#39
The soft sound of confident footsteps echoed on the polished floor, pulling William’s gaze toward the doorway. Evelyn stood there, framed by the morning light.
As usual, she was wearing her maid uniform. The uniform had a deep cut at the top, showing a generous amount of cleavage. Although there’s no requirement for her to wear that, actually, she still does. She calls it her battle dress or something, an armor a maid can’t live without.
William even found several similar-style uniforms in her closet, with only a few sets of casual and business outfits.
“Morning, Master,” she greeted, her tone warm but teasingly firm, the faintest smile playing at her lips. “You look like you barely slept.”
“Yeah, guess I did.”
Evelyn tilted her head slightly, an amused glint in her eyes.
“Then you’ll need a proper breakfast. Sit tight, I’ll handle it.”
William watched her move toward the kitchen, the faint scent of her shampoo lingering in the air. He smiled, unmeant. He relaxed on the chair and leered at her beautiful figure. His eyes drank in the view of her beautiful, thick thighs.
“Anything in particular you want?” she asked, glancing over her shoulder.
William shrugged lightly, his gaze lingering on the curve of her neck.
“Anything’s fine… maybe the usual coffee?”
Her lips curved into a knowing smile, warm and inviting.
“Got it.”
He leaned back in his chair, watching as she tied her hair up in a loose bun, exposing the soft line of her nape, then rolled up her sleeves with efficient grace. She slipped into motion like it was second nature, her movements fluid and assured in the sunlit kitchen.
Soon, the space filled with the comforting rhythm of breakfast preparation—the sharp sizzle of eggs hitting the hot pan, the gentle clink of utensils against porcelain, and the soft hiss of boiling water for tea.
Evelyn navigated the counter with practiced ease, flipping the eggs to a golden perfection, arranging thick slices of bread on a plate for toasting, and measuring out his coffee grounds with precise scoops. All the while, she kept up a casual conversation, weaving questions about his plans for the day amid the domestic symphony.
As he waited, a familiar restlessness stirred in William. He pushed back from the table and stood, his footsteps quiet on the tiled floor as he moved behind her.
Evelyn sensed his approach immediately, her body attuned to his presence like a well-trained instrument. She swiveled around smoothly, facing him with her hands still lightly dusted in flour.
“Is there a problem, Master?” she asked.
He met her eyes, his voice low and direct. “Is that going to be long?”
Evelyn’s professional composure flickered for a heartbeat, a faint crease forming between her brows. She glanced back at the stove, where the eggs bubbled gently toward doneness and the toaster hummed in anticipation of the pop.
She thought for a moment, a little confused by the question in this context.
“It’ll probably take some time…?” she said, the end of her sentence lifting into a question.
But not for long.
A wicked, possessive grin spread across his lips a heartbeat before his open palm connected with the curve of her ass. Smack. The sound was sharp, startling, cutting through the kitchen’s gentle noises.
A gasp was punched from her lungs, a mix of shock and pure, undiluted thrill. The sting bloomed across her flesh, a delicious heat that made her knees feel suddenly weak.
“Master!” she breathed out, her eyes wide.
He didn’t answer with words. His hands, strong and demanding, found her hips and spun her back around to face the stove.
In one fluid, powerful motion, he knelt behind her. The world narrowed to the feel of his hands on her, the view of the frying eggs forgotten, the hiss of the kettle fading into a distant white noise.
His fingers gathered the soft material of her skirt, hiking it up slowly, revealing the sheer black lace of her panties that hugged the swell of her ass.
The cool air of the kitchen kissed her exposed skin, raising goosebumps. A moment later, she felt him pressing his face into the delicate lace, into the very core of her.
Sniff.
It was a loud, intentional, deeply carnal sound. A raw animal inhalation that made her clench around nothing, a bolt of pure lightning striking straight to her clit.
He was inhaling her scent, tasting it through the fabric, and the sheer primal intimacy of the act shattered the last of her professional façade.
“God, you smell incredible.” his voice was muffled against her, hot breath seeping through the lace to warm her most sensitive skin.
His words sent another jolt through her. He nuzzled her there, his nose tracing the seam of her panties.
“Master, I’m cooking.”
A low moan escaped her, her hands gripping the cool granite countertop for support.
“Then, you should be careful. Try not to burn yourself, okay?” he said, teasing.
Evelyn rolled her eyes, but her lips curled upward. She endured the pleasure and excitement coursing through her veins and turned her focus on the pan in front of her.
Taking the first sunny-side up egg with the ladle and moving it to the plate, she cracked another to cook while William, her naughty master, seemed to be enjoying the smell of her crotch.
Suddenly, she felt him hook his thumbs into the sides of her panties. And then with deliberate movements, William divested her of her garment, revealing expanses of flawless skin, leaving her lower half bare.
Evelyn let out a pleasurable sigh.
She looked at her master and found his dark eyes glittering with hunger. Hunger for her. That made her feel good, and she bent forward, bracing her hands on the edge of the counter. The position left her utterly exposed, the glistening pink folds of her sex on full display.
William’s fingers began to gently caress the immaculate skin, sending shivers up her spine. His hands spread her apart, and his mouth was on her. Not tentative, not questioning, but with a hungry, claiming pressure. His tongue, broad and wet, lashed against her slit in one long, firm stroke from bottom to top.
Evelyn cried out, her head falling forward as her eyes screwed shut. The sensation was blinding. The flat of his tongue was relentless, circling her clit with a perfect, practiced pressure before dipping down to delve into her entrance, tasting her directly. He groaned against her, the vibration echoing through her entire body, making her hips jerk involuntarily.
It didn’t take him long before he settled into a rhythm, his hands clamping on her hips to hold her still as he feasted on her. Lick. Suck. Circle. His tongue was an instrument of exquisite torture, mapping every fold, seeking out every sensitive spot.
He’d flick the hard, aching bud of her clit with pinpoint accuracy until she was mewling, then plunge two fingers inside her, curling them to find that spot deep within that made her see stars.
“OhgodOhgodOh…”
The words were a broken mantra, lost in the sound of his devouring mouth and her own ragged breaths. Her knuckles were white on the counter.
The world had dissolved into sensation: the slick, hot slide of his tongue, the scratch of his stubble on her inner thighs, the overwhelming scent of her own arousal mingling with his cologne.
William added a third finger, stretching her exquisitely, the slight burn a perfect counterpoint to the building pressure in her core. He was driving her higher, faster, with a ruthless efficiency that showed how well he knew her body. She was hurtling towards the edge, her muscles tensing, her breath catching in her throat.
“That’s it,” he encouraged, his voice gruff and dark with desire. “Come for me. Come on my tongue. I want to taste it.”
His command was all it took. The coil that had been winding tighter and tighter deep in her belly finally snapped. A raw, guttural cry was torn from her throat as her orgasm crashed over her, a tidal wave of pure, unadulterated pleasure.
As the waves of her climax began to recede, leaving Evelyn boneless and trembling against the counter, William delivered one last, slow, sucking kiss to her oversensitive clit.
The wet pull of his mouth sent a sharp jolt through her, making her hips buck involuntarily as she gasped, her fingers gripping the edge of the sink for support.
He lingered for a moment, his tongue flicking teasingly against the swollen nub before he finally pulled back, the cool air of the kitchen kissing her exposed, slick folds in his absence.
She heard the rustle of fabric as he rose to his feet behind her, his presence a solid warmth at her back. His hands, large and steady, gently tugged her soaked panties back into place, the damp lace clinging uncomfortably to her throbbing pussy.
He smoothed her skirt down over her still-tingling skin with deliberate care, his palms gliding along the curve of her ass and thighs, as if savoring the aftermath of her surrender.
With a firm but tender grip on her shoulders, he turned her around to face him.
Her eyes met his, hazy with satisfaction and lingering need. His lips were wet and glistening, smeared with her arousal, a glossy sheen that caught the morning light filtering through the window. The sight of it—raw and unapologetic—ignited something primal in her. Without hesitation, she surged forward, pulling her master into a deep, hungry kiss.
Their mouths crashed together, lips parting in a messy, desperate clash.
Her tongue plunged into his mouth first, seeking out the tangy flavor of her own cum that coated his tongue. She licked at it greedily, swirling her tongue around his in a sloppy dance, tasting the salty-sweet essence of her release mingled with his natural warmth.
William groaned into her mouth, his hands sliding up to cup her face, thumbs brushing her flushed cheeks as he took control. He sucked on her tongue, drawing it deeper, then released it with a wet pop only to dive back in, his tongue thrusting against hers in rhythmic, insistent strokes that mimicked the way he’d just fucked her with his mouth.
Saliva slicked their lips, dripping slightly at the corners as the kiss grew sloppier, more feral. Evelyn moaned softly, her body pressing flush against his, feeling the hard bulge of his cock straining against his boxers.
She nipped at his lower lip, then soothed it with a broad swipe of her tongue, while his free hand tangled in her hair, tilting her head to deepen the angle.
Their breaths mingled in hot, ragged pants between the wet smacks of their mouths, tongues tangling and sliding in a frenzy of shared hunger. She could feel the vibration of his low hum of approval as he devoured her, claiming every inch of her mouth just as he’d claimed her pussy moments before.
Finally, they broke apart, a thin strand of saliva connecting their lips for a lingering second before snapping.
Evelyn’s chest heaved, her lips swollen and shiny, but William’s eyes burned with that familiar dominance, already shifting back to the casual authority of the moment.
“The eggs are cold,” he stated matter-of-factly, his thumb stroking along her jawline in a possessive caress, tracing the line where her pulse still fluttered wildly.
Breathless and utterly spent, her legs weak beneath her, Evelyn could only manage a whisper, her voice husky from the kiss and her recent cries. “I’ll make more.”
“Make some for me too,” came a voice from behind him, teasing and lilting with playful mischief.
Before William could turn in shock, slender arms slid around his shoulders, wrapping him in a sudden, enveloping hug. He stiffened instinctively, blinking in surprise as the familiar scent of jasmine shampoo wafted over him.
“Christina?”
He craned his neck, and there she was, her chin resting lightly on his shoulder, lips pulled into a huge, impish grin that revealed the dimple in her cheek. Her cropped hair, tousled from sleep, tickled his skin as she leaned her weight into him, her body warm and insistent against his back.
“Good morning, Lady Christina,”
Evelyn said with a polite nod, her composure snapping back into place as she straightened her apron, though a faint blush still colored her cheeks from the interrupted intimacy.
Whether she was surprised or not, her expression didn’t change, and she greeted Christina naturally as if nothing had happened just now.
On the other hand, William was worried and embarrassed. He was just seen by his sister eating Evelyn’s pussy. His face crumpled, not knowing what to do. But to the contrary of his expectations, Christina didn’t have any reaction at all. Other than the knowing, amused smirk on her face.
“Wash your face, Will. I’m not going to kiss you drenched in Evelyn’s pussy juice.”
“Kiss me?”
“What? You haven’t seen your sister for a long time, and no welcome back kiss?” Christina smirked.
William rolled his eyes, “Whatever.”
He walked toward the sink and started washing his face.
The water from the tap was cold, a stark shock to his system as William scrubbed at his face, trying to wash away the evidence and the sheer, unexpected tension coiling in his gut. He could hear the two women behind him, a rustle of movement and a low, intimate hum of conversation he couldn’t quite decipher.
A warm, solid presence pressed against his back. Christina. He didn’t need to turn around to know it was her. Her hands settled on his hips, her chin hooking over his shoulder again. Her breath was warm against his freshly washed cheek.
“All clean for me?” she purred, her voice a low vibration against his spine.
He turned off the tap and grabbed a towel, patting his face dry before turning to face her, his expression a mask of strained control. He turned around to face his sister. However, when her figure came into full view, his eyes widened in surprise.
Christina was topless. Not in lingerie, not even with the excuse of a loose shirt slipping down her shoulder—completely bare from the waist up, save for the sheen of skin kissed by morning light. Only a short skirt clung to her hips, riding high.
Her black hair gleamed, glossy and styled to perfection as if she had prepared herself for this moment despite her nonchalant air. Her breasts were full and perky, their natural cleavage the kind of line that could catch a pen if she’d wanted to demonstrate.
The curve of her waist flowed seamlessly into hips made to entice, her porcelain skin so smooth it looked like silk. And her eyes—those dark, mischievous eyes—seemed to drink in his stunned expression, as if that reaction alone was her breakfast.
“I, I didn’t know you were back.”
She just smiled, a slow, languid curve of her lips that didn’t reach her calculating eyes.
“It would not be a surprise if you knew.”
Her gaze flicked over his shoulder to where Evelyn was silently watching, her cheeks still flushed from her earlier climax.
“Eve, make me some espresso, please.”
“As you wish,”
Christina’s attention snapped back to William. She stepped into him, erasing the space between them. Her hands came up to frame his face, her thumbs stroking his jawline with a possessiveness that made him inhale sharply. “Now. About that welcome home kiss.”
“Chris, this isn’t—” he began, his voice a low growl of warning.
She cut him off, her voice dropping to a whisper meant only for him. “Don’t be a bore, Will. Did you not miss your sister?”
A slow, dark smile spread across her face.
And then, before William could answer, her hand shot out, wrapping around the back of his neck, not roughly, but with an undeniable force that made his eyes widen a fraction. She pulled him in, closing the final inch between them.
The kiss wasn’t gentle. It was a clash, a claiming. Her mouth slanted over his, demanding entry, and he gave it with a soft, surrendering gasp that was pure theatre.
Her lips were soft and mobile against his. He could taste the faint hint of mint on her tongue, a contrast to the lingering, musky sweetness of Evelyn that had been on his lips moments before. The combination was intoxicating.
He felt one of her hands slide from his face down his chest, her nails scraping lightly through the fabric of his shirt, leaving trails of fire in their wake. Her other hand tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss until they were both breathless.
When she finally pulled back, their breaths mingled in the quiet air between them. A faint flush colored her cheekbones, softening her usually composed expression.
“I’m back, Will,” she said, her voice low, carrying a warmth that lingered.
“Welcome home,” he murmured, exhaling a long, uneven breath—though whether it was out of relief, delight, or helpless resignation, even he couldn’t quite tell.
