Daphne
couldn’t rock forward or pull away, the railing was narrow and her ass already
hurt – all she could do was stay still as he slowly pushed his way inside her.

“Don’t
let me fall –“ she whispered as he thrust fully in, pushing her fractionally
back. “Please, don’t let me –“

She
reached for the railing again, and found his hand, not just warm this time but
textured too, the feel of skin, the knots of knuckles – more substance than
she’d ever felt from him before. Her hand trailed up his arm to find his neck
and feel it solid where his shoulders met and slowly, so slowly, she started to
hold onto him instead of the railing.

She
clung to him, her arms around his shoulders and chest, as his cock slid in and
out of her – and then she unwound her legs from the railing and looped them out
around his waist, until her feet were intertwined. This was the most solid he’d
ever been with her – even moreso when his hands went under her ass and picked
her up again.