The Harlot (Taskill Witches 1)

“Demanding now. Tsk. And there I was thinking you wanted me for another man.”

Gregor snatched at her wrist. “Right now you will mount me, or our agreement will not stand.”

Jessie smiled, and her eyes were bright with lust and with victory. “Our agreement, the one you have invested so much in already…you would cast it aside for the want of a tumble?”

He gritted his teeth and gestured for her to approach.

She made her skirts swish and sway, eyeing his cock all the while. “Let me warm your bed again tonight and I will make you come as you never have before.”

“Cheeky wench, you are in no position to make demands.”

“I believe I am.” Straddling him, she climbed over his knees, her thighs spread. With one hand she captured her skirts at her waist and with the other opened up the lips of her puss. It was succulent as a ripe peach, swollen and damp with her juices.

Morag had shifted and was watching, agog. When Gregor caught her eye she sat bolt upright. “Pardon me, but should I leave you now?”

Before he replied, Gregor moved his hand to Jessie’s crotch, easing two fingers inside her, his thumb resting over her swollen nub.

Jessie gasped, her eyes closing for a moment while her puss clamped hard on his fingers.

His cock jerked. “That, my dear,” he said, in answer to the serving girl’s question, “is entirely up to you. This will happen either way, so if you do not want to see it, leave.”

Jessie glanced over her shoulder at Morag and laughed softly. With her hand on his shaft she directed it to her and eased his crown into her hole, grasping it tightly enough to make him stamp his foot.

Pausing, she smiled and then lowered herself onto it, taking a portion of him inside her and squeezing it, as if to drive him to distraction.

The hot, damp clasp of her body on his aching cock was both pleasure and torture, and she knew it. “More,” he instructed. “I need more.”

Arching her neck, she sighed aloud and took him deep.

A groan escaped him when she sheathed him to the hilt. The succulent grip of her cunny on his cock made him grateful to be alive. That was not a familiar feeling, and he wrapped his hands around her bottom beneath the skirts of the special gown he had picked out for her, squeezing the soft, rounded flesh of her buttocks each time she rode his length.

She shifted one hand and pushed her fingers into his hair, clasping him around the back of his head as she rode him. Her moves were as agile as a dancer’s and she took everything he had to give. “Am I good enough to seduce your enemy?”

“Good enough to seduce the king himself, I warrant.” Gregor dug his fingers hard into her backside.

She cried out when he gripped her, and rolled her hips forward, which bowed his cock inside her.

“Hellfire.” The rhythm of her body and the slippery, hot embrace around his shaft made him exhale loudly. “Now I know why they call you the Harlot.”

Throwing back her head, she laughed joyously. “I’m not ashamed of enjoying this.”

“I noticed. Your skills are exceptional. You could seduce anyone you desired.” Instinctively, he reached one hand to cup her face and hold her.

“Aye. Probably I could.” She turned her cheek toward his hand and kissed his palm. “But I wanted you and I could see you watching, and all the while my desire for this grew fiercer.”

Her eyes glittered, and for a brief moment he knew that she had him—he could so easily become addicted to this. Fighting it, he glanced away toward the woman on the bed, who now lolled on her front, watching them while she sucked on her fingers.

His hands tightened on Jessie’s bottom and his lower back thudded intensely.

“Ride me hard,” he instructed, desperate for the release.

Gripping the chair back, she rode him vigorously, her breasts swelling from the edge of her gown, her hair tumbling down her shoulders. Her cunny tightened.

His balls throbbed and fire shot the length of his spine.

“I wanted to do this most of all,” she whispered, and then cried out. The grip of her puss on him grew rhythmic and tight at her peak.

That undid him, and he urged her to break free so that he might spill elsewhere. He barely made it, and it was with regret that Gregor came in her hand instead of her sweet puss.