Harlot (Bartered Hearts 2)

She slid her hand around his neck, her fingers slippery with his sweat. If they’d married, this would’ve been perfect with him, perfect to feel his body opening hers, his hips pressing deeper, faster, his seed filling her up. But pretending wouldn’t actually change anything, so even as she dug her nails into the nape of his neck, she set her

other hand against his chest. “Don’t…” she started as she arched up in pleasure. “Don’t finish inside me,” she managed to rasp, though her legs pulled him closer.

His heavy eyes looked blank for a moment as they settled on her face, but then he nodded. He pushed deep inside her and took a breath before he slid free.

He straddled her hips, and she expected him to stroke himself, but instead he reached for her hand and wrapped her fingers around his cock. The heat of it shocked her. The wetness of her own body had made his shaft slick.

His fist moved hers, keeping her fingers wrapped around him as he slid her hand up and down. His breath came faster. “Make me come,” he growled, letting his hand fall away.

Jessica tried to keep up the pace he’d set, tried to mimic the movements, sliding her fist to just under the crown of his cock, then back down to the base.

“Tighter,” he ordered, and she squeezed harder, afraid she’d hurt him. But he seemed to like it. He grunted and pressed his hips forward. “I wanted to see this,” he rasped. “I used to imagine your hand on me when I’d jerk off, but I never thought you’d do that. I never would have asked. You were so sweet.”

He looked ten feet tall, kneeling over her, his face cruel and avid as her pale fingers stroked him.

“But now…” he said.

Now.

His groan was something like a hard laugh. “Now I want you to make me come.”

She should have looked away, but she couldn’t. It was shameful, staring up at his thick, dusky cock, still slick from her pussy, hard as steel in her grasp.

“Faster,” he hissed.

She jerked him more quickly, more roughly. He pumped his hips forward.

“Jess.” Seed shot from his cock, splashing over her breasts. She gasped and nearly let him go, but his fist closed over her hand again, moving her faster, faster as he came on her body, his seed striping hot over her belly and chest.

Finally he stilled, his hand squeezing hers so firmly around him that her fingers ached.

Her gaze rose to his face, to his parted mouth and dark eyes, but his eyes stayed on her body and what he’d done to it. He stared as if in shock, air shuddering in his throat.

For the first time that night, she wanted to cover up. She felt ashamed. Because she’d been sweet once and now she was a whore he could cover with his spunk.

He whispered, “You’re so beautiful.” And she hated him. The hatred filled her up. The same deep, dark places inside her he’d wanted to fill with his seed.

When he moved off her, she yearned to turn and burrow into the blanket, but she couldn’t. Not like this. So she lay there exposed and cold as he wet a cloth and brought it to her. He moved to wipe her off, but she took the cloth from him and did it herself while he stood and watched.

Once she was clean enough, she handed it back and pulled the blanket high.

He didn’t leave this time. He cleaned up and came back to the bed as he had the night before, only this time it wasn’t raining. He could leave now. They’d done everything, hadn’t they? Was there some other profane act he thought she’d performed for other men? Was there some other part of her left to fuck?

When she shivered, he eased her close, pressing his chest to her back. She tried to hold her body stiff and separate, but his warmth seeped into her and she had to close her eyes against tears as her body shaped itself to his.

“It’s my mother’s birthday,” he said softly, as if they were a married couple discussing the end of their day. “I stayed in town long enough for the celebration.”

She nodded. This was it, then. The end of their little arrangement. At least she’d been smart enough to stop him finishing inside her this time.

“I meant to leave soon,” he clarified. “Tomorrow. Or a few days, at most.”

“I see.”

“I don’t know how I will, Jess.”

She wouldn’t ask him to stay longer. Was that what he wanted? She wouldn’t ask to be used a few more times, no matter how much pleasure she’d felt.

He said her name again, then turned her to her back. She opened her eyes just so he wouldn’t know how much she wanted to disappear.