The Harlot (Taskill Witches 1)

Jessie looked at the minister for the first time. He wore a wide-brimmed hat and his head was lowered, which made it difficult to see him. Squinting in the gloom, she ducked a little, trying to catch sight of his face. Then the guard set his candle in a sconce outside the cell. The light filtered in and she was able to properly assess the build of her caller. He was a large man, tall and bulky around the shoulders, unlike any minister she had ever seen. He wore the long somber cassock of the church, true enough, and it was buttoned from collar to hem, but she spied a fine ring snaked around his little finger, and expensive leather boots on his feet—silver-buckled boots.

“Thank you,” the minister replied. “I will say a few prayers with the sorry lass, and I’ll call you when I am ready to leave.”

The guard nodded and lumbered off.

The other man kept his head lowered until the sound of the guard’s footsteps scuffing along the hallway faded. What little candlelight fell into the cell from the hallway beyond was not aiding Jessie’s quest to study his face, and she leaned closer, her curiosity rising by the moment. His jaw was solid, and when he turned his face to listen to the guard’s retreat, she saw his mouth. Wide and passionate it was, and scarred from one corner to his cheekbone.

Recognition flared in her. “That guard is a fool,” she whispered. “No minister would wear fancy boots such as those.”

“You have sharp eyes and an astute mind.” The man lifted off his hat, fully revealing his features.

Jessie’s interest grew. “I know you. You were at the inn when they came for me.”

“Yes, and I can get you out of here, in exchange for a favor.”

“A rescuer,” Jessie said, with a soft laugh. In truth, she did not need anyone’s help, but it suited her well. If he thought he could get her out of here, then there would be no need to use her magic.

He inclined his head. “With a price.”

“Ah, I see.” She would readily offer him her favors in return for such aid. Besides, he was an uncannily attractive man, despite the hard, assessing glint in his eyes and the scars on his face. His body was fit and strong, and he held himself well. He had the look of someone who had traveled abroad, as she often saw when the ships came in and the travelers alighted. The man whose custom she had been fighting for earlier was rich, but this one was also handsome, and looked potent, as if he could give a woman a good seeing-to.

Nevertheless, Jessie considered him cautiously for a moment longer. He had some money on his person, of that she was sure—and she would find out how much soon enough. Why was he doing this? He did not need to be gallant and rescue an accused woman in order to gain her attentions. There were easier ways to procure carnal gratification, especially for a man of his appearance. Why did he want her? Perhaps there was a secret thrill in the act for him, something to do with the nature of their current situation. He had put himself in danger, coming here in such a costume, especially when the bailie might return at any moment to question her.

At that very moment he glanced down the corridor, watchful for the guard’s return. Yet he did not seem overly concerned, and when he looked back at her it was with humor in his expression. Was he a man who liked a challenge? If so, she was the woman to give it to him.

With her hands on her hips, she approached him. In the candlelight his angular features were cast in leaping light and shadows. “I’ll pay your price, in exchange for my freedom.”

Before he had a chance to respond, she dropped to her knees and rested her hand over the bulge at his groin. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but paused, his eyebrows lifting as he realized her intention. She couldn’t help smiling. His plan must have been to take the tumble after the rescue. That would be safer, but rebellion pumped in her blood. Would he chastise her? Knock her hand away and hush her?

He had not stilled her hand, and his handsome mouth moved in a suggestive smile. She knew the signs well enough, and it appeared this man was not deterred by their surroundings. Anticipation for a taste of him made her blood pump faster. She would pleasure him right here in the tollbooth. Tightening her grip on his bulge, she gazed up at him. “You do not fear discovery?”

“I was aware it was a dangerous undertaking when I came here,” he responded, “although this was not quite what I had in mind for the order of proceedings.”

She’d been right about his intentions. Well, if he liked danger, he would surely like this. Shaking back her hair, she slid her hands beneath his cassock and ran them up the outside of his breeches as high as his belt, weighing his purse briefly in her hand as she did so. It was impressively heavy, even more so than she might have guessed from the quality of his boots.

“You’re a wild lass,” he commented.

“That I am.” Again she ran her hand over his groin, her cunny tightening when she found his bulge had grown bigger and was now hard and ready for her within the confines of his breeches.

“You are large, sire,” she whispered, a teasing note in her voice.

“And I grow larger by the moment under your skilled fingers.” His gaze was on her breasts and his body was taut with lust.

She laughed softly and moved her hands around his thighs, measuring and squeezing them. The muscle was strong. He could easily lift and carry her. Working her way down around his boots, and then back up, she returned to her goal at the front of his breeches. His cock was now long and fully upright beneath the fabric. Between her thighs she grew hot and wet. With a hum of approval, she clasped him firmly. “How satisfying it would be, to mount such a fine weapon.”

He cursed beneath his breath, glanced quickly down the corridor one more time, then his lips tightened as he watched her unbutton his cassock to gain better access.

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Jessie noticed then how he towered over her, and how self-assured he was. Virile, wayward and mysterious, he was a tempting man. She wanted to pleasure him. She wanted that and more. When his cock bounced free, she embraced it and found it hot to the touch. Reaching below with her other hand, she cupped his sac. His ballocks responded, lifting. If he were on his back she would happily straddle and ride him. Everything about him made her feel lusty, had her core clasping needily. She wanted to hold fast to the bars of the cell while she begged him to rut her from behind. Her hand slid around the shaft and she measured its girth with an impressed sigh, her cunny damp to the tops of her thighs.

Quick as a flash his hand closed over hers, locking her in place. For a moment she thought he was about to stop her. Then her heart beat wildly when she caught sight of the dare in his expression.

“They will burn you thrice over, witch-whore,” he commented, “if they see you making lewd with a minister.”

Jessie’s breath caught in her throat, her spirit flaring as she met his challenging stare. The sinful glint in his eyes made him look less like a minister than any man she had ever seen.

Her hand tightened on his shaft and she licked her lips. “If I am to burn, I would prefer it be for a good reason.”