Page 23 of Hunted By the Headless Horseman
When she doesn’t respond, I remove my fingers from her swollen nub.
“No,” she whimpers.
No, what?I growl at her.
“No, Sir.”
Do you wish it was my…cock?I recall the present, arousing term for it.My manhood thrust deep inside your tight, sopping sex?
She shudders again. My shaft rages in my breeches with my hunger.
“Yes, Sir. But I’m…I don’t think I’m ready for it. I’m sor?—”
I smack her sex. She bucks, and her warm juices coat my palm. She has nothing to apologize for.
Before I progress with my filthy motives, I retrieve another necessary item and tap her lips in a silent “open”.Bite.
She responds with instant obedience, clamping her teeth down upon the leather strap. At some point, I will bridle her. I snap at the vision of her with a bit in her lovely mouth.
Switching to my riding crop, I train it on her folds. It’s the first time she truly rocks her hips, straining on the rope.If you need me to stop, Belladonna, simply spit out the gag and tell me.
It might just kill me, but I would stop for her. Her command is mine to follow.
I thwack the crop against her, striking that lush nether rose. She shrieks through the gag.
After another few swings, I reach around her to rip at the buttons of her ruffled shirt. She gasps through the gag. But no words. I need to touch the sheen of sweat upon her skin, feel how hot she has grown, and the pounding of her heart.
I trail my fingers to the mounds of flesh that barely fit into the delicate lace covering them, not sliding them beneath but stroking the swells until my thumb and finger catch her erect nipple. She throws her head back, the braid flicking against my neck. She cries through the gag, squeezes her thighs, and…
By thunder!—the sound of her release nearly spurs on my own. I’ve never lost control with a woman. But it’s been too long. Too goddamn long.
Following my pinch to the pebbled bud, I target her sex. With every slap, her scent perfumes the air. I alternate. My strikes turn chaotic, mad. Driven by lust and fury, enough to last centuries, I unleash the beast inside me. I growl, snarl, and roar inside the sanctum of the bond we share.
I wage an assault upon her arse, her sex, her thighs, and everywhere else I deem. I strike her tits, too, and thumb the exquisite nipples, hot to the touch. This causes her to moan the most.
By the end, her muscles have locked, her spine straight. She came two more times. She fucking squirted a well upon the musty floor.
I’ve welted her buttocks. She won’t likely sit down for a damn week. Her petals are inflamed, her bud red and engorged from the crop. Her nipples are inflamed, hard as little gems. The backs of her thighs bear my marks, striations of my transgression. A violation.
I cut the rope. She slumps against the saddle stand, gag still in her mouth, as I fall back against the stall, gripping onto the edges so hard, splinters push under my nails and slice my fingertips.
It was nothing but a slaughter. I savaged her. If I’d had teeth, I’d have mauled the side of her neck. Left marks there, too.
Hellfire!—what she must think of me. I was a monster. I am a monster. I deserve to rot in hell for what I’ve done to her.And yet, I have no regrets. No remorse. It is why I am a monster.
I hear her stockings brushing across the dried leaves and dirt. I expect her to pass me by, to leave me. She would spare herself. The last thing I expect is for her to wrap her arms around me. All my muscles lock up. She doesn’t cringe. Or pull away. If anything, her grip tightens.
“It’s okay, Jack. I’m okay. I’m here, Jack. I’m right here.”
I explode in my breeches!
Her soothing voice was my final snapping point. I’ve never once ejaculated in this way, but by the devil!—the release thunders through me with the force of a goddamn battering ram. And I know she can feel it.
A few heartbeats, hers, pass before she sucks in a deep breath. “Jack?”
Hmm…
“Did you just?—”
