Master Me Read Online Free

tried to make my laugh sound convincing. “You’re such a gossip, Adele! Nothing happened. He—ah—he was just asking me some questions. About Barrington, the Playhouse, you know, trying to get oriented.”
    “Oh really? So why are you all dressed up tonight?” My friend gave me an arch grin.
    “You’re impossible! All my jeans are in the laundry, that’s all.”
    Adele looked sceptical.
    “Look, if he were interested in me, wouldn’t he have sat here?” I indicated the empty chair to my right. “He hasn’t paid me the least notice all evening.”
    “You don’t sound too happy about that, either.”
    “Please! Don’t let your imagination get the better of you. Why would Geoff Hart care anything about someone like me?” Why indeed? “Have you ever seen a picture of Anne Merrill? She’s gorgeous. I’m not even remotely in his league.”
    “Come on. You’re brilliant and pretty, and you’ve got lots of talent…”
    “You’re sweet. But compared to what he’s used to, I’m skinny and awkward and inexperienced.” Especially when it comes to power games.
    “Well…if anything does happen, you’ll tell me, right?”
    I couldn’t help laughing at her eagerness. She had proudly revealed all the details of her past affairs with two of the stagehands only a day or two after we’d first met.
    “Nothing’s going to happen!” I gave Geoff a quick glance. Now he was involved in an earnest discussion with Arthur, who was listening intently. “Nothing at all,” I sighed.
    I wasn’t hungry but I forced myself to sit there through dessert and coffee—to act normal. It was Monday, our dark night, when the Playhouse was closed. Adele and some of the other cast members were going over to Rory’s, the pub on the other side of the green. If I’d really been serious about giving Geoffrey the brush off, I would have accepted Adele’s insistent invitation. Instead, I pleaded a headache. Then Geoff agreed to join them. For a moment, I desperately wanted to change my mind. Don’t give in, I told myself. He’ll just chat up all the local girls and make you feel miserable. Better to curl up in bed with Margaret Atwood’s latest and try to forget him.
    I headed for the stairs, exhausted by the emotional cartwheels I’d been doing. He caught up with me in the front hall. I smelled his cologne, felt his bulk behind me. His hands settled on my shoulders and I really thought, for a moment, that I’d faint from the rush of desire that touch triggered.
    “Sarah.” His voice was a caress.
    My frustration and resentment evaporated in the heat of my lust.
    “I see that you’ve made yourself more—accessible. Wait, don’t turn around.” He let his fingers wander along my throat, tracing my collarbone, then just grazing my taut nipples.
    I shuddered with delight.
    “Without a bra. Very good.” He gave the aching nubs a symmetrical squeeze.
    Pleasure sizzled through me.
    He moulded my hips, feeling for a panty line. “And panty-less, too! What a sweet, obedient slut!” He began to raise my skirt.
    I remembered that we were in a public place, that a cast member, another guest or a member of the hotel staff might wander into the hall at any moment. “No…” I moaned as he brushed his palm across my exposed bush.
    “No? You’d refuse me?”
    I felt a fingertip parting my curls, stroking my slippery outer lips. His gentle tap on my clit sent lightning up my spine. I went rigid, holding my breath, silently begging for more. The finger disappeared. His big hands smoothed my skirt over my buttocks.
    “No…” I tried to stifle my sob, but knew he wouldn’t miss it.
    “Meaning what? Are you mine or not?”
    “I—I don’t know.” I was desperate for his touch, but fear held me back. Not the fear of being discovered. The fear of what I might discover about myself.
    He twirled me round to face him. “An honest answer. I appreciate that. Just as I appreciate the fact that you’ve followed my instructions.