Morag’s head went back against the pillow, and she opened her mouth as if gasping for air. Clutching at the blanket with her fingers, she nodded. “I rub myself at night, rub it hard. Sometimes I do it up against the door handle in my room, imagining it’s a man’s…you know, his cock.”
“The door handle,” Jessie repeated, and glanced Gregor’s way again. Licking her lips, she lowered her gaze to the bulge in his breeches.
“Demoness,” he hissed under his breath, for her benefit alone.
That only seemed to delight her. She returned her attention to her current victim. “Well now, the door handle. There’s a trick I had not heard of. I must try it myself, perhaps when I’m locked up and alone in my room of an afternoon.”
The image that filled Gregor’s mind at that point was lewd to the point of obscenity. Three days now he had locked her in that room, and he would be unable to do so now without being haunted by the image of her lifting her skirts to press her mound against the door handle and use it well, in his absence. His cock was now so thoroughly distended it was growing painful.
Meanwhile, Morag continued with her explanation.
“The door rattles when I thump myself against it, right there at the end when I am dizzy with it.” She emitted a gutsy laugh, and then gasped for breath as Jessie manipulated her fingers.
“Do that, aye, do that.”
“But you did not know that your breasts were so sensitive, did you?”
“Oh, no, that was good.” She slapped her hands over her own bared breasts, palms flat, then stirred the lolling mounds, moaning loudly as she did so.
Jessie plowed the serving girl’s furrow, three fingers grouped like a man’s phallus. Morag cried out, her feet lifting from the bed. Her hands left her breasts and grappled for the iron rail on the bedstead, holding tight for purchase as Jessie slid her fingers in and out of her wet hole. With her arms upright that way, the maid’s breasts squeezed together. Jessie pinched one nipple with her free hand, while she rode her fingers in and out down below. Planting her thumb on the swollen nub, she nudged it back and forth.
It did not escape Gregor’s notice that Jessie was rubbing herself up against the bed, one knee lifted to aid her as she pressed her hips to the edge of the mattress. At this point he had to place his feet wider to accommodate the size of his cock and ease the ache in his ballocks. What aroused him most of all was how she was affected by what she was doing. It was then he realized that he was more eager to know how wet she was than to imagine himself easing his cock into the wet hole of the other wench, the one so readily displayed.
Jessie had captured his attention fully, but that was no surprise. She was a sensualist of the highest order, more so than he ever would have guessed that first night—and more so than any woman he had ever encountered on his travels.
“Oh, my,” Morag shouted.
Jessie had lowered her head and stuck out her tongue to tease the woman’s nipple, turning her head in profile so that he could see it all. Gregor was so hard he was in pain. Was she trying to pleasure him or torture him?
Meanwhile Jessie thrust her fingers in and out ever faster. When Morag reached her peak, her feet lifted from the mattress and her arms grew rigid, her hands locked around the bedstead. He thought Jessie might climb into the bed with her, but with the deed done, she turned her attention to him.
Gregor’s ballocks ached for release when she glanced at the front of his breeches. She gave an appreciative smile and met his stare. Her eyes were dark, her lips wet. He rested his hand briefly over his cock while they exchanged glances.
Within a heartbeat she’d left her place by the bed and stalked over to him, lifting her skirts as she did so, briefly displaying herself to him. Seeing the pale flesh of her thighs made his need to be between them desperate. The soft, dark hair that feathered over her intimate places only drew his attention to what it concealed.
He was about to shift and rise from the seat so he could touch her there, when she shook her head. She didn’t have to say anything. He knew what she wanted, because she was staring down at his bulge, and her skirt remained half lifted in order to mount him. He opened his breeches.
As soon as his cock bounced free she sighed.
Momentarily he considered that her talent might be his undoing. It would be easy to allow himself to be thoroughly distracted by this. Mad things he’d done in the few days he’d known her. He’d rescued a condemned woman and dallied in the jail for some of this.
“You enjoyed what you saw?”
“Perhaps.” He gestured with his hand, eager for her to lift her skirts again. “Show me more and I will decide.”
She pulled her skirts up as far as her waist, revealing herself fully to him.
For a moment Gregor could only stare. The soft, feminine curves of her body made him want to keep her naked so that he could observe her that way all the time. The place where thigh melted into hip made him eager to run his fingers along that line and claim it. The plump cushion of her mound was an invitation to invade her sweet puss. The delicate brush of hair that fanned out from her glistening slit made him harder still. He forced his gaze back to hers.
Her eyes glittered and she nodded down at his erection. “I think you have decided you like what you see?”
Still she made mischief. He was used to being obeyed, and she should be eager to please, and yet she taunted him. “Are you suggestin
g you made me pay for a tease?”
“Why no, I was merely making certain you were pleased. I assure you I am eager to ride a good cock, and that is what I see before me.”
Oh, yes, she surely did know how to play him, and now his need was so great his patience had gone. “You know it is true, now carry on. I believe you were about to demonstrate how much you needed to ride a good cock.”