Page 26 of Hunted By the Headless Horseman
“First of all, it was orange. It might have been a trick of the flickering candlelight, and Suzy looked up at his pumpkin head just to compare the hue of its skin to that of his cock. Yep, definitely orange.”
I swallow hard, thankful he allows me to breathe in between reading.
“Jack, please tell me, is your cock oran?—”
Something hard prods at my entrance, cutting off my words. It circles once for him to collect my fluids, but what…?
The moment I try to look down, Jack grips the back of my neck, thrusting my head back up.
Read. And donotmove. Steady now, girl. Shh…
Oh, bloody pumpkins! That’s the voice he uses for Revy. A firm but soft encouragement, affirmation, and praise.
Licking my lips, I read on,“Jack looked at her with feral intensity, his fire blazing so hot, it was white.
“Suzy gulped, growing wetter at this monstrous sight, and returned to studying his cock.
Its head was the most terrifying, because how could anything with such a wide girth ever fit inside her? The head’s base was bulbous?—”
Oh, god, did I just say “bulbous” out loud? My cheeks redden from the mortification, but I’ve never been so turned on.
“—and pulsing like a living heart, the thin orange skin stretched taut across the swollen organ. The rest of the head was cone-shaped like a sharpened pencil, with a round hole right at its tip. The hole pulsed, too, opening and closing as if in a sucking motion.”
As the hard object pushes deeper until it slides inside me. I press my lips together, workinghard to cage the moan in my throat. My vision begins to blur. Whatever it is, it’s cold, metallic, and round.
Is that…? Is he…?
Oh, hell!
Such a dirty girl sucking Master’s cane into her sweet nether garden.
Sometime soon, I must teach Jack more modern terminology. But the romantic in me can’t help but appreciate some of the terms from his era. But I recently looked up a few, and if he starts using anything like “Jack nasty face”, we’re gonna have words.
Inner muscles clenching around the cane handle, I feel every textured inch of the intricate silver. My breaths quicken as his other gloved hand spreads me more.
Keep reading, my Belle. I wish to hear those lovely, filthy words while I fuck you with my cane.
I drip more, nearly coming from his words alone.
“A droplet of creamy, orange fluid slid out of it, and Suzy’s breath caught in her throat. How did he taste? Would Jack taste different?”I turn my chin just slightly. “Jack, how do you taste—I—ow!” I squeal from him giving my buttocks a hard pinch. The cane grinds against my hot inner walls.
Try again.
When Jack digs the cane in deeper, I gasp, clamping down tighter, harder, stronger. All of me grows hotter, and I rip at the buttons of my sweater dress. Desperate for air, I undo as many as I can until the sides of the dress part at my navel. He doesn’t chastise me. Instead, he merely slides his gloved hand along the side of my waist until his fingers collide with mine…just beneath my bust.
“Her tongue darted out and caught the drop of Jack’s precum before it fell to the floor. Suzy moaned in pleasure. He tasted like pumpkin spice syrup, only with a sharper tang, more ginger, less sweetness. Its texture was creamy, and it slid down her throat like melted chocolate.”
Oh, wouldn’t that be grand?!
Jack’s roguish fingers move up and grip the fabric at the shoulders. They tug. I grab hold of the stepladder for balance, pulse thrashing, blood burning from him ripping the sleevesdown until they collect at my elbows, exposing me more. My breasts have grown so heavy, and with my chest heaving, they’re nearly bursting out of the thin lace.
The more time I’ve spent with him, the sexier the lingerie I’ve chosen, always longing for his touch…and his words regarding my wardrobe, especially my “lady’s underthings”. I imagine smirking at him. Tempting him. I imagine him seeing it.
I imagine impressing him more. So, I read the next sentence.“She looked up at the flaming pumpkin with a mischievous smile. “You taste like Halloween,” she said.”
I do my best to focus on the reading, but his gloved fingers tease the lace edges of the bra, tugging at them but not quite pulling down the cups. His thumb rubs the nipple prodding the fabric. Then, he begins to pump the cane.
I hiss, stammering,“F-Five protruding, horizontal ridges ran around it, circling the sh-shaft at even distances. Sh-she bit her lip, thinking how th-they would f-feel when he thrust into her. She’d feel ev-very ridge against her o-opening, pushing inside, and with every inch, he would stretch her wider and wider.”
