Alastair: An Alpha Billionaire Romance Read online

  “You’ll learn well from me,” he growls into my ear as he starts growing faster and harder, my honey seemingly endless as he pounds into me. His bucking grows less regular, and I realize by the low groan in his throat that he’s giving up restraint. This is who he’s meant to be, an unbridled breeding machine. And I’m his victim.

  “I’m yours, Master,” I gasp, and his hand brings my face to his, our lips locking as I feel his seed explode within me, filling up my tight, come-drenched pussy with hard, regular pulses.

  I had no idea what it would feel like. Sure, I’ve read about it before, but this is nothing like what I’d read about. It’s complete bliss, feeling his naked cock release itself, twitching and throbbing within me.

  I want as much as I can get of him, so I push my hips in time with him as he doesn’t stop bucking, even as he’s drained of all his masculine, virile, pearly seed. I want every last drop of it to fill me up, and nothing in me cares about the consequences. I just want him. All of him.

  And as suddenly as it came on, it starts to recede, the last of his seed entering me as his tongue washes over mine. He’s savoring my taste, and he opens his eyes to look at his willing victim. I bat my eyes as he smiles, wanting to look pretty for Master. And the glimmer in his eyes tells me I’m succeeding.

  But then I feel a slight sense of loss as he pulls out of me, some of his seed spilling out with his cock, and he zips himself up, turning and moving to his shirt and jacket to get dressed again, just like that. I’m still breathing heavily, naked, on the rungs of the ladder.

  “Your first lesson went well, Maisie. Under my tutelage, you will learn quickly how to please me. Do not speak to anyone about our private sessions. Your second lesson will take place tonight, after dinner. Go.”

  I’m stunned by how simple the statement is, yet the promise of more entices me. I swallow before I find my voice, remembering what he instructed me earlier. “Yes, Master.”

  He strides over to the fireplace, gazing silently into it as I get dressed in a hurry—or at least, as hurriedly as I can slip into the complicated lingerie. But within a few minutes, my heels are clicking on my way back down the lonely hallway, my head abuzz with...well, everything.

  I just gave my virginity to Lord Alastair. I’m not sure what’s shaken me up more—that, or the fact that I want more.

  4

  I spend the rest of the afternoon shadowing Beth and the other senior maid, Frannie, learning the basics of how to help run the Delaney house.

  They’re an old and sweet pair, and as we bustle around the house, I can’t help but feel like a daughter being doted on.

  “Oh yes, we’ve seen a lot of employees come and go over the years, decades, even! Especially since Lord Alastair has taken over the affairs of the estate.”

  “Tch, you make him sound so dour, Frannie. He really is an excellent young man. Talented, authoritative, knows how to keep the affairs of the family in order at home. We’re both rather proud of him.”

  “Of course, I just meant that he can come off as a little strict for some. But I can tell that you’ve got tenacity, dearie, I’m sure you’ll get along with him swimmingly! Especially if he’s speaking with you in private on your first day—he must see something special in you.”

  I guess you can call it that, I think as we set about preparing dinner. Tonight’s menu includes filet mignon and a side of roasted asparagus. I don’t even recognize some of the spices the maids are telling me to put into the meat, but I obey, feeling myself exceedingly conscientious of what I put into my labor. I know exactly why, too—it’s burning between my legs even as I bustle about, the promise he made to me making my heart pound.

  “Are you okay, dearie?” Beth asks, noticing my blush as I remember the feel of his cock. “You look a bit flustered.”

  “Oh, it’s nothing, just been quite a day!” I laugh off with a nervous smile, and she beams back sweetly. But while I’ve got the chance, I decide to take advantage of what information I can squeeze out of my new coworkers. “So I have to admit, I don’t know much about the Delaneys, but they seem to be famous around Surrey.”

  “Ooooh, you don’t know the half of it!” Frannie says, tending to the asparagus while Beth climbs up a tall shelf to retrieve an opened bottle of red wine with a date on it so old I feel my heart skip a beat. “He’s quite the philanthropist. Pours money into the community, holds charity balls every weekend it feels like, that sort of thing.”

  “Oh yes,” Beth chimes in, “bit of an old-fashioned type, Lord Alistair. Always had a taste for the Victorian life, he has, compared to his globe-trotting brothers,” she adds with a roll of her eyes.

  I nod, biting my lip. That was putting it lightly. The man has a library like something out of a fairy tale, but he looks more like a villain than a Prince Charming. “So, does he take his dinner in his quarters? Or will he be entertaining guests tonight?” I figure I’d ask, since it’s Friday, but the maids exchange looks with one another before turning to me.

  “Actually, dearie,” Beth says slowly, looking a little uncertain, “he instructed us to have you serve him in the dining hall—and that you’d be joining him tonight.” She smiles, resuming her usual upbeat optimism. “That never happens! He must really see some potential in you, Maisie.”

  I feel myself blush, and I bite my lip, glancing down at my outfit again. So he’s planning to have his new plaything dine with him. The thought sends a shiver through me, but not an unwelcome one. I feel a bit embarrassed that I’m going to be eating separately from the other staff, but well, it’s hard to turn down filet mignon.

  “Well I suppose that explains why I’m cooking double portions!” I say lightheartedly, and the other maids laugh, and the air is clear again as we bustle about.

  I find myself rather liking Beth and Frannie. They add a bit of much-needed life to the dreary manor. At least, life outside the flare of passion I have between my legs for Master.

  With a covered plate of our dinners on a literal silver platter in hand, I make my way through the door to the dining hall. Inside, my jaw drops once more.

  Red walls and curtains pop out against the gold ceiling and moulding of the long, spacious room, and busts of various unfamiliar faces stand between huge windows that stretch from floor to ceiling. There’s a fresco on the ceiling, depicting nymphs bathing in a refined yet borderline lewd manner.

  There’s a long, ebony table in the center of the room with silver candelabras every few feet, luxurious dining chairs lining the sides. Every one of them is empty except one.

  Lord Alastair sits at the head of the table, his cool eyes watching me like a lion watches a gazelle wander into his territory. It’s careful, but there’s a certain hunger to it I can’t ignore.

  “Timely as ever, Maisie,” he remarks bemusedly, leaning back in his seat and crossing his legs, gripping the arms of his chair as he gets comfortable.

  I make my way towards him, and I set the platter before him, lifting the cover and smelling the sumptuous meal I prepared for him. For us. The wine bottle is on the platter as well, and in an automatic motion, I uncork the bottle and pour his glass, filling it until he puts up a hand calmly for me to stop. It’s quite full by that time. I wonder what kind of a drinker he is.

  I move to start to pour my own, but he puts up a hand again, and I give him a perplexed look. “None for you,” he says calmly. I feel a little ashamed for presuming I’d be drinking the same wine as him, but I nod, blushing, and I stopper the bottle and set it aside before sitting down and watching him patiently.

  “Well, don’t wait for me,” he says, an uncharacteristically casual smile on his features. “Eat up.”

  My heart is pounding so hard I’m worried he can hear it, and I think he can, but he’s scarcely sliced his first piece of meat off before he breaks the silence.

  “You’re surprised that I know so much about you,” he states in simple fact, and I look up at him, expecting the statement to be going somewhere. I can’t say he�
�s wrong. “I take care to study the people I invite into my domain, Maisie. You were particularly intriguing, but people are never who they are on paper. I will hear it from your own lips. Tell me of Conwy.”

  He speaks with such presumptive authority that I’m cowed a moment. His commands are not requests. I curse myself as I feel my heart flutter at how easily he sways my will, bending me to his.

  “Conwy is...well, I could say it’s idyllic, but I suppose that’s nothing compared to your estate. Master,” I add after a beat that he doesn’t miss. His attention is a steel trap, I swear. “But for Wales, it’s a beautiful countryside town. Towering old castle spires, rolling hills and mountains in the distance, beautiful view of the Irish Sea...and not much else,” I finish with a sardonic smile, to which he raises an eyebrow, chewing his meat as he listens. “Not the most opportunity back home.”

  Finally, he smiles, then gives a bit of a laugh, and I feel terribly embarrassed. Have I already made myself look like a fool in front of this highborn English lord?

  “You do this dour old place too much grace, Maisie,” he says, looking out the window into the night, the town of Rookswood glittering in the distance. “This manor is a glum corner of the country compared to the Welsh coast. I’ve been. The views of the sea are so breathtaking, you could lose yourself in them. Let yourself get swept up by the salty waves,” he muses, taking a drink of his wine before setting his glass down and looking at me.

  “I suppose the grass is always greener somewhere else, Master,” I say with a faint smile, and his eyes warm at the sight of it. That makes me feel warm between my legs. Something about this icy man’s approval does unexpected things to me.

  “Indeed. But your accent sounds unusual for Conwy. There’s a tinge to it, but the American is there. You’ve played it up, though—when did you leave your home in America?”

  I blush, not realizing how much he knows about me. “My mother is American. We moved here when I was ten, so I don’t remember an awful lot about it, I’m afraid.”

  “No, you’re rather happy with your new home, aren’t you?” he says, smiling at me. “The grass is always greener, right, Maisie?”

  I smile again, but a chill runs down my spine. Is he testing me? Looking for some kind of weakness in my background? As if reading my mind, his eyes narrow at me a moment.

  “I’m not trying to interrogate you, Maisie,” he says smoothly, taking a drink of his wine. “You seem rather tense. Come to me.”

  What is that supposed to mean? I swallow and stand up from my half-eaten dinner, walking over to him slowly until I come to a stop at his side, and he look up at me expectantly before nodding to...his lap. “Sit.”

  My eyes widen, but that seems only to delight him further. I lick my lips, looking down at his crotch, and I can see the bulge in there already growing. Yet it’s guiltily exciting to me that the mere potential for my ass to be pressing into him is making him grow. It spurs me on as I turn. I’ve never been very good at flirting, if this can even be called that, but something feels innately good about giving Lord Alastair a view of my ass as I bend it down toward his lap. I can feel him devouring me with his eyes, and his hands reach up to my hips, guiding me onto him.

  He’s so big and strong that I can’t help but feel like a doll in his grasp, so easily held and manipulated in his lap.

  He wraps one arm around my small waist, and the other goes to the glass of wine on the table. He picks it up and swirls it around a bit. “Chateau Lafite-Rothschild, 1892,” he says casually, and my eyes widen. I thought I’d glimpsed the label when Beth took it down, but I hadn’t realized exactly what this was.

  That glass of wine is probably worth about half a year’s pay for me, and that’s only a slight exaggeration.

  “A fine year, but I wanted something tasteful to commemorate your first night under my tutelage, dear Maisie,” he says, and I feel my cheeks going almost as red as the wine. “And the taste is...well, have a smell,” he says, bringing the glass close to me. Suddenly, it feels like he’s offering me liquid gold, but that much gold wouldn’t be worth as much. I inhale the aroma, and it smells like the finest, boldest wine with just the right hint of old wood. It makes my mouth water, and I can feel Lord Alastair watching me lust for it, feeding off my desire.

  “You want a taste.” Again, a simple statement from him. It’s like he was willing the sentiment into existence, and I can’t argue. I nod faintly, licking my lips. He lets his hand slide up to my breast, and he gives it a squeeze unexpectedly. Any one of the maids could come in at a moment’s notice, what is he doing?! “Use your words, Maisie,” he whispers into my ear, and my breath catches in my throat.

  “M-may I,” I stammer, “may I have a taste?” His hand slides down to my skirt, and he reaches under, feeling my naked lips wettening, and he sticks his finger into them, making me gasp.

  “Are those the words I trained you to use?” he asks, and I bite my lip, feeling his finger so dangerously close to my clit. I take a deep breath and try again.

  “Please, Master,” I say, my tone begging, “may I drink from your glass?” I feel his cock stiffen under my pussy, and I know I’ve hit the right answer.

  “Good girl,” he praises me, and before I can react, he reaches up and takes my jaw gently, bringing the wine to my lips. I brace myself as he tips the glass towards me, and I taste the wine washing into my mouth.

  It’s the most delicious taste I’ve ever had. Just the right blend of bold, strong flavor tinged with fruit that’s endured for over a century. I take in a breath as his stiff cock gives me just as much pleasure, my hand gripping his leg desperately as he keeps tilting the glass to my lips.

  My mouth fills, and I blush as I realize he’s pouring too much into me, but I swallow down as much as I can, a trickle of the wine running in a bloody trail down my cheek. Before it can drip down my jaw, he brings my face close and licks it from my cheek as he takes the glass away, and I feel a deep groan in his chest.

  “Not a drop wasted, Maisie,” he chides me, and I can feel his grin as the strong drink hits me. Damn it, I’ve always been a lightweight. He tilts the glass again, and as he strokes my pussy, he makes me drink more from the glass, which I do greedily, my instincts taking over all my senses, making me hungry for more of both. His fingering is incessant. The thought of his touch has been in my mind all afternoon, and it isn’t long before I feel my stomach tightening, and as his fingering gets stronger and more regular on my swollen clit, he draws the glass away and up, letting me see the last drop of it on the tip of the glass.

  My jaw hangs open, breathing quickly as I feel the inevitable roiling up in me, and damn it all, he can feel it in me, and he tilts the glass to let the last drop of wine fall onto my tongue just as I feel my orgasm roll through me, the bloody taste of the wine mixing with the ecstatic orgasm deliciously as I melt in his lap, my honey coating his fingers.

  As the orgasm subsides, I feel a dark chuckle in his chest, and he withdraws his fingers from my pussy and brings them to my lips as I lean back in his chest. My eyes are closed, but I taste my honey on my tongue as he puts his fingers in my mouth. I reach up obediently to grasp his wrist, licking every bit of my come from his fingers.

  When he finally lets his hand drop, I’m sitting on a hard cock as he strokes my hair. “Thank you, Master,” I whisper.

  “Something you should know, little American girl from Conwy,” he says, his voice almost menacing, “is that I reward my obedient pets well.” He guides me off his lap, and I have trouble standing as he gets up, finished with his meal. “Follow me,” he instructs, and I’m in no condition to argue as he leads me out of the room and down a series of hallways and staircases.

  Before long, he pushes an ornate door open, and I realize I’m in the master bedroom. My breath is stolen from me.

  The atmosphere of the all-wood room is shockingly warm compared to the rest of the house. The wood is a rich, hearty brown, and there’s a crackling fireplace on the far end of the massi
ve room, gray stone making a gorgeous hearth. The curtains are drawn over the colossal windows, but the centerpiece of the room is the king-sized four-poster bed in the middle, lavish purple sheets set enticingly.

  The maids had said that Lord Alastair’s quarters were strictly off-limits. My heart is pounding harder than ever, but my pussy is quivering with desire as he leads me into the room to the foot of the bed. I expect him to tell me to strip again, but this time, he merely gestures to the bed.

  “Shoes off. On your knees. Now.”

  The urgency underlying that low growl spurs me on, and I fumble at the clasps of my heels before I put my knees on the bed, crawling on it on all fours. The sheets are unbelievably comfortable, the mattress the softest thing I’ve ever felt. I could stand on my knees here forever, I feel.

  And the way Lord Alastair is glowering down at me, I fear that might be the case.

  “You might have another drink from my glass,” he says, undoing the front of his pants as he approaches the bed, and on pure desire, my body starts to crawl toward him, looking up demurely into his dominating eyes. “But you must beg for it, darling. What I would give you is finer than any expensive wine.”

  I let my lips part, my eyes shining in the firelight as I look up at him, utter need welling up in my gaze and my heart as his eyes hold me locked into place. My body arches, trying to entice him, but he smiles at me and makes me feel foolish. I know he has the upper hand here, no matter what silly games I try to play.

  Suddenly, I feel terribly self-conscious, and my eyes fall to his bulge, where his hands are slowly starting to withdraw that massive shaft. Surely he sees me as just another servant, some country girl who’s a dime a dozen. But then his fingers touch my chin, raising my gaze back to his eyes as he looks down on me with a face filled with desire.

  “I don’t give this fine wine to just anyone, darling,” he says, his voice a low husk, and as he speaks, he presses his hips forward, that massive crown brushing against my lips, and I feel my knees weaken with desire as my heart lifts at his praise.