Page 25 of Hunted By the Headless Horseman
I still love his gentlemanly ways. Over the past week, he’s come to my rescue with a fluffy pillow anytime I started to sit down. I curl up in his lap, and we take turns reading poetry. Okay,Iread while he recites it with flawless memory and tone.
One benefit to his lack of head is that he can’t see the project I’ve been working on all week for him. I’ve tirelessly labored over the piece, reinforcing the layers with a worthy frame. If he asks, I tell him I’m knitting another scarf or blanket, which I keep next to me in case he checks.
I can’t wait to show him tonight. Not show. Ugh!
Another not-so-subtle brush of his knuckles along my bottom.My skin prickles, and I lose it. Hands plunged in the soapy water, I flick my wrist to send a little splash his way.
He startles, chest bolstering, shoulders tensing.What the—he pauses, his whole body turning toward me.Did you just?—
“Uh-huh,” I confirm with mischief lighting up my blood.
His breath quickens in my head, growing heavier. I glance down at his gloved hand as he clenches it and reaches to retrieve his cane from the back door hook. Uh oh.
Tsk, tsk, tsk, my Belle. Only just healed, but so eager for Sir’s punishments.
The second I try to leap out of the way, he catches me, seizing my waist and dragging me into the bookshop. When I playfully poke his sides and try to escape again, he plucks me right up from the floor and throws me over his shoulder, knocking the wind out of me and scattering my curls in front of my face.
I don’t kick and scream or struggle as he carries me up the wrought iron staircase to the second level, but I do lower my hands along the base of his sexy back until I grip his ass. He flexes. Holy hotness, steel glutes! Where do they make fucking men like him?
He was a highwayman, you silly, starry-eyed bookworm.
I love how he smacks my ass at the top of the staircase as if to reinforce how I’m healed, and he’s about to enact some punishment.
When he lowers me back to the floor, my cheeks hotter than ever, Jack grips the back of my neck and slowly turns me toward the corner bookshelves with the stepladder right in front of me.
Is my Belle going to be a good girl for Sir?
He gives my neck a gentle nudge, and my breath hitches before I nod, “Yes, Sir.”
Good. Select a book on that shelf. And read to me.
I wonder where he’s going with this, but I know better than to ask, which would be a form of disobedience. It’s no coincidence that he brought me to the smut section—a genre I love but naturally have upstairs out of sight from children. Around the corner from these shelves, three swinging egg chairs offer the perfect place to read said smut.
Maybe I displayed a few more fall/Halloween-themed books. And maybe, I instinctively and daringly curve my fingers around a short and very smutty one that clearly proves I have a twisted imagination.
Jack doesn’t speak, but I feel him grow harder as I open the book—Jack: Halloween Monster Erotica by Layla Fae—prop it on the stand in front of the stepladder, flip a few pages to the smutty part, and begin…
“You will get down on your knees,” he said, slowly, savoring each word, “and you will suck my cock, and when I come in your mouth, you will swallow every drop of my cum. And you will enjoy it.”
I can practically feel my Jack tilting his invisible head.What a naughty, filthy girl you are, my lovely Belle.
I can’t help but grin from ear to ear as I continue:
Her mouth watered, and her mind sparked with curiosity. What was he hiding in those pants? Was that just a normal, albeit large, human penis? Or was it something else entirely? She had to find out.
Jack’s breath heaves in my mind. I can’t help but wonder the same about his cock. It feels normal. Large but normal.
My breath hitches, and I grip the stepladder as Jack’s gloved fingers raise the hem of my burnt orange-colored dress. He tucks them into my belt, and I shiver as he peels my thin, black leggings down until they gather at my knees.
Fingering my bold accessory since I rarely wear thongs, he chuckles darkly through our bond and adds,Someone has been longing for Sir’s attention, hasn’t she? Look at you…His fingers roam across my pussy, which has already ruined the flimsy fabric with its wetness.So eager. So ready. So responsive. So…mine. My Belle.
Does he want me to answer? Since he didn’t tell me to stop reading, I take a deep breath and go on, reading about Suzy kneeling, her mouth watering as he unzipped, cock springing free.
“Suzy forgot how to breathe. She stared at the monstrosity in front of her, disbelief and fear flowing through her veins, her heart pounding so hard shecould feel it in her clit. Because Jack’s cock was not a human penis.Mmm…” I whimper from him shifting the thong aside to expose my pussy, but he gives my wet lips a warning slap. “Ow!”
Whimpers and cries are not permitted when you are reading, Belladonna.
Oh, god! It gets me so hot when he scolds me with my full name.
