Harlot (Bartered Hearts 2)

“Do you like that, Jess?”

She was ashamed to say it. But there was no shame here in their bed, because she could pretend he loved her. She closed her eyes and refused to remember the truth. “Yes.”

“God,” he muttered, his fingers tightening again.

The pleasure of it shot through her. She arched into his hand, her hips pressing closer to his. He grunted and moved against her. His cock settled snugly between the cheeks of her bottom.

“I didn’t know you’d like it,” he murmured, his fingers plucking now, pinching her nipple until she squirmed and moaned. She hadn’t known either. Surely she wasn’t supposed to enjoy it. She’d been raised as a gentlewoman, but perhaps that wasn’t her true nature. Perhaps the reason she’d said yes to this—to all of this—was because that was how she was made. To be used, pleasured, violated.

“And this,” he said, his hand abandoning her nipple to slide down her naked belly. His fingers touched her curls and pushed on. “You like this.” He found her slit and stroked over the wetness there.

“Yes,” she gasped, her hips jerking against his touch.

He rocked into her, pumping his shaft between her cheeks with a moan.

“Yes.” She parted her legs a little so he could touch more of her. Yes, she liked it. She loved it. And if a woman could pay to feel this way, maybe she’d pay for it too. She’d pay him to do everything he wanted. To fuck and suck and kiss and stroke.

“I like it,” she panted as his fingers played with her, stroking up and down between her legs. “I like it.”

“Yes,” he rasped, working himself against her ass. “Yes. You love it.”

“I do.” She put her hand to his and pressed him lower, deeper, pushing his fingers inside her. “I love you,” she groaned.

His hand jumped, and she knew she shouldn’t have admitted it, but it didn’t matter. This wasn’t real. She was only pretending.

“Oh, God. Jess.” His fingers pushed too roughly, and she didn’t care. His other hand wound into her hair to pull her head back. His mouth opened on her neck as he fucked her with his hand, his hips still pumping against her ass. Her cheeks grew slick, and he moved more easily now, sliding so sweetly along her. She arched and writhed, wanting more, wanting that sensation again. She could feel it there, distant and shimmering, taunting her.

“You love it, damn you,” he growled into her wet neck. “You love it.”

“Yes!” She was his. His harlot or lover or wife. It didn’t matter.

“I want you from behind,” he said, his voice so deep she barely understood him.

She moaned, “Please. Please.” She knew that, at least. He wanted her on her knees like an animal. She’d done that. She’d do it for him.

He moved away from her, leaving her back cold. Jessica forced her weak muscles to work. She drew her knees up and rolled over, pushing up on her arms. She waited a moment, eyes still closed, but Caleb didn’t touch her. She heard his footsteps. Heard the boards of the floor creak. Just as she opened her eyes, the bed dipped again. She tensed, waiting for him to enter her. But he didn’t.

His hand touched her bottom. His fingers slipped between her cheeks, and something cool and slick touched the tight hole of her ass. She flinched.

“Caleb?” she whimpered, but he didn’t shy away. Instead, he pressed more firmly. She tensed in utter shock, but his fingertip slid in.

Jessica winced, expecting pain and ready to move away. This wasn’t what she’d meant. It wasn’t what she wanted.

But she knew it was done. More than one man had told her he’d like to do it. In fact, Mr. Steele the butcher, who would’ve tipped his hat to her during her previous life, had leaned close at the dry goods store and whispered about how he’d like to grease her ass and fuck her there.

Jessica stared wide-eyed at the headboard as his finger pushed slowly deeper. It didn’t hurt, but it felt strange. Wrong. She panted, her breath drying her throat. His finger moved in and out, sending an odd pleasure spiraling through her.

“Oh,” she breathed, her eyes fluttering closed. That strange pressure wound around inside her.

He pulled free of her, and now even that felt odd. The emptiness. As if she’d already settled into the violation. Apparently that was all it took with her now. A brush of degradation and she wanted more.

She caught the lavender scent of her skin cream. He touched her bottom again, and this time he penetrated her easily, though she still flinched away. But then he began to fuck her with his finger, a slow glide that made her relax, and then whimper. Then her arms grew weak and her thighs trembled. Sweet promise hovered at the edges of her soul again. This was wrong. So wrong. But that certainty only made the pleasure more intense.

“Caleb,” she sighed, her arms collapsing, hips pushing up. She pressed her forehead to the pillow and groaned. She wanted to tell him to stop, but she was too afraid he would. This shouldn’t feel so good. It shouldn’t. But even without him touching her pussy, the wet, hot center of her was throbbing now, tightening with each slide of his finger into her bottom. “God,” she groaned. “No.”

She moved her hand to her pussy, to the place that ached, pushing hard against it, wanting it to stop, but that made the ache worse. She shook her head against the pillow even as she tipped her hips up for more.

His finger slid free. “Please,” she begged. “Please, Caleb.” The pleasure was rolling closer, closer, like the thunder above them. She needed it to break over her.