Page 11 of Doxy for the Ton
“Too what?” she asked, a smirk on her lips. “Too much?”
The tide of pleasure swelled and Alexander focused his mind on his breathing—long and slow—to divert his mind from her wicked ministrations.
She gave his sac a gentle squeeze, and a fizz of pleasure tore through him—tortuous pleasure…
“W-witch…”
She laughed. “I’ve been called worse,Your Grace.”
Then she removed her hands and he let out a groan of loss. He jerked upward and, with a swift, slick motion, she impaled herself on him.
“Fuck!” he cried out, as the burst of pleasure threatened to disintegrate him.
“Now who’s got a filthy mouth?” she taunted him, but before he could respond, she withdrew, then thrust forward once more. He gripped his hands about her waist, then she tilted her hips. His cock surged as her body squeezed him, and he could swear he saw stars.
“Sweet Lord, woman—how did you learn to dothat?”
She grinned. “Have I earned an extra sovereign?”
Must she remind him that she only sought to pleasure him for the sake of his coin?
Then he checked himself. Weren’t those the terms by which he entered into any relationship with a woman? Why, then, did her actions make him feel less of a man, rather than more?
Perhaps it was because, unlike the other women he’d rutted, she took no pleasure from the act. In fact, unlike most doxies, she didn’t even trouble to give the appearance of pleasure. She might as well have been his steward, working on a ledger.
“Mimi, I… Oh!” he cried out as she thrust against him once more, the glorious sensation almost too much to bear. “S-slow down, woman, for pity’s sake!”
She paused, her eyes dark against her painted face. “Let me earn my coin,” she said, and he winced at the hard edge to her voice, akin to anger.
He pulled her close and leaned forward to claim her mouth, but she jerked her head to one side.
“Kiss me, woman,” he growled.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“It’s not what you’re paying for.”
“It is, if that’s what I want.”
She squeezed his cock with her body again. He was close, and judging by the triumph in her eyes, she knew it—curse her, sheknewit.
“Tonight is aboutyourpleasure, Your Grace,” she said.
“And yours?” he replied. “I want to please you.”
She grew still. “Why?”
“It’s what I do—give women pleasure.”
Longing flickered in her eyes, then she let out a harsh laugh.
“Would it stoke your pride if I showed pleasure, Your Grace?” she said. “Or perhaps screamed your name? For an extra coin I could promise to tell everyone I encounter that you took me like a bull.”
Shame rose in his gut. “Don’t say such things.”
“Then don’t be talking about my pleasure,” she said. “My body may be for sale—but no man will have my pleasure.”
