Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 93751 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 469(@200wpm)___ 375(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93751 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 469(@200wpm)___ 375(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
She gave Hannah a sudden, impulsive hug. “I’m glad you’re here, Hannah.”
“Me, too,” Hannah replied, hugging her back.
Chapter 9
Mason sat at the small wooden table in the kitchen. He was on his third mug of coffee as he thumbed through his binder of recipes. Jaime, Mark’s slave girl, worked in The Enclave main office, where she handled the household accounts and financial arrangements for various Enclave events and programs. She suggested that she could type up his recipes for him so he could easily access them via an iPad.
Obviously, he’d dismissed the idea out of hand. Each of his recipes was handwritten, with notes, variations and observations in the margins. These were time-tested recipes, some based on ones he’d learned over the years from other chefs, others his own original creations. Many of the pages were stained with grease splotches, dried bits of food and even the occasional smear of dried blood from the slip of a paring knife. The sheets had character and charm, all of which would be lost if consigned to the digital pages of a tablet.
He flipped through the binder, pondering what he should make for tonight’s dinner and what he would need to get from the butcher and farmers’ markets later that afternoon. He also needed to stop by one of his restaurants down in Asheville to see how things were going with the new chef he’d hired the month before.
But his mind kept drifting, snagging on the woman Lucia had informed him earlier this morning had stayed the night down in the slave quarters.
He hadn’t seen her again over the course of the evening. Not that he’d sought her out. What would have been the point? Still, he’d been unable to put her completely out of his mind.
He glanced at the large wall clock above the double ovens. It was already after nine. Everyone who had wanted breakfast had already come and gone. Maybe Hannah wasn’t a breakfast person. Or maybe she was sleeping in.
What was his problem? What did he care if she was a breakfast person or a late sleeper? She was just an overnight guest, a tag-along with Anthony’s club manager, Charlotte. She wasn’t even into the lifestyle, not in any serious way. She’d probably just been slumming—gathering material for her novels.
And if he’d learned one thing in his life, it was not to get involved with a BDSM wannabe, however sincere they might be in their curiosity. He was way too old for that shit. If and when he took another slave girl, she would be fully trained, deeply masochistic and one-hundred-percent submissive.
Not that he was interested in getting involved with anyone. He was still licking his wounds from Ashley’s defection. It was his own damn fault. He’d been the one to encourage her to spread her culinary wings. He couldn’t really blame her for leaving him behind. She had her whole life ahead of her. He’d been the idiot—falling for a girl nearly half his age.
He looked up as Lucia pushed through the swinging doors, Hannah just behind her. “…already left for work, but Hans can take you down after you get a bite to eat,” Lucia was saying.
As the two women came into the kitchen, Lucia said, “Excuse me, Sir. I hope we’re not disturbing you.”
“No, no. You’re fine.”
He looked past Lucia to Hannah. She was in the same outfit she’d worn the night before and he liked the way it hugged her curves. Her dark hair was pulled back with some kind of barrette, no discernible makeup on her pretty face.
“Morning,” he said.
A faint wash of pink bloomed on her cheeks. “Morning,” she replied.
What was that blush about? Was she recalling that she’d been bare-ass naked, his fingers buried in her cunt only twelve hours ago? Maybe she remembered how she’d come so hard that she’d nearly passed out. He rubbed the fingers of his right hand together as he recalled the silky, wet slick of her cunt beneath them.
The memory was making his dick hard. He looked down at his binder as he got himself back under control. Without looking up, he said, “There’s still a little of the casserole from this morning, plus the usual fruit, yogurt, etcetera. I just made another pot of coffee.”
“Please excuse me, Master Mason,” Lucia said with her usual deferential sweetness. “I have positions training duty and I’m already a little late. Hans will be running Hannah back down to Asheville but he’s not heading out for another twenty minutes or so. If you could…?”
“You’re clearly busy,” Hannah interjected. “I’ll just grab a mug of coffee and sit on the veranda until Hans is ready.”
Mason jerked up his head, startled to realize he did not want her to leave. Not yet. “It’s fine,” he interrupted, getting to his feet. “You can go on, Lucia. I’ve got it under control.”