Chapter Forty Eight
Raleigh
Bolts of pain assault my brain, jolting me awake with a scream. Pinching my eyes back shut at the sudden brightness assaulting them, I grit my teeth against the pain and bury my hands in my hair, squeezing as if the action will give me some sort of a reprieve. A moment later, I hear a door open and the sound of feet shuffling, but I can’t bring myself to open my eyes to see who it is, the pain in my head seems to be the only thing that I can focus on right now. The shuffling stops, I feel a slight pinch in my arm, and then…
Stretching my arms over my head, I release a groan, my entire body aching with the movement. Keeping my eyes closed, I try to remember what I did last night that would have left me feeling like I’d been hit by a MACK truck.
A smile forms on my lips when I remember exactly what I’d gotten up to last night. I gave myself to Lincoln and it was so much better than I could have ever imagined. Yeah, it was painful at first but he was incredible, doing everything that he could to make it as painless as possible for me.
I feel a twinge between my thighs, a delicious ache at the memory of him filling me, his big, strong body covering mine as he lost himself in the pleasure of my body.
My throbbing head is forgotten at the memories, my nipples harden, my clit aching for attention as I replay our lovemaking over in my mind. My hand wanders down my body, beneath the band of my panties until my fingers find the juncture between my thighs, a gasp leaving me when I make contact with the sensitive bundle of nerves.
“God,” I moan, my hips pushing up, seeking something that isn’t there as I work my fingers against my clit.
*Do you want to cum, Babygirl?* I imagine Lincoln taunting, as he sinks two fingers inside of me, his eyes dark and hooded.
“Yes.” Using my thumb on my clit, I push my index and middle fingers inside of myself and find that I’m already soaking wet imagining Lincoln between my thighs, pleasuring me.
*That’s it, Babygirl, make yourself cum, soak my fingers. That’s the only way that you’re going to get my cock.” Slipping my free hand beneath my shirt, I find my breast and pinch my nipple, imagining that it’s him taking it into his mouth, sucking the bud into a tight peak, and then toying with it with his lips, teeth, and tongue.
*That’s it, my beautiful Babygirl, I can tell you’re close. Cum for me.* As if my body is following his instruction, as soon as he says the words, my orgasm washes over me, his name falling from my lips as I shudder through the waves of pleasure.
The sound of someone gently knocking on the door, startles me, pulling me from my dirty thoughts. Quickly, I pull the covers up and over my body, trying to hide the evidence of what I just did from my brother as I hear the door open.
Shooting my eyes towards the door, two things occur to me.
The first is that this isn’t my room.
The second is that the woman who is stepping through the door is most definitely *not* one of my brothers.
“Oh, good. You’re awake. My master will be so pleased,” she says with a gentle smile. “I’ve brought you something to eat. You must be starving.” She closes the door behind her, does something with the door handle, and then slips what I suspect to be a key into her pocket as she makes her way over to me, a tray of what I assume is the food that she’d mentioned in her hands.
“Where am I?” I ask, my gaze searching the room for anything familiar. “Why am I here?”
“You don’t remember?” She asks, her head tilting to the side, as she takes me in.
“N-no,” I stutter, my heart pounding in my chest as fear begins to take over. I scoot up on the bed, shifting into an upright position, not liking the vulnerability that lying down in front of her makes me feel.
“You were in an accident. My master found you and brought you here so that you may rest up.” As she says this, she sets the tray down on a little bedside table that I hadn’t even noticed and gently sits on the edge of the bed. “May I check?” She asks, gesturing to my head.
It’s at that moment that the ache in my head intensifies as if to remind me of the intense pain that I’d felt when I'd woken earlier before I must have passed back out.
Shrugging a shoulder, I mutter, “I guess not.”
I take her in as she reaches up and gently begins parting my hair, a hiss of pain escaping as she begins to prod around what I assume to be the injury. She is older, but not too old, probably in her fifties. She has light blond hair that's swept back from her face in a bun at the nape of her neck. Her tall, slender frame is covered in a black and white maid uniform and my brows furrow at the thought that people still actually make their help dress like that. But then I remember that she also referred to the person that she works for as her *Master* and that kind of pretentiousness makes me roll my eyes.
“This wound is pretty deep, probably from hitting your head. I have some wound glue that I’ve used on the youngest master when he has gotten into skirmishes, that should close it up and leave minimal scarring.” As she says this, she gets up from the bed and makes her way over to the doorway. She fiddles with the knob once more, and then she turns back to me, her hand resting on the doorknob as she glances at the tray at my bedside, “I won’t be long, but please try to eat. You need to keep up your strength in order to heal.”
Then, she opens the door and leaves the room, the wooden door shutting quietly behind her.
My stomach grumbles at the thought of the food, but I can’t make myself reach for it, confusion filling me over why someone would bring me to wherever here is, instead of to a hospital.
When she returns, she glances at the untouched food. A frown pulls down her lips, but she says nothing as she locks the door behind her and then closes the distance between us.
“What’s your name?” I ask, wondering what I am to call her.
“I’m Julia. And what is your name, dear?” She asks, likely to distract me as she begins working on my headwound.
Another hiss leaves me as she applies some kind of liquid and I pinch my eyes shut as the stinging causes my entire body to tense.
“I’m so sorry, I wish it weren’t so painful. But, we need to clean this wound before closing it up, so that it doesn’t become infected,” she tells me and then begins to gently blow on the area, her cool breath easing the pain only slightly.
“My name is Raleigh,” I say after a moment, in response to her question. “Where am I?”
“The Master will be home this afternoon and will explain everything to you at that time,” she says, glancing at me and giving me what I’m betting is supposed to be a reassuring smile. But it’s not, not at all.
A shutter rolls through me as I glance about the unfamiliar room, dread filling the pit of my stomach.
*Why won’t she tell me where I am?*
*Why does she lock the door every time she comes in or leaves the room? Am I not free to leave whenever I want?*
*And who is this* Master *that she keeps referring to?*
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