The Harlot (Taskill Witches 1)

“God help me, I cannot resist you.” He took his cock in his hand, directing it to her hot opening. He wanted her so badly that reason escaped him.

When he pressed against her and her body gave, his crown eased inside. The exquisite grip of her opening on his distended cock winded him. He was forced to pause, to inhale deeply. Then she rippled beneath him and her sleek channel embraced him, welcoming him in, and he pushed deeper. Her cunt enclosed his length, tightening on him. There was nothing like it, and for a long moment he savored the intense clasp of her body on his. T

hen he gave in to his need to thrust deeper—to the hilt. Jessie.

Her name rang through his mind when his crown hit home.

A gasp of pleasure issued from her mouth and her fingers dug into his back, urging him on. He needed no such encouragement. Driving into her, he arched his spine and placed a kiss on her pale throat. It was hot and damp to the touch, and he licked her skin, tasting her.

“Ah,” she cried out, “’tis as if you source the strongest part of me and make me more alive than I have ever been, more powerful.”

He cursed again. It was the crazed stuff of dreams—drink addled dreams at that. “Madness, this is madness.”

Yet his senses were full of her, and around them the night itself seemed to hum with her radiance, as if the very air they breathed had been affected by her. He could not deny what he saw and felt, and all of it was because of her and what she was. He sensed her heat spreading outward through the undergrowth, and it was as if she was in tune with the wild things that lived there. Her eyes glowed. Her hair was flung back against the ground, and before his eyes strands of it seemed to plunge into the earth like roots of a tree. Her fingers, too, melded with the earth beneath her, digging into the dirt in time with his thrusts.

He lifted up onto his arms, probing deeper into that burning spot of hers. If this was his end, he welcomed it. Her legs had locked around his hips, her heels bouncing on his arse when he drew back. The position gave him deeper access, and his cock arched inside her. Her cunt clamped hard on him. The pull on his sac was too good, and his ballocks were poised to spill.

“You do not fear me when we are like this, do you?” She asked the question, but there was certainty in her voice, as if she already knew the answer.

This was no ordinary woman, and he was all but enslaved to her. Even if he had not known it before, he knew it now. How did this happen?

“Aye, I do fear it,” he blurted, as his body drove on, seeking more of her, seeking the ultimate pleasure in their mutual release. “But you are on fire, as if I dipped my wick into the most heavenly place that exists on this earth.”

His words seemed to delight her. Her back arched and the fire that welled in her eyes coursed over her entire body and then lit the ground around them.

Her cunt clasped at his length and her head rolled from side to side and she whispered his name. The sound of it coming from her lips urged him on. With a flick of his head, he tossed off a bead of sweat that ran down his forehead.

She reached up and pushed his hair back, her thumb stroking him in between his brows. The gesture lit something in her eyes, and her cunt rippled around his length.

The dam had been breached. “Ah, sweet Jessie, you are magnificent.”

She responded, but the words were garbled and he barely recognized them as Gaelic in origin. Her entire body trembled, her cunt milking him as if a warm, slippery fist held his cock.

Incandescent, she glowed as if the moonlight itself was captured in her release. As his seed poured into her and her warm thighs closed around his hips, he wanted nothing else than to be there, to savor that moment, and to see her so magically radiant and glorious at the very peak of their coupling.

TWENTY

SATED AND SOMEWHAT STUNNED, GREGOR rolled onto his back. A moment later he felt Jessie move against him, and when he put his arm around her, she wormed closer against his chest. With her ensconced that way—the way they had lain together on those nights back at the Drover’s Inn—he found he was able to ignore the strange reality of this situation for a few moments and just hold her. He kissed the top of her head, and she gave a contented sigh.

Staring at the sky, he noticed that the moon overhead was huge, filling his vision. Was it always this way? He shut his eyes, unable to wrestle with the tide of meaning any longer.

Then the warm huff of her breath on his collarbone helped to anchor him, and the immensity of what had gone before hit him afresh, bringing with it a new honesty. Swallowing hard, he rubbed her back. He was not altogether eager to press forward and gain a better understanding of this situation, but he knew he could not avoid it any longer. He stroked her, embracing the woman he thought he knew, while inviting the woman who was new to him to reveal herself more fully.

Eventually she lifted her head. Silently, she studied him. “I am stronger now,” she said.

It was not something he expected her to say, but he saw her meaning reflected in her expression. Was it truly as she suggested, that some power had been granted her, brought about by what had passed between them? “Is that the way of it?”

She lifted one shoulder in a slight shrug. “I heard some talk of it when I was young, but I’ve been separated from my kind since then. I know very little of the craft, but I am learning.”

She spoke cautiously, as if not sure how much more to reveal to him. Then she lifted her head and looked back at Balfour Hall. There was determination in the set of her mouth.

Gregor tightened his grip on her, hit by the sudden fear of what they would do to her if they discovered her nature. “Can you protect yourself through magic?”

She nodded. “In all honesty that is the only thing I have used it for, for myself. I have helped a few others, but I have been too afraid, because of what I saw them do to my mother.”

There was a request for understanding in her eyes. There was also sorrow, and he recognized it was there whenever she remembered her mother’s demise. He could not fault her for that, for it was how he felt about his own father’s untimely death. “What is it that you wish to do with this talent of yours?”

She flashed him a glance, as if she knew he was not easily led. “Our magic is meant to be used for good, for healing and nurturing. Through it we embrace the seasons and call upon nature to enhance our time here on this bonny earth. Those who do not understand this tell lies about us and persecute us. When I was a child I did not use my magic for many years, and when I ran away I had to, to protect myself. In the work I do, I am lucky to have this gift, and I know that.” She sighed. “I have kept myself clean and I have kept myself barren, but even these things make the other women wonder why my fate is so different to theirs. That is why they saw the truth about me, because the whispers were already being passed about that I was not like them.”