Serving Madame: Monsieur’s Turn - eBook

Serving Madame: Monsieur’s Turn - eBook
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Lady’s maid Ada adores her French Mistress and serves her with affection in every possible way. But Master will also take his pleasure from Mistress, and Ada will continue to offer her loving service to Mistress and Master when it is…Monsieur’s Turn.



Ada shifted the logs, stoking the fire, when a soft noise prickled her ears. The sound fluttered through the room, like a butterfly in the breeze, sweet and filled with promise. She knew that noise. That was Madame’s moan. She’d recognize it anywhere. She looked around the room, searching for where the noise could have originated from.

Had her love-sick mind invented the sound? An echo of the passion she’d given Madame here before, rumbling around the empty space.

The noise echoed through the room again, a little louder. The deep throaty sound vibrated through her. There’s no way her mind could create something that sensual and arousing on its own. That moan had to be real.

Ada dropped the logs, leaving the fire to tend to itself. She turned, searching for the source of the noise. A sliver of light split the opposite wall. The door between Madame’s chamber and Monsieur’s quarters lay open. The door stood ajar only a crack, just enough to allow sound and a little light through.

She inched her way to the door, as if led there by some unknown force. Her heart beat fast and heavy in her ears. Her whole body shook as she stood beside the partially open door, spying into the other room. She couldn’t look away.

Monsieur’s bed was massive, occupying most of the room. The soft candle light reflected off the white sheets. Two bodies on the bed moved together across the mattress. A man’s smooth back emerged from the sheets, his dark hair tumbling down to his shoulders. A woman’s leg twisted out from the sheets, curling around the man’s hips as he thrust into her.

A whimper echoed from the room and Ada focused on breathing. She knew who was on the bed. Without seeing the face of the woman attached to that leg, it had to be Madame. Those soft moans and equally beautiful skin could only belong to one person. The man with her must be Monsieur.

Ada knew she should walk away. Madame and Monsieur would not appreciate her spying on their intimate moments. But Madame’s cries and deep breathing called to her. This was the closest she’d been to Madame in weeks, and Ada couldn’t walk away from her near naked body, her flesh flexing and contracting beneath Monsieur’s thrusts. 


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