The Harlot (Taskill Witches 1)

Jessie glanced his way and nodded at him. “I’m sure Mister Ramsay would also like to see me stroke your cunny while I kiss your breasts.”

Gregor inhaled sharply. He waited for Morag’s reaction. She was eyeing the coins in his hand and had wrapped her arms around Jessie—who was slighter than herself—as if holding her close for comfort.

Amused and fascinated at the turn of events, Gregor resisted a smile and counted out five coins. He stacked them on the edge of the table.

Both women craned their necks to count t

hem.

He made a second pile, of equal height.

Jessie’s eyes lit up. “Now that looks fair.”

Morag nodded, and Jessie took the servant’s hand and led her to the bed. As she walked, Jessie rested her free hand on her hip and glanced back at him. Her black hair tumbled over her shoulder and her eyes glowed beguilingly. In that moment Gregor knew he should never have doubted her ability to seduce anyone. She could win over the whole wide world, he was convinced. She was controlling the lassie easily, seductive yet subtle about it. Had she been having a jest at his expense, allowing him to tutor her in the manner of being coy? He shook off the notion. No, her more circumspect approach was the result of their time together. That she could be brazen was no surprise.

Jessie patted the bed. Morag sat down and then reclined on it. Standing beside the bed in such a way as to give him a clear view of everything, Jessie ran her fingers down Morag’s neck and across the tops of her breasts, teasing her.

Morag chuckled.

She unlaced the serving girl’s bodice and lifted her ample breasts free from her stays and shift. With a soft, seductive hum in her throat Jessie examined the bared globes, squeezing the soft flesh in her hands until Morag’s nipples stuck out in hard nubs and she panted audibly.

When Jessie tugged on the nubs, Morag’s feet moved restlessly against the mattress. “Oh, my, that does feel good.”

“You like that?” She tugged again.

Morag nodded frantically. There was no doubting she was aroused.

Gregor shifted in his seat.

Jessie ducked down and sucked on one nipple, exposing her teeth as she did so. Gregor was riveted. He watched her run the sensitive nub against her teeth, and found he wanted to try that trick on her.

Morag cried out. She had pushed her head into the bolster, and her fingers gripped the blanket beneath her, clutching and releasing in time with Jessie’s actions. “Lord. My paps.”

She wriggled and wriggled and her skirt rode up. Then she stilled and gasped loudly, her body shuddering.

Jessie straightened, a proud smile on her face. Without any further ado, she tugged off her victim’s hide shoes and then pulled her skirts and petticoats as far as her waist, tucking them tightly there so as to leave her lower body exposed.

Morag had on odd woolen stockings, and one had a rather large hole over the knee. Her legs were as sturdily built as the rest of her, and they rolled apart readily when Jessie walked her fingers up from ankle to thigh, once again humming under breath as she did so.

Gregor looked the serving girl over, but it was Jessie who persistently drew his attention. He marveled at her sensual, easy way with the other woman. She was fully aware of him the whole time, but it was not obvious. Just as she had been aware of him watching her when she’d pleasured herself that first morning. She was connected to him even while she teased and amused another person. Rightly so, he surmised. He was her employer, and this demonstration was exhibiting her talent and her value. The connection nonetheless kept his attention. It also initiated a longing in his loins to possess her. He found it increasingly difficult to deny himself frequent and lengthy access to her intimate places.

Jessie flashed her eyes at Morag when she stroked one finger in the furrow between her full lips. “Oho, you are a minx. You are quite wet already. I think you are enjoying this.”

Morag chortled appreciatively. “I liked what you did to my paps. I will do that to meself later.”

“Do you pleasure yourself often?” Jessie asked the question while she stroked her finger up and down the woman’s glistening slit.

“I do. Every night, if I don’t have a good man to satisfy me.”

When Jessie paused and glanced his way, her look was so provocative that Gregor had to remind himself to stay seated, lest he miss the performance. He would never forgive himself for missing such a show, no matter how much he would prefer to stand up and drag Jessie aside to give her a good seeing-to. His hands itched to slap her rump until it was as pink as her cheeks, and she had surely earned it for that incendiary look she’d sent his way.

Jessie closed in on her victim. “Tell us what you do. Do you rub yourself?”

Morag rolled her head from side to side on the bolster. “Aye, I do. I do it all the time.”

Jessie pushed a finger inside her hole. “Tell us all about it. We want to know.”

Gregor gave a brief moment’s pause to wonder if she played him this well, before allowing himself to be distracted by her ongoing antics.