her more.
She was becoming his obsession, and Sergio had no idea where that would lead. The situation was fraught with danger for them both. If what they were doing were to become known, she would be turned away without a reference, and his reputation would be sullied. He had only just begun to get commissions from members of the landed gentry to teach their children to dance, as word of his skills spread beyond the newly rich. To be known as the dance master who seduced one of his employer’s housekeepers would be the end of his current career.
Yet he couldn’t stop thinking of her, wanting her time and smiles, to hear her voice. Wanting to take her body in every way he could imagine, and perhaps to expand beyond the imaginable into new and even more licentious acts.
He wanted all of her.
The thought brought him to a standstill in the middle of the pavement, his heart thudding with the realization that somehow, somewhere, she had become of tantamount importance to him. There was nothing else he could think of right here, right now, that seemed even slightly significant in comparison. Madre di Dio , was this love or just the intensity of lust?
Sergio didn’t know. All he could feel was his need for her, like molten silver, burning through his veins. And there was only one thought that stood out in his head.
Whatever it took—the loss of reputation, family, the very life from his body—he would have her. Take her over and over until he understood what he was feeling, until he could make sense of it and decide what to do.
Chapter Seven
The days had crept by, each minute like an hour, each hour passing with the slowness of a year.
Somehow Jane had made it through, comporting herself with enough of her usual aplomb that no one questioned her or even seemed to notice she was, in fact, totally and irrevocably changed.
Sergio had awoken in her such a torment of desire she hardly knew what to do with herself, hardly remembered who she was supposed to be or how to act the part.
Yet, as she forced herself not to hurry but to walk at her usual pace toward her sitting room, she knew her ability to dissemble was what had allowed her to carry on. Inside she quaked with indescribable hunger, her craving for Sergio a constant thrum between her legs and heat deep in her belly. Any moment not taken up with a chore was filled with the delicious memories of the dance master’s tongue on her slit, his cock in her mouth. At night, as the household lay slumbering around her, she relived every second of their encounter, touched herself until she exploded in ecstasy. Without those nightly releases, she sometimes thought she’d go insane.
And if he denied her today, she still may lose her mind.
She hadn’t gone to the minstrels’ gallery, knowing the sight of him would completely undo her. Already she was so wet for him that her thighs slipped one against the other as she walked. Her padding was wet with perspiration, for as the day progressed and the time they were to meet got closer, waves of heat rushed over her skin until it felt as though she were suffering from a fever.
Finally she was at her door and slipped into the quiet of her sitting room. Even this place, which used to be her little sanctuary, no longer felt the same. How could it, when it had been the scene of such abandoned behavior? Prior to the Friday before, the room had seemed the staid, prim epitome of all a housekeeper of spotless reputation and morals could wish for or aspire to. Now as Jane, with shaking hands, prepared the pot and set the tea table, she thought there wasn’t a bawdy house in all the Empire with an atmosphere as lustful as this tidy little place.
Glancing at the clock, she realized she was, once again, early. She had rushed through her chores, kept everyone on their toes. So much so she had gotten a nod of approval from that old bastard Grimond, who liked to see everyone “step lively”, as he was wont to say.
Looking at the door, at
She was becoming his obsession, and Sergio had no idea where that would lead. The situation was fraught with danger for them both. If what they were doing were to become known, she would be turned away without a reference, and his reputation would be sullied. He had only just begun to get commissions from members of the landed gentry to teach their children to dance, as word of his skills spread beyond the newly rich. To be known as the dance master who seduced one of his employer’s housekeepers would be the end of his current career.
Yet he couldn’t stop thinking of her, wanting her time and smiles, to hear her voice. Wanting to take her body in every way he could imagine, and perhaps to expand beyond the imaginable into new and even more licentious acts.
He wanted all of her.
The thought brought him to a standstill in the middle of the pavement, his heart thudding with the realization that somehow, somewhere, she had become of tantamount importance to him. There was nothing else he could think of right here, right now, that seemed even slightly significant in comparison. Madre di Dio , was this love or just the intensity of lust?
Sergio didn’t know. All he could feel was his need for her, like molten silver, burning through his veins. And there was only one thought that stood out in his head.
Whatever it took—the loss of reputation, family, the very life from his body—he would have her. Take her over and over until he understood what he was feeling, until he could make sense of it and decide what to do.
Chapter Seven
The days had crept by, each minute like an hour, each hour passing with the slowness of a year.
Somehow Jane had made it through, comporting herself with enough of her usual aplomb that no one questioned her or even seemed to notice she was, in fact, totally and irrevocably changed.
Sergio had awoken in her such a torment of desire she hardly knew what to do with herself, hardly remembered who she was supposed to be or how to act the part.
Yet, as she forced herself not to hurry but to walk at her usual pace toward her sitting room, she knew her ability to dissemble was what had allowed her to carry on. Inside she quaked with indescribable hunger, her craving for Sergio a constant thrum between her legs and heat deep in her belly. Any moment not taken up with a chore was filled with the delicious memories of the dance master’s tongue on her slit, his cock in her mouth. At night, as the household lay slumbering around her, she relived every second of their encounter, touched herself until she exploded in ecstasy. Without those nightly releases, she sometimes thought she’d go insane.
And if he denied her today, she still may lose her mind.
She hadn’t gone to the minstrels’ gallery, knowing the sight of him would completely undo her. Already she was so wet for him that her thighs slipped one against the other as she walked. Her padding was wet with perspiration, for as the day progressed and the time they were to meet got closer, waves of heat rushed over her skin until it felt as though she were suffering from a fever.
Finally she was at her door and slipped into the quiet of her sitting room. Even this place, which used to be her little sanctuary, no longer felt the same. How could it, when it had been the scene of such abandoned behavior? Prior to the Friday before, the room had seemed the staid, prim epitome of all a housekeeper of spotless reputation and morals could wish for or aspire to. Now as Jane, with shaking hands, prepared the pot and set the tea table, she thought there wasn’t a bawdy house in all the Empire with an atmosphere as lustful as this tidy little place.
Glancing at the clock, she realized she was, once again, early. She had rushed through her chores, kept everyone on their toes. So much so she had gotten a nod of approval from that old bastard Grimond, who liked to see everyone “step lively”, as he was wont to say.
Looking at the door, at
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