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Sam forced herself to smile for the interested eyes she felt upon her, even though her mother’s curt dismissal and rejection of Sam’s help made her feel sick to her stomach. Emily Post frowned upon causing scenes in hair salons. And a proper lady always did what was mandated by good manners.
“All right, Mom. Enjoy yourself. I’ll be back at one.”
She leaned over to give her mother an air kiss then stalked out to the car, back straight and chin high. If her mother didn’t want her help, fine. She knew someone who did.
Her pussy warmed and her blood turned thick and slow remembering how much Master Giacomo wanted her. Too bad she had to drive all the way back home to pick him up before going to the library. There wasn’t any time to delay.
Although if he wanted to, it would serve her mother right if Sam were late. Especially since it now appeared her mother didn’t need Sam’s help nearly as much as she claimed. As Sam had secretly suspected, her mother used her weakness as a way to keep Sam nearby. But Master Giacomo really did need her.
She’d remembered what had been so important last night after she was back in her own room and her blood had finally cooled so that she could think again. She’d meant to tell Master Giacomo she was no longer going to submit to him. But things had changed.
He wasn’t just any old magically appearing, half-naked stud. No, he was cursed, trapped in a half-life between life and death. And she was the only one with the power to free him. By submitting to him and letting him give her pleasure beyond her wildest imagination.
It was a combination too perfect to resist. She’d had sex so good it transported her into another dimension and she didn’t have to feel at all guilty because she was doing it to help him.
Of course she did feel guilty. She felt guilty that she wasn’t giving her mother the time and attention she deserved. She felt guilty that she was using Master Giacomo’s situation for her own pleasure without being able to please him in return. She even felt guilty that she’d somehow summoned him without reading the book and so was completely unprepared for the situation.
But what she didn’t feel guilty about was submitting to a man as her Master. Not when that man was Master Giacomo.
Smiling, she pulled the car into the garage. Her steps light on the stairs, she ran up to the workshop.
Master Giacomo was just turning away from the window that overlooked the driveway. He was no longer bare-chested and wearing leather pants. Instead, he wore sharply creased khaki trousers and a lightweight linen shirt whose olive green tone looked fabulous with his Mediterranean coloring and carried a navy blue blazer slung negligently over one shoulder. His loafers were woven leather in an odd shade of greenish-brown that managed to complement both the khaki pants and olive shirt.
Her ex-husband had been obsessed with appearances. So she knew Master Giacomo was wearing extremely expensive designer clothing. He wore it well. But where did he get it?
“We go to the library now, yes?”
She smiled. “Yes. But what are you wearing? Where did it come from?”
“I do not wish to be expelled from the library for indecency.”
Sam grinned, imagining his reaction when he saw some of the likely library patrons. It was too late in the year for beach bunnies to be prancing about in their string bikinis, but a multiply pierced teen in torn low-riders would no doubt raise his eyebrows.
He frowned, his posture stiffening and the warmth fading from his eyes. “The clothes do not matter. I am still your Master. On your knees!”
She glanced at her watch. “We don’t have time—”
“On. Your. Knees!”
Sam dropped to her knees before him, eyes wide and her breath rapid. And damn it, already hot and wet for him. “Yes, Master. I’m sorry, Master.”
He glanced down at her, his nostrils flaring as he inhaled the scent of her arousal. He smiled, his stance softening slightly and the front of his khakis bulged outward with his growing erection.
“Unbutton your blouse,” he ordered.
With no hesitation, Sam obeyed, her fingers fumbling the tiny pearl buttons of her top. When the sides of the blouse hung free, she lifted her gaze to his, eager for his next command.
“Lift your breasts out of your bra.”
Trembling, she cupped her breast, her fingers brushing her nipple and sending lightning bolts of electricity skittering through her body. She caught her breath, feeling the heat throbbing between her legs. Carefully, she eased her breast up and over the shelf of the bra. Then she did the same for the other.
The elastic of the bra supported her breasts from beneath, lifting and stretching them while the shoulder straps pushed them together toward the center of her chest.
Master Giacomo sighed deeply. “Beautiful. So re
d. So ripe. And mine for the taking.”
He reached out and lightly squeezed one nipple. Sam arched her back, eyes shut and moaning in delight. Sticky wetness drenched her panties and she clenched her thighs together, but that only emphasized the throbbing pulse between her legs.
