Home > Servicing the Target (Masters of the Shadowlands #10)(22)

Servicing the Target (Masters of the Shadowlands #10)(22)
Author: Cherise Sinclair

Jessica, a formerly sweet wife turned demon, turned her glower toward the corner where Ben stood. “You…I liked you. I was wrong.”

The bulky shadow that was Ben seemed to shrink into the wall. He cleared his throat. “I’m going to just go…check on how the rain is falling and, yeah…”

As he left, Zachary glanced around. Anne had stayed. She gave him a firm nod that said she’d be available as needed. Her presence helped, but nothing could ease his fear. If anything went wrong, there would be no ambulance in time.

Jessica was already starting another contraction.

So much pain. Zachary curled his hand around hers, trying with all his might to lend her his strength.

When Jessica finally, finally, relaxed again, Fay asked, “You need to push, don’t you?”

Jessica nodded.

Fay said, “Let me assess how dilated you are. Then we’ll move to the bedroom where everything is set up.”

The examination resulted in more cursing from Jessica.

Fay announced, “You’ve reached ten centimeters. Let’s go.” She rose, taking Jessica’s underpants with her.

“Hey, I want my briefs on.” Jessica held her hand out.

“It’s time to leave them off, honey.”

“No. Put them back.” When Fay didn’t move, his beloved kitten turned her scowl to Zachary. “She’s being mean. Hurt her.”

“Easy, sweetheart. This will be over soon.” His sympathy earned him more fingernails digging into his wrist.

Fay grinned. “Now, Jessica, we both know you’ve gone without underwear before—or you wouldn’t need my services today.”

Damned if he didn’t feel guilty himself about his part in getting her pregnant. Before Jessica could respond, he swept her up. “To the bedroom.”

Even as he carried her, she went into another contraction, and he could feel her bearing down. “She’s pushing, Fay.”

“Good. It should go fast now.”

“God, this hurts!”

“I know, kitten, I know,” Zachary murmured.

Through a clenched jaw, she gritted out, “I know Masters are conceited, but by no stretch of the imagination are—you—God.”

He didn’t smother his chuckle adequately, and, as he set her on the bed, he barely managed to dodge her punch.

An hour later, having called Anne in to hold Jessica’s hands and support her shoulders, Zachary caught his baby as she exited the womb.

Blood-streaked with white vernix patches, her fair skin mottled, and a few wisps of blonde hair, she was the most beautiful little girl in the world.

As the midwife dealt with the umbilical cord, he could only stand and hold his child. So tiny and fragile. He’d forgotten how little they were upon arrival. How miraculous.

“Zachary?” Jessica called.

He had to blink the wetness from his eyes before he could carry his baby to her mother. “We have a girl, kitten. A perfect little girl.” Carefully, he set the baby in her arms and stole a kiss from his love. “Thank you for our daughter, Jessica.”

Her lips curved under his, and she whispered, “You’re very welcome, Master.”

A second later, the baby managed to find Jessica’s nipple, and she jerked slightly as the little girl latched on. “Whoa, and I thought nipple clamps were bad.”

* * * *

“We have a girl.” Completely, thoroughly exhausted, Anne dropped down on the other end of the couch from Ben. She’d slipped out of the bedroom to give Z time with his newly enlarged family.

“Halleluiah,” Ben said quietly. “I’m glad you were here to help them.”

“Actually, so am I.” She half-grinned. “I think Marcus won the betting pool though.”

“I was way off, by a good two weeks.” To her surprise, Ben handed her a scone and a glass of milk. “I raided the kitchen and grabbed these for you. Consider it breakfast.”

She glanced at the windows and realized the sun was well up. “I had no idea. Thank you, Ben.” When she took the first bite, her hunger wakened, and she finished it all.

Smiling, he took the plate and glass, set it on the coffee table. “I checked on the roads. Everything is open again.” He pulled Anne’s legs onto his lap and started kneading her bare feet.

Heaven. She’d had her feet massaged by her slaves, sometimes one male per foot, but this was the first time a man had simply done it without being directed. He used firm, powerful pressure, nothing like the tentative touch of the boys.

And she was turning into a happy puddle. She slid down farther on the couch. “You’ll never know how good that feels.”

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