The Harlot (Taskill Witches 1)

Startled as she was, it took her a moment to realize that he understood what she was saying. And more than that, that he understood her so well.

“Harlot of mine, you have made me feel again, and I hated you for doing so, that day at Strathbahn.”

“Do you still hate me for it?”

“No. How can I?” Gently, he caressed her cheek. “I have not treated you much better than your pimp, sending you into that place.”

Lifting up onto her knees, she moved between his legs, her hands pressing against his chest as she looked up at him beseechingly. “I did it for you, because I have grown to…to care for you.”

“I do not deserve it.”

Jessie smiled. “Perhaps you don’t. Perhaps I should be more cautious with my affections.” She stroked her fingers down his shirt to the band of his breeches and then moved them from side to side. Instantly, she felt his response. He placed his feet a little wider, and the bulge in his breeches grew beneath her arm. His eyelids lowered, and his handsome mouth curved in an appreciative smile.

She tipped her head to one side. “This arrangement reminds me of our first encounter, in that cell in Dundee.” She moved her hand over his swollen shaft through his breeches.

“It does?”

“Yes.” She rubbed her palm up and down his impressive length, her own arousal building when she felt his cock leaning toward her, stretching the fabric. “In fact, I am compelled to make you an offer.”

She looked at him from beneath her lashes and licked her lips. Brimming with ardent wishes, she carefully measured her words with him.

“An offer? Go on.”

His response made the flame at her center flare. “If I pleasure you with my mouth, you will undertake a task for me.”

“And that task would be?”

“Ah, I will tell you the nature of the task afterward, as you did me.”

He laughed softly. “This sounds like a risk.”

“I was willing to take the risk. Are you?” She lifted the lace that barely held his breeches closed, and tugged on it.

His lips parted.

She paused.

He nodded.

Jessie smiled and moved into position as she undid the laces and his cock sprang free. Her cunny clenched. “Oh, but I think you’re ready for this.”

“When it comes to you, Jessie, my cock is always ready.”

Chuckling softly, she took his crown into her mouth and licked the underside.

His eyes narrowed and his teeth clamped together.

She moved her hands to his ballocks and lifted them, cradling them. When her tongue reached the base of his shaft, she squeezed and tugged on his sac gently. His cock jerked. The sight of it made her cunny clamp, and a trickle of hot juice slid down between her thighs.

“Jessie,” he murmured.

For a moment her eyes closed, and memories flitted through her mind. The first time she had done this she’d had no idea what it would come to mean. It was a canny trick, to pleasure a man with her mouth, but she had come to adore this man and that part of him that pleasured her so and joined them together as she had never been joined before. She did not want that to end.

His hands locked over the arms of the chair, and she saw that the pulse in his throat beat fast.

“It is not enough,” he muttered, and grasped her around the back of the neck, forcing her to stop.

Dismayed, she held his shaft in her hand and lifted her head. With the back of her other hand, she wiped her mouth. “Not enough?”