Page 64 of Hunted By the Headless Horseman
THREE DAYS LATER
I love seeing her feathers ruffled.
“I knit you a new pumpkin head,” she mutters, and it hits me softly a moment later. I manage to catch it and chuckle darkly.
It takes me a moment to secure the straps to my coat. Belle mutters something indecipherable and continues with her sweeping of the shop.
“Hung like a fucking Jack donkey, and pumpkin spice just going to damn waste. All work and no play makes Jack a very dull boy,” she spits the insult at me while sweeping the floor.
Amusement ripples through me at how hot and bothered she is. I feel it even before I take her hips from behind, and she stiffens…and hisses. Because I am heavy and hung like an ass.
Is my sweet damsel in distress, Belladonna?I slide my hand around her waist.
“Mmm…” she whimpers as I lower my hand to her luscious center. “Jack-off. Ughn…prick,” she mutters, gripping the broom tight with one hand while her other clutches mine at her waist.
I laugh softly at how wet she is. Little wonder when I roused her from her bed this morning, but denying her the pleasure she so longed for. Just as I did intermittently during the day while I pretended to be a Halloween decoration for the shop. A brush of my fingertip along the curve of her spine, a subtle fondling of her ample arse. A firm capturing of her chin. Numerous little techniques I’ve devised to drive her mad.
Coiling one hand around her throat and drawing her chin up, I rub her pretty quim through her dress. From what I’ve determined throughout the day, it’s the perfect dress for my intentions this evening. Vintage, chic, and pleated, the dress has a surplice neckline and long sleeves—a belt for her waist. And I will certainly enjoy relieving her of that belt for other purposes.
A few gasps leave her throat. She arches her back, and just as I sense her about to go over the edge, I remove my hands.
“God, Jack!” she whines and tries to lower one hand, but I growl and grip her wrist, confining it to her stomach.
I know what my woman needs,I reiterate from our first night together.I have everything prepared.
“Prepared?” she chirps, straightening.
Yes. If you are finished cleaning the shop, I have a little surprise for you.
She drops the broom and practically rushes to the back door. I laugh heartily through our mental tether, following her to the kitchen.
“Are you coming?” she asks, demanding and annoyed. “I’ve seen pumpkins grow faster than you’re walking.”
Oh, I will punish her quite welltonight.
“Am I missing something?”Belle wonders once we’ve arrived at my property, where I’ve led her to a little clearing between a grove of trees. Thick enough to obscure the sliver of moonlight. Not that Belle will be facing me when I fuck her this time.
The manor lies a hundred yards or so to the west.
While blood surges to my manhood at what I have prepared, I sense she is far more perplexed.
Gripping the silver handle of my cane, I close the distance between us and perch the cane just beneath her chin, speaking firmly.When you took me to the harvest festival and described the many sights and sounds, something stood out to me. A lovely little children’s game. And I could not get the vision out of my sight of bending you over a barrel while you open those pretty lips and try to snatch up a floating apple. If you succeed in capturing one for me, you will get a reward. Fail, and there will be a consequence.
A consequence I would fulfill regardless. One I did not meet during our first lovemaking, as I spent the time fucking her on every other surface before binding her to the bed and taking a flogger to her lovely flesh.
I hear her heavy breath, but she has not replied.
What say you, my Belle? Are you ready to be my little bobber?
A sweet giggle leaves her lips. “Just tell me how you want me.”
Begging and screaming, but there will be time for that soon.
Removing the handle, I spin her around and place her hands on the edges of the barrel. Her breath catches as I slowly lift her dress, bunching it up and keeping the fabric trapped between her body and the barrel. An adorable whimper creeps through our bond as I slide her stockings down to her ankles, but I keep them there. I will soon enjoy the sight of them above her leather ankle boots.
Unbuckling her belt, I remove it in one swift move. She lurches but thrusts her ample bottom out toward me, knowing she will likely receive a punishment. I confirm with a glide of the leather along the right mound of her arse, giving her a soft warning slap. She gasps.
Thrusting my hand between her thighs, I chuckle darkly at her arousal glistening on her nether folds.
