The Harlot (Taskill Witches 1) - Page 37

“Ah, but women are all different, Jessie, and some have so much more passion than others.” And your passion becomes you so well.

He tweaked her nipple then, for he was more than ready to enter her. The need between them had swelled, and the way her body moved distractedly against the bed made him want to feel that movement more specifically, from inside.

She seemed to take that last comment particularly badly, however, for she turned her face away and he saw dampness on her eyelashes. Had he taunted her too much? That thought made him pause, his mood leveling. But Jessie was rolling in a different direction.

She let out a frustrated cry and then grabbed at his hand, forcing it to rake over her breast. “Mark me,” she whispered. “Make me yours.”

Startled by the shift in her mood, he attempted to pull free. But she held on, pressing his hand against her.

Gregor fell silent, astonished by her strange behavior. Moving his fist to the front of her skirts, she pushed down on it, rocking her hips in a lewd motion. “Touch me, use me.”

The plea was anguished. “Put it in me,” she begged. “Fill me, please, make me feel that I am worth as much as them.”

Angry with himself for bringing her to this, he shook his head.

She clutched at his forearms. Her eyes shone with some crazed need. “Please, Gregor.”

The sight of her this way made his chest tighten, and it was a peculiar twisted sense of yearning that he experienced when he looked at her. “You are worth as much as them, Jessie. More.”

She looked at him from under her eyelashes as if she did not believe him. But it was the truth. There was a passionate fire in her that he had never found before. “I have never broken into a jail dressed as a minister for a woman,

before I met you, Jessie Taskill.”

His words seemed to calm her and she swallowed her tears.

“Come now, what foolishness is this?”

“You have driven me to madness with your wild stories,” she accused, her expression most ashamed. “I need a man inside me because of it.”

“And you will have this man. That was always my purpose, my dear.”

She looked deep into his eyes, and he smiled and touched his finger to the end of her nose. “You asked, did you not?”

She nodded.

Gregor stood up, unlacing his breeches. “Lift your skirts. Open your legs for me and I will show you exactly where I want to be.”

She took a deep breath and then exhaled it shakily while she did as he instructed. Pulling up her skirts, she opened her legs to him, feet flat to the bed.

He was captured at first by the sight of her bared puss. Between the shadowy enclaves of her soft thighs her slit glistened enticingly. Her bud protruded, swollen and ruddy, and the plump lips invited him to pivot against her, right there in that most tender spot. She held her skirts in one hand, resting the other on the soft curve of her belly, fingertips against the place where soft dark hair feathered over her mound. He nodded toward it. “Show me more. Open yourself to me.”

Jessie moaned, and he could see by the rise and fall of her breasts that she was struggling with her needs. That knowledge made his ballocks ride high, ready for action. At that moment Gregor could think of no other woman he would more willingly claim. He took his cock in his hand, fist closed hard around the base, while he looked down at her.

The anticipation in her eyes when she looked at his erect length made his cock jerk within his grasp. The way her lips parted expectantly and the damp tears on her lashes glittered only made him want her more. Then she moved her hand and plied her folds open with her fingers, revealing her most intimate place to his eager gaze. How that dark, juicy opening captured him. The prospect of easing his rod inside its hot, tight grasp and stretching her open was all-encompassing. He climbed over her, staring down into her eyes as he directed his distended cock to her.

Her sweet furrow was sleek and ready and he worked his crown into her, watching her expression alter as he filled her. The stories he had told her had enflamed her all the more, for she cried out and her hot puss snatched eagerly at his length.

“Hellfire,” he whispered, and gave himself over to the over whelming need to drive and thrust into her. She clung to him, whimpering as he rode her, her hands stroking his shoulders and back, her body arching up from the bed. Her responses made him want to hold her in his arms all night long, and he would.

The sounds of her pleasured moans ran fever over his skin. She had locked her legs loosely around his hips, and their thrusts became faster. Each time he rubbed her deepest places her body bucked beneath his, rising to meet him. Gregor relished the grip of her muscles and the heated look in her eyes, and he marveled at how different she was from all those other whores. All those women had impressed him with their tricks and their diversions, and yet never had he found such passion, such sensuality as he did in this woman.

As he pressed home, driving them both over the edge and into the ecstasy of mutual release, that knowledge settled deep inside Gregor Ramsay. Whatever happened, he knew that he would never forget this woman.

Gregor awoke that night when she cried out in her sleep. Stirring, he glanced about to get his bearings. A stub of candle still flickered in its holder beside the bed, and he blinked and looked at the warm woman who nestled against his chest in slumber. He rubbed his face with his free hand. All was dark at the window. It was past midnight, but nowhere near dawn. He was about to settle down to sleep once more when her body stiffened against his and she cried out again. The sound disconcerted him, for it was a mewling noise, like that of a distressed animal.

In the gloom he could see that she held her hands in loose fists, and her fingers furled and unfurled. Her eyelids flickered and her mouth opened. Bad thoughts had come upon her in her dreams. Should he wake her? He rocked her gently in his arms, and her body relaxed. She moved closer against him and seemed to settle in his embrace.

After a few minutes had passed her breathing grew more regular and peaceful. He decided against waking her. However, he could not return to sleep so easily, because he could not help wondering what it was that had disturbed her dreams.

Tags: Saskia Walker Taskill Witches Erotic
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