Harlot Page 8

  She’d wanted it. More of it. She’d pressed higher and higher toward it, and finally something miraculous had happened. Something so sweet and bright and overwhelming that her cries of pleasure had turned into sobs. Just thinking about it began to melt her inside again.

  Is that what men felt every time? Is that why they were so greedy and grasping, their faces turning from familiar and polite into an animal grimace of need? The sensation had made her groan and scream. Her throat was still hoarse with it.

  Caleb sighed against her neck. His hand slipped along her hip, then back to her waist. “You’re still so beautiful, Jess.”

  She might have wept at those words if she hadn’t been distracted by the slow drag of his hand as it shaped her hip. This time his hand slid all the way up her ribs to her breast.

  “So perfect,” he whispered.

  She felt his cock move against her, swelling as his thumb brushed her nipple. She was hardening again too, her nipple pressing into his fingers. His hand barely moved, and he held her as if she were a treasure.

  Jessica decided to pretend.

  She closed her eyes and let herself feel what she wanted.

  “You’re so soft,” he breathed. “I can’t believe how soft you are.”

  Yes. This was their bed, and she was his wife, and he still loved her. She wanted him to touch her everywhere, make her feel him everywhere. She wanted to give him everything over and over because they belonged together. Like this. Alone and naked with his cock growing hard against her.

  He caught her nipple tight between his fingers, and she inhaled sharply.

  “Do you like that, Jess?”

  She was ashamed to say it. But there was no shame here in their bed, because she could pretend he loved her. She closed her eyes and refused to remember the truth. “Yes.”

  “God,” he muttered, his fingers tightening again.

  The pleasure of it shot through her. She arched into his hand, her hips pressing closer to his. He grunted and moved against her. His cock settled snugly between the cheeks of her bottom.

  “I didn’t know you’d like it,” he murmured, his fingers plucking now, pinching her nipple until she squirmed and moaned. She hadn’t known either. Surely she wasn’t supposed to enjoy it. She’d been raised as a gentlewoman, but perhaps that wasn’t her true nature. Perhaps the reason she’d said yes to this—to all of this—was because that was how she was made. To be used, pleasured, violated.

  “And this,” he said, his hand abandoning her nipple to slide down her naked belly. His fingers touched her curls and pushed on. “You like this.” He found her slit and stroked over the wetness there.

  “Yes,” she gasped, her hips jerking against his touch.

  He rocked into her, pumping his shaft between her cheeks with a moan.

  “Yes.” She parted her legs a little so he could touch more of her. Yes, she liked it. She loved it. And if a woman could pay to feel this way, maybe she’d pay for it too. She’d pay him to do everything he wanted. To fuck and suck and kiss and stroke.

  “I like it,” she panted as his fingers played with her, stroking up and down between her legs. “I like it.”

  “Yes,” he rasped, working himself against her ass. “Yes. You love it.”

  “I do.” She put her hand to his and pressed him lower, deeper, pushing his fingers inside her. “I love you,” she groaned.

  His hand jumped, and she knew she shouldn’t have admitted it, but it didn’t matter. This wasn’t real. She was only pretending.

  “Oh, God. Jess.” His fingers pushed too roughly, and she didn’t care. His other hand wound into her hair to pull her head back. His mouth opened on her neck as he fucked her with his hand, his hips still pumping against her ass. Her cheeks grew slick, and he moved more easily now, sliding so sweetly along her. She arched and writhed, wanting more, wanting that sensation again. She could feel it there, distant and shimmering, taunting her.

  “You love it, damn you,” he growled into her wet neck. “You love it.”

  “Yes!” She was his. His harlot or lover or wife. It didn’t matter.

  “I want you from behind,” he said, his voice so deep she barely understood him.

  She moaned, “Please. Please.” She knew that, at least. He wanted her on her knees like an animal. She’d done that. She’d do it for him.

  He moved away from her, leaving her back cold. Jessica forced her weak muscles to work. She drew her knees up and rolled over, pushing up on her arms. She waited a moment, eyes still closed, but Caleb didn’t touch her. She heard his footsteps. Heard the boards of the floor creak. Just as she opened her eyes, the bed dipped again. She tensed, waiting for him to enter her. But he didn’t.

  His hand touched her bottom. His fingers slipped between her cheeks, and something cool and slick touched the tight hole of her ass. She flinched.

  “Caleb?” she whimpered, but he didn’t shy away. Instead, he pressed more firmly. She tensed in utter shock, but his fingertip slid in.

  Jessica winced, expecting pain and ready to move away. This wasn’t what she’d meant. It wasn’t what she wanted.

  But she knew it was done. More than one man had told her he’d like to do it. In fact, Mr. Steele the butcher, who would’ve tipped his hat to her during her previous life, had leaned close at the dry goods store and whispered about how he’d like to grease her ass and fuck her there.

  Jessica stared wide-eyed at the headboard as his finger pushed slowly deeper. It didn’t hurt, but it felt strange. Wrong. She panted, her breath drying her throat. His finger moved in and out, sending an odd pleasure spiraling through her.

  “Oh,” she breathed, her eyes fluttering closed. That strange pressure wound around inside her.

  He pulled free of her, and now even that felt odd. The emptiness. As if she’d already settled into the violation. Apparently that was all it took with her now. A brush of degradation and she wanted more.

  She caught the lavender scent of her skin cream. He touched her bottom again, and this time he penetrated her easily, though she still flinched away. But then he began to fuck her with his finger, a slow glide that made her relax, and then whimper. Then her arms grew weak and her thighs trembled. Sweet promise hovered at the edges of her soul again. This was wrong. So wrong. But that certainty only made the pleasure more intense.

  “Caleb,” she sighed, her arms collapsing, hips pushing up. She pressed her forehead to the pillow and groaned. She wanted to tell him to stop, but she was too afraid he would. This shouldn’t feel so good. It shouldn’t. But even without him touching her pussy, the wet, hot center of her was throbbing now, tightening with each slide of his finger into her bottom. “God,” she groaned. “No.”

  She moved her hand to her pussy, to the place that ached, pushing hard against it, wanting it to stop, but that made the ache worse. She shook her head against the pillow even as she tipped her hips up for more.

  His finger slid free. “Please,” she begged. “Please, Caleb.” The pleasure was rolling closer, closer, like the thunder above them. She needed it to break over her.

  She heard the sound of a wet stroke on his cock, then more cold slickness against her. This time he pressed harder. She felt her body opening for him. Stretching. “Caleb,” she gasped, knowing he was pushing inside her now, not his finger but his cock.

  “Wait, wait,” she panted, thinking she’d tell him now. That she’d never done this, that she couldn’t, that he needed to stop. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t right. It was wrong, so wrong.

  “Shhhhh,” he murmured. “Let me, Jess. You said you’d let me.” His hand caressed her hip. The pressure eased a bit, and she tried to catch her breath. It burned a little but it didn’t hurt exactly. She just felt…full. Full of his body and his need. Completely taken over.

  Both of his hands spread over her hips now, stroking, soothing, but his cock was still tight inside her. “I want you every way, Jess,” he said. “Every way. I want to touch each part of you. Explore every inc
h of you before it’s all over.”

  No. She shook her head. It wouldn’t be over. Tonight she could make this what she wanted. Caleb was her husband. He loved her. He always would. She’d give him everything. She wanted to be filled with him. To feel nothing but his cock impossibly tight in her. To know nothing but that. She needed to be violated so thoroughly that there was never anything but this. This night, this act, this man.

  She pressed the heel of her hand between her legs, and the shock of pleasure made her groan low and deep like a beast. Caleb’s stroking fingers went still. Then they firmed on her hips, turning from a touch to a grip.

  Jessica pressed harder, rolling her hand against the ache, moaning as sharp, sweet need shot through her.

  Caleb pulled back and then sank a little deeper. “Yes,” he growled. “Give me this, Jess. Give me everything.”

  “Yes,” she answered, the word a broken gasp.

  “What you gave to other men.”

  “Yes,” she lied.

  He moved slowly within her, in and out, a careful slide. His cock pulled at her stretched, burning flesh, sending ripples of sensation that pressed from inside her while her hand pressed from the outside. The pleasure squeezed her.

  She cried out, wanting to claw her way to that peak she’d reached before.

  “Do you like this too, Jess?”

  His fingers dug into her skin. His hips moved faster, still careful though, still smooth and easy.

  “Do you like it like this? In your ass?”

  Oh, God. She circled her hand faster, the pleasure twisting harder inside her while her mind spun with it. How good it felt. How wrong it was. How filthy and sinful and dirty. “With you,” she finally moaned.

  “What?”

  “With you. I like it with you.” She forced the words past her dry throat. “I like it. I need it. With you.”

  “Jesus, yes,” he hissed. His thrusts got a little rougher, and she didn’t care. She pushed her fingers into her pussy and cried out. There was nothing in the world now but the pleasure building, building. Nothing but his cock shoving everything out of her until she was pure again. Pure and filthy and swelling up with it.

  “I need it. Please. Please. Please.” The pressure squeezed too tight, and she broke with a scream of joy and shock and desperation. A feral cry tore from her as that pressure broke open and rolled through her in wave after wave.

  She heard Caleb’s grunt as if he were very far away. She felt his cock jerk and pulse inside the tight ring of her flesh. She pressed back to take him deeper as her own climax continued on, the waves gentling little by little.

  She loved it. This was what she was. “Please,” she panted into the pillow. “Please. With you.”

  Caleb’s breath broke like a sob. He shuddered behind her, his grip firm enough to leave bruises. Jessica slipped her fingers out of her body and dragged them along her slit for a last taste of shivering pleasure. Her muscles spasmed one more time.

  “Jess,” he sighed, a final gasp of intimacy to fuel her sad imagination. For a long moment, neither of them moved. Then his hands relaxed their grip. He slid slowly free of her body, the sensation making her hold her breath.

  She let herself fall to the mattress. She was empty now. And cold. Caleb settled the covers over her, but she didn’t feel warmer. Her body was done. Limp with exhaustion.

  She heard him wash again. Heard the rustle of his clothing as he dressed. The rain had stopped. He could leave.

  She tried not to feel devastated when he did.

  Chapter 9

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  Caleb was having trouble concentrating on the conversations that danced around him. The voices blended into the birdsong and fiddle music and rustling leaves. None of it felt real. His real self was still in that bedroom during the storm with Jessica.

  “Caleb,” his mother scolded, drawing his unwilling attention.

  He squinted to see her shaded face against the sunlight. Her bonnet created a foot-wide circle of darkness.

  She tut-tutted at him. “You shouldn’t have stayed out so late last night. You look ready to fall asleep, and it’s my birthday picnic.”

  “I’m sorry, Mother. Can I get you another glass of lemonade?”

  “No, sit with me a while,” she said, patting the delicate chair beside her.

  Caleb could remember a time when their picnics had been nothing but blankets on dirt, but that life was not for her anymore. She was happy. He wouldn’t begrudge that what made her happy caused him to squirm like a pinned bug. His mother loved him, and she always had. He couldn’t say the same about another living soul.

  “What a lovely day,” his mother sighed.

  “Indeed.” The storms had washed every bit of dust and cloud from the sky. The clear, bright blue hurt his eyes.

  “Did you see Mildred with her new grandbaby? I can’t believe her son is a father now. Weren’t you two friends?”

  Caleb frowned, trying to concentrate on these people who meant nothing to him. “Tommy?” he asked. “Tommy Shrop?”

  “Yes, Tommy! He goes by Tom now, of course. He’s an attorney. They’re off to Kansas next month.”

  That seemed right. Tommy had been one of the boys who’d courted Jessica. One of the boys who’d sneered at Caleb. Eyes narrowed, Caleb looked around for Tommy Shrop but didn’t see him.

  “You’ll have to settle down soon too, don’t you think, Caleb? You could come back here. Stay close for a while. Find a wife. California is so awfully far away.”

  Find a wife. He couldn’t imagine a woman he’d like well enough to spend the rest of his life with. Work with. Talk with. Lie with at night. Jessica had been the only one to touch his interest that way. The only one he could imagine having a lifelong conversation with. It hadn’t been just her beauty. It had been her laughter, her words, the way her mind worked. The only girl smart enough to make him feel smart too.

  “Can you imagine the stars, Caleb?” Jess had asked into the night sky once. “Can you imagine that each one is a sun just like our own?”

  “Shining on other worlds?” he’d asked, craning his neck to see what she saw.

  “Yes. A million other worlds.” And he could see it, then. Just as she’d described.

  Caleb looked at his mother. “I meant to marry Jessica,” he said.

  “Oh.” Her mouth formed a circle of disapproving shock, as if a fat raindrop had just fallen on her day. “You must forget about her.”

  “Must I? You liked her once. Loved her as a daughter, even. You wrote to me that she came to dinner once a week to keep you and Theodore company.”

  Her face crumpling into a frown, his mother stared down at her gloved hands. “She did. What happened was so unfortunate.”

  “Did you try to help her?”

  “How could I help a woman like that? How could you even ask me to speak of such things? You must forget her, Caleb. Find a good, decent woman.”

  A good, decent woman. Not a woman who’d get on her knees. Not a woman who’d love it like that.

  “Caleb,” his stepfather said beside him, and Caleb jumped. He’d fallen so quickly into his memory of Jessica that he hadn’t heard Theodore approach.

  “Sir.” Caleb stood to offer the chair next to his mother, but his stepfather waved it off.

  “You’ve been coming in late,” he said gruffly.

  “Yes, sir.” Caleb tamped down the urge to snap at the man that it was none of his business.

  “I hope you’re not getting into trouble?”

  His mother cleared her throat. “He’s been out visiting at the Smith ranch.”

  “That right?” Theodore asked. “Are you looking to take up your old job there?”

  Caleb met the man’s eyes. “Just catching up with old friends.”

  “Some of those cowhands are pretty rowdy. See to it that you keep your visits respectable. Your associations have already embarrassed this family once.”

  Caleb’s mother rose in a rustle of skirts. “Let’s j
ust leave that behind, Mr. Durst. I’d love a stroll, Caleb. It’ll be cool over by the stream.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said, offering his arm and fighting the urge to growl at his stepfather. He turned his back on Theodore and walked his mother toward the creek.

  He could play at polite patience. He could wait through this day. Tonight he’d see Jessica again, and his heart clenched at the thought.

  She’d loved it last night. She’d loved him. Maybe she’d said she loved him as part of the paid service, but when she’d whispered that into the pillow, it had seemed pure and true as he’d done wicked, wonderful things to her body.

  He’d thought this bargain would leave him with some satisfaction. Instead he wanted more. More of her in more ways. He’d spent the morning racking his brain, trying to remember every filthy thing he’d heard other men speak of. He barely had any experience of his own. He’d spent a few coins for a woman’s mouth here and there, but only once for a fuck, and he’d never done what he’d done with Jessica last night. Next he wanted her hand on his cock. And he wanted to watch her ride him. Then he wanted to kneel over her and—

  Caleb rolled his shoulders back and made himself stop thinking. He was escorting his mother through her own party and even that couldn’t keep thoughts of Jessica at bay.

  “Oh, Caleb, look!” his mother cooed, her arm tightening on his. “It’s that lovely Miss Annabelle. She was still a girl when you left, but look at her now. Ready to marry, I’d say.”

  He glanced obediently at the sweet, curvy blonde and imagined courting her. The idea felt more profane than the things he’d done with Jessica.

  His gaze slid past the girl to the group she picnicked with, then to the people beyond. The highest social class in this town. Folks who had time to picnic on a Tuesday. Had any of these men fucked Jess? Had any of them hurt her?

  He hated all of them, regardless. He couldn’t stay here in this town. He couldn’t live here and wonder. But when this week was over, how was he ever going to leave?

  Chapter 10