The sun was already climbing by the time Selene reached the de Morant mansion, a wash of golden light gleaming on its carved stone and dark slate tiles. Each step up the front path sent a pulse of aching pleasure through her hips and thighs—a constant, humiliating reminder of what had happened the night before. Her core was still slick, every shift threatening to send a trickle of Damon's cum down her inner thigh. She gripped her cloak tighter, doing her best to walk with the proud dignity of a lady of the house, but she could feel how her gait had changed—looser, slower, every muscle stretched and used.
The grand doors swung open as she approached. Two footmen bowed, eyes carefully blank, though she saw the faint flicker of curiosity in the one on the left. Selene nodded coolly and swept inside. The entrance hall was already busy—servants dusting, footmen hauling boxes, the butler overseeing the inventory with a thin-lipped frown. None of them looked at her directly, but she could feel the ripple of their attention. Everyone in the mansion knew who really kept it running.
She moved through the corridors with practiced ease, only pausing to answer a polite "Good morning, Lady Selene," from a chambermaid who scurried away before a real conversation could begin. Most of the staff were loyal to Lucien, the golden boy and heir—even if he was a useless layabout. But they respected Selene, and more than one servant quietly made sure her way was clear, opening doors or tidying away the messes Lucien's friends had left behind the night before.
She made it to her suite without incident, shutting the heavy door and leaning back against it, finally letting her mask crack. Her knees threatened to give out. She dropped her cloak to the floor and kicked off her shoes, sucking in a slow breath. The air was cool and smelled faintly of lavender—the one indulgence she allowed herself. It was her haven, her sanctuary. She padded across the plush carpet to her favorite velvet chair, sank into it, and sighed. The ache between her legs was sharper now that she was alone, the soreness blooming every time she shifted her hips. If she relaxed, she could feel a warm, slick trickle starting to slide down, and she shuddered, clenching tight. Her pussy throbbed, raw and used, but she couldn't help the little thrill that chased up her spine.
There was a soft knock. Before Selene could answer, the door swung open and Elise entered, balancing a silver tray with practiced ease. Elise was thirty-two, a widow who'd served the de Morants since before Selene's mother died. She'd raised Selene through awkward girlhood and into young womanhood, always the patient confidante and sometimes a sly co-conspirator. Her brown hair was pinned neatly, her blue eyes bright with a knowing warmth that made her seem both older and younger than her years.
"Welcome back, my lady." Elise smiled as she set the tray on the table, her voice gently teasing. "You kept us all waiting for your grand return. I brought your favorite—warm honeyed milk and those little almond cakes you like. I thought you might want a treat after… whatever it was that kept you away last night."
Selene couldn't help but smile, even as her cheeks heated. "Thank you, Elise. You always know exactly what I need."
Elise poured the milk, hands quick and sure, then handed over the cup with a little curtsy. "It's my job. That, and making sure you don't run yourself ragged keeping this place from falling apart."
Selene sipped, the sweet warmth soothing her raw throat. Elise watched her closely, a faint crease between her brows.
"Was it the Wet Deck again?" she asked quietly, settling on the edge of the bed. "Lucien hasn't come back yet. Word is, he was in rare form last night."
Selene exhaled, swirling the milk in her cup. "Of course he was. It's all he's good at."
Elise grinned, shaking her head. "The staff will be thrilled if he doesn't return until tomorrow. They were saying the butler might finally get a day of peace. And what about you? You didn't come home either. That's not like you, Selene."
Selene set her cup down, fingers tracing the rim. For a moment she couldn't speak, memory flooding in: Damon's mouth on her skin, the rough press of his body, the choker around her throat. She blushed, ducking her head.
Elise watched, eyes sharp. "You're not in trouble, are you?"
Selene shook her head, a little too fast. "No, no trouble. I… had company, that's all."
Elise's lips curved. "Company, hmm? Was he handsome?"
Selene's blush deepened. "Yes," she admitted softly.
"Was he good?" Elise asked, voice low and sly, her eyes dancing. "Or do I need to fetch the switch and teach him how to treat a lady?"
Selene nearly choked on her laughter, then caught herself and shook her head, a private smile on her lips. "He was… very good."
Elise's grin widened, full of wicked delight. "Well, well. About time. I was starting to think you were going to let all the best ones go to waste."
Selene rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress her smile. "It was my first time, you know."
Elise blinked, then her expression softened. "Was it as wonderful as all those stories I told you, back when you were still stealing cake from the kitchens?"
Selene bit her lip, memory spinning through her. "Better. It was… I didn't know I could feel like that."
Elise reached over and squeezed her hand. "I'm happy for you, love. A good lover is a rare treasure. Don't let anyone shame you for taking what you want."
Selene squeezed her hand in return, then tried to stand. Her body protested immediately—a deep, satisfied ache flaring through her hips, her pussy throbbing. She winced, swaying a little.
Elise's eyes narrowed. "Oh, poor girl. You're walking like you've been thrown off a horse. Come, let's get you in the bath before you seize up entirely."
Selene managed a weak laugh. "That might be a good idea."
Elise ushered her into the adjoining bath chamber, the tiles still warm from the morning sun. The bath was already half-filled with steaming water, scented with rose oil and something woodsy. Elise moved with efficient grace, unbuttoning Selene's dress, sliding it from her shoulders. As the fabric fell away, Elise's eyes widened.
"Oh, my stars." Her tone was more delighted than shocked. "He certainly left his mark, didn't he?"
Selene glanced down. Her body was covered in evidence: dark bruises on her breasts and hips, bite marks along her inner thighs, a ring of pink where the choker had pressed against her skin.
She blushed scarlet, covering her chest with her hands. "I… I forgot. I didn't—"
Elise just laughed, gathering up the dress. "No need to be shy, darling. Half the noble ladies in this city would kill for a night like that. You should've seen the marks my Antoine left on me the first time, God rest his soul."
Selene eased into the bath, sighing as the heat soaked into her aching body. Elise knelt beside her, rolling up her sleeves and fetching a soft cloth.
"He was that good?" Elise asked quietly, voice softer now.
Selene closed her eyes, sinking deeper into the water. "He was… more than good. He was… everything. I didn't want him to stop."
Elise smiled, dipping the cloth into the water and squeezing it out. She began to wash Selene's back, gentle and familiar. "A good man is rare. A good lover is rarer. If he's both, you hang on as long as you can."
Selene smiled, letting the warmth melt her, letting herself be cared for. "Is it always supposed to hurt like this after?"
Elise's hands paused. "Sometimes, if you're not used to it, or if he's… enthusiastic." Her tone was teasing. "I remember my first time after Antoine came home from sea, I could barely walk for two days."
Selene giggled, the sound soft and young. "He was very enthusiastic. And… big."
Elise snorted. "Lucky you. Most noble girls have to fake it their whole lives. There's a reason so many of them keep lovers, you know. A marriage bed isn't always where you find happiness."
Selene thought of her friends, the stories whispered over tea and pastries—lovers hidden in garden alcoves, secret rendezvous in the servants' quarters. Suddenly it all made sense. "So I'm not… strange? For liking it so much?"
Elise shook her head, squeezing her hand. "You're perfectly normal. Just careful, all right? This city will eat a young woman alive if she isn't smart about her secrets."
Selene nodded, closing her eyes, letting herself drift. "Thank you, Elise. For everything."
Elise washed her hair, massaging her scalp, humming an old lullaby. For a moment, Selene felt like a child again—safe, cherished, untouchable. The aches and worries faded, replaced by a sense of peace she hadn't felt in years.
Downstairs, the quiet was broken by the crash of a door slamming open. Lucien's voice carried up the stairwell, raw and angry.
"Where the hell is everyone? Who let those bastards take my gold? Useless, every last one of you!"
Selene tensed, eyes flying open. Elise rolled her eyes, her lips pursed in disgust.
"Looks like our lord and master has returned," Elise muttered, voice low.
Lucien's shouts echoed through the halls, servants scurrying to obey. He cursed, demanded breakfast, demanded his cloak, threatened to fire anyone who didn't answer fast enough. The staff moved quickly, but none could disguise the resentment in their eyes. Everyone knew Lucien would never lift a finger to keep this house running, but as the heir, his word was law.
Elise squeezed Selene's shoulder, offering silent comfort. "Ignore him, love. He'll be off to the gambling dens by noon. He only comes home when he needs something."
Selene nodded, sinking lower in the bath, trying to shut out her brother's voice. "I wish Father had left things different," she whispered. "It's not fair."
Elise finished rinsing her hair, then wrapped a warm towel around her shoulders, pulling her from the water with gentle hands. "The world rarely is. But you're stronger than you think, Selene. You keep this whole estate running with your wits alone. One day, everyone will see it."
Selene smiled, drying herself off and letting Elise fuss over her with clean linen and a new shift. "You're the only one who believes that."
Elise gave her a stern look. "That's not true. There are plenty who see you, who depend on you. You're the reason they stay, not your brother. Remember that."
Selene hugged her, holding on tightly. "Thank you, Elise. I don't know what I'd do without you."
Elise patted her back. "You'd probably fall asleep at your desk, forget to eat, and run yourself into the ground."
They both laughed. For a moment, the house felt safe again, the noise of Lucien's tantrum distant and unimportant.
Dressed in fresh clothes, Selene returned to her chair, sipping the last of her milk. Elise tidied up, tucking away the bath linens and smoothing the bed. The sun crept higher, warming the room, chasing away the last chill of night.
Below, Lucien's rage burned itself out. Eventually, the crash of furniture and slam of doors faded. The servants retreated to the kitchen, whispering bitterly about the useless heir. No one dared say it aloud, but all of them wished Selene was in charge.
Selene sat at her window, watching the city come alive. The ache in her body was fading, replaced by a sweet memory and the soft promise of more to come. She touched the spot where the choker had pressed against her skin, smiling to herself.
Elise slipped back in, hands full of fresh linens. "Anything else, my lady?"
Selene shook her head. "Just… stay for a while. Tell me about when you met Antoine."
Elise smiled, settling beside her. "It's a long story. But I suppose you have time, until the world comes knocking again."
They talked, voices low and conspiratorial, sharing secrets and laughter. Outside, the world spun on, oblivious to the quiet conspiracy between mistress and maid.
In that sunlit room, Selene found something she hadn't realized she'd lost—a sense of home, a sense of herself, a promise that she was more than any title or brother's shadow.
And somewhere, deep inside, the memory of Damon's touch lingered—hot, filthy, and full of power. She couldn't wait to feel it again.