Page 3 of Her Royal Master (Master Me #1)

D arius

A llegra was fucking beautiful—if that was her name.

Way prettier than any prostitute could ever be.

I loved the sight of her sprawled naked on my bed.

Her youthful body practically screamed to be violated.

A pair of perky tits taunted me, their peachy tips beaded up, ready to be sucked.

Her flat belly led down to her neatly trimmed mons, followed by a pair of sturdy thighs.

American thighs. Definitely not Italian.

I had to admit, I liked the fear on her.

Not the panic she’d had over choking back in Kaspar’s room, but the intelligent wariness she wore now. Her lips parted, but no words came out. She wore little makeup other than lip gloss, and she didn’t need it.

Her full, lush mouth and plump lips made my cock ache to be inside. I’d train her to deep-throat me like a champ.

Only because I needed help controlling my lust, I pulled an old t-shirt out of my drawer and tossed it to her. She wasn’t in my room for sex.

If I’d had any doubt she was a prostitute, the speed with which she snatched it up and pulled it over her head would have dispelled it.

“Talk. Or else I call Samson in here and you find out how he deals with stowaways.”

She swallowed. “Who’s Samson?”

I gave a sharp shake of my head to let her know I wouldn’t be distracted. “Who. The fuck. Are you?”

She sucked her lower lip into her mouth. “I’m Allegra’s roommate. Allegra was sick—food poisoning or something, and Marina showed up and convinced me to come instead.”

“Bullshit. You’re a reporter.”

She blanched, and something in my solar plexus twisted. I didn’t want her to be the paparazzi, even though I knew she had to be. The way she pressed her lips together in a firm line was all the answer I needed.

“Baby, there are only two ways this can go.” I stalked over to her.

“You can come clean, sign the nondisclosure agreement and I’ll let you stay.

I might even let you collect your five grand.

Or Samson will throw you overboard. I’m not kidding.

You think the Halsburg family fucks around with paparazzi scum? ”

No, I didn’t really plan to let Samson know we had a reporter on board, because he actually might do something unsavory to her, especially after the Madison debacle last year.

But if she signed the NDA, I’d be a perfect fucking gentleman and keep her in my room, so she didn’t have to whore herself out to the testosterone-laden group of frisky boys. I’d even keep my cock in my pants.

Unless she asked for it.

She looked too young to be a reporter. Oh Jesus. What if she wasn’t even eighteen and this was a police bust? Or a setup through the paparazzi to catch us on statutory rape? “How old are you, anyway?”

“Twenty-four.”

I believed her. Mostly because her face was an easy read. I thought I’d know if she was lying. “Are you with law enforcement?” I just had to be sure.

Her surprised scoff appeared real. “No.”

“But you’re a reporter.”

She rolled her lips together, and her eyes darted around the room. Yeah, very easy to read. Definitely a reporter. “What’s your real name, and who do you work for?”

The voices of my cousin’s buddies sounded down the corridor. “Let’s get the fifth girl. Why does Darius get to take one for himself?”

Fuck. I hadn’t locked the door.

I moved before I knew I meant to, launching onto the bed and rolling her to one side to smack her ass.

The sound of the slap rang out, almost as loud as her shriek.

Nothing like a real squeal for authenticity.

I slapped again. She gave another cry of protest. Though I was acting for show, my cock took it all for real, her cute squeals making me sprout a chubby.

“Darius!” One of the idiots bellowed outside my door.

I looked down at her beautiful, startled face, the question in her eyes, the flush of her cheeks. Her nipples tented my worn, thin t-shirt.

Lord, help me. She was turned on, too?

I didn’t mean to—but my body moved of its own accord. I fell on her, pinning her wrists above her head, claiming her mouth with a brutal kiss. Her lip gloss tasted like strawberries. “Get lost,” I shouted in my native language as one of my hands shoved the hem of the t-shirt up over her breasts.

“What are you doing?” She sounded breathless. Her struggles were feeble at best.

The door banged open, and I stamped my lips on her mouth, smothering her protests, angling my body on top of hers so they’d only see her legs and squirming body beneath mine.

I tongued down her neck with hot, open-mouthed kisses, nipped her shoulder.

I gave them a good show, bringing my hand to cup her mons.

She was wet. If she hadn’t been, I would’ve kept it as a farce, but finding evidence of her arousal flipped me.

The little troublemaker liked being manhandled.

A kick of lust shot through me, making me forget everything but making her body sing.

My fingers sought her folds, the heel of my hand grinding on her clit.

Her hips jolted off the bed, but I swallowed her gasp with another demanding kiss.

“Well that’s hot,” Robbie, the wild son of an English earl, said in his crisp accent. “Can we watch?”

I both hated them there and loved it, because now that I had the American beauty finding pleasure pinned beneath me, I never wanted to let her up. Not until she went hoarse screaming my name.

I screwed my middle finger into her entrance, nearly groaning when she grew even more wet. The boys were laughing and jeering behind us, exchanging stories about the things I’d done to women that were only half true.

I wormed a second finger inside her and stroked her inner wall, seeking the infamous G-spot.

There. A button of tissue wrinkled and hardened beneath my fingers.

Her eyes went wide, and she whimpered, moisture leaking from her.

Breaking the suction on our lips, I threw a furious look over my shoulder, like I was pissed at being interrupted.

“Get out,” I growled in Austrinian to Kaspar.

“Keep your fucking friends out of my room.”

Kaspar grinned, his hero worship of me making him see what I portrayed—a selfish prick who wanted to keep a girl for himself. “ Ja, cousin. Enjoy.” He winked and pulled the door closed.

I stopped my seduction but didn’t withdraw, my fingertip still nudged inside her, my body pinning hers to the bed, her wrists caged in my hand.

“What was that?” she asked breathlessly.

She smelled sweet, like honeysuckle and ocean breeze. I didn’t want to climb off. You couldn’t have paid me to set her free. A beautiful, inexperienced and nervous woman whose body plays perfectly to my hand. I wanted to keep her.

I meant to reassure her, tell her she was safe from Kaspar and his boys, but what came out was something altogether different. “That was me staking my claim on you.” I dragged my lips across her neck and continued my slow stroking of her inner wall.

Her eyes dilated, turning glassy with pleasure. “I had to give them a show,” I spoke against her skin.

She exposed her throat, tipping her head back with a soft moan.

“Do you want me to go on?”

“Wh-what?”

“Are you enjoying my touch, little reporter? I can take away the ache between those beautiful thighs of yours.”

“Do I have a choice?”

I frowned. Yes, she may have come here under the pretense of being a whore, but I’d be damned if I ever took a woman against her will. “There’s always a choice, baby. Say yes if you want me to rock your world.”

Her swollen lips parted on a gasp and she arched, rolling her clit against my hand. “Your fingers are already inside me, and now you’re asking for consent?”

I grinned. “I call it the power of persuasion.” I continued the stroking. “All you have to do is say yes .”

She panted. Conflict warred in her expression.

“Just your pleasure this first time. Not mine. I want to see you come apart at the seams.” I don’t know what made me call this a first time , except the fact that now that I’d drunk from her lips and felt her supple, squirming body beneath mine, I wanted to possess her in every way. Wanted to own her, mind, body and soul.

She rolled her hips again, her whimper making my cock as hard as stone. “I don’t know what rabbit hole I fell down today,” she rasped, sounding breathless, “but I’m pretty sure I’ve lost my mind.”

“Not yet. But I’ll make sure you do,” I promised. My need to rule her world pushed at me from all sides, a consuming desire to watch her control fall away, to teach her, to tame her.

“Yes,” she gasped.

I moved in for the kill. Releasing her wrists, I placed her hands on her breasts. “Pinch your nipples. If you move your hands from your breasts, I’ll punish you. Understand?”

“Yes… yes.” She arched her breasts into her own hands.

I shoved one of her knees up, pumped my fingers faster. My mouth locked onto her clit, sucking the tiny nub.

Her free leg turned frantic, bending and extending beside me on the bed as she jacked her hips up off the mattress, squirming and wriggling. Her ragged cries grew louder until she screamed, her hands tangling in my hair.

I pumped both fingers at the same time, and flicked her clit with my tongue.

She came, her scream echoing off the wood-paneled walls of my bedroom.

Write about that, little reporter.

~.~

C helsea

M ind. Blown.

Yeah.

After the best orgasm of my life, I went limp, my limbs feeling like they’d turned to rubber.

What in the hell just happened?

One minute I was being interrogated—threatened, even—by the dangerous Duke of Halsburg, then suddenly he was putting on a show for everyone, and then… whoa . What guy starts his seduction with his fingers inside you?

Darius Halsburg apparently. No wonder they call him a devil.

And as much as I thought I should’ve hated it, I freakin’ loved it. As in, Yes, you can tie me up and whip me, as long as you do that routine one more time. Because a girl shouldn’t die without experiencing that.