Page 33 of Hunted By the Headless Horseman
“What does itfeellike I’m doing, Jack?”
My mouth waters at the sight of that bulge growing harder the more I work at undoing his belt and buttons. Thanks to his suspenders, I have to push his heavy leather coat off his shoulders, and I can’t fathom how he’s not sweating in everything. After jerking his leathers to his knees, I’m finally face to face with that massive shower throbbing in his drawers. It doesn’t look like a monster cock…so far.
Fuck, Belle,he says, voice so deep and gravelly.
“Soon,” I assure him. “This first.”
Does my girl want Sir’s cock?
Moment of truth.
Slowly, achingly, and terrifyingly, I peel down his drawers. I hope my other sigh of relief isn’t too audible. I don’t know why my thoughts took me to all sorts of crazy places. His head is cursed and gone, not his dick. As he’s shared, Jackson Elias Moore was and still is a man. A well-endowed man. Make thatverywell-endowed.
He’s not a monster with an orange cock topped with a mini pumpkin. Okay, I am clearly twisted to have that image in my mind. But he’s so damn hung, Jack has to lower one hand to lift his swollen organ. There’s something even sexier about the black-gloved hand holding the base.
As soon as I slide my fingertips along his inner thighs, Jack’s cock jerks. I flinch but don’t remove my fingers. Pre-cum already leaks at the crown. He’s so thick and rigid, the girth so broad with a prominent and powerful vein running down the length.
And is that…? “Jack, oh, my bloody pumpkins. The ridges and veins here…” I trace them, noting the shadowy image they create. “It’s a head. Well, no. It’s a skull face.”
Belle…he growls, his strong hand coming down to grip my hair and coil it around his fist. He says nothing else. I wish I couldsee his real face. Would his jaw be hard? Would he bare his teeth in a hungry, feral snarl?
He doesn’t force me down. Oh, the dominance is dripping off him with his hand practically strangling my hair, but his control is unwavering. Like he’s been waiting forever for this moment, and he’s not about to waste it.
I’m not either.
A tremor ripples through me—one part terror and one part thrill. My breath withers when I remember the last time face-to-face with a dick right before it was halfway down my throat, shoving, pumping, choking…bruising. The type of bruising that reaches deep into your lungs and leaves a scar.
Jack throbs again. No words, though I can hear the heaviness of his breath in our bond.
Slowly, I lean in and nuzzle my cheek along the side. His sharp hiss in my mind assures me the touch was as intense for him as it was for me. I marvel at the hard steel encased in silky skin, skin strained so taut over his beautiful length. I call it beautiful…because it is. The masculine core of the man I’m honored to know.
I rub my lips along the smooth side of his cock, planting tender kisses on one side, opening my lips in a light kiss on the tip, then repeating on the other side. I trace my tongue along that skull face.
Jack’s breath heaves, a subtle growl thundering through our bond. His muscles flex as he releases a deep groan.
I inhale his scent, loving his natural musk, which reminds me of leather, smoky cedar, and earthy vetiver. No pumpkin spice. That’s just silly.
Are you planning to play with it all night, my Belle? Or do you have other filthy intentions?
I smile with my lips still gliding along his flesh. His dirty talk surges heat to my center. I love every word. I love how he plays with me. And when he tightens his grip, gives me one firm tug until I’m arching my throat, and rubs the silky crown along my lips, I whimper softly.
Open, Belladonna.
Oh, god, I love that commander tone.
Parting my lips, I ease my tongue out and trace a slow circle around the tip. At his side, his fingers flex, straining the gloves and producing that leathery, stretching noise. The knowledge that I’m pleasuring him surges more wet heat to my core. His forearms bulge with muscle beneath his collared shirt. The same with his chest muscles under his leather vest.
Have you ever…?
I fold my lips around the crown. I don’t want to talk about whether I’ve ever anything. Instead, I suck him deeper.
Fuck, Belle!He grunts, deepening his tone.Yes, deeper now, sweet girl. Curl your tongue around the base. That’s my dirty girl.
His praise and instructions turn me on. It’s not just about what he can reap. He’s teaching me, training me. A slight prickle stings the back of my neck, but I shove it away, scratching at it because it’s nothing like my past. Jack wants this connection with me, this bond.
I curl my tongue as he directs. And twist it all around in a spiral pattern while sliding deeper. One more growl has my sex clenching, and I tighten my suction.
Fuck, do you know how much I wish I could see you? The longing passion in your eyes as you take my manhood?
