When I don’t oblige, she arches her spine a little more, rolling back to meet every brutal thrust, making her ass slam against my thighs.
I groan, wet my thumb, and dance it around the taut, pink, puckered ring that’s so beautifully exposed. She hisses, and the mewl she makes when I fill her with the thick digit spears straight to my cock.
Her pussy clamps down around me—a fluttered warning that makes me snarl.
“Ah ah—” I pull out and slap her flushed entrance. “Not yet.”
She whimpers, rocking back, spreading herself so much more—red, swollen, and glistening.
A gaping invitation.
I fist my cock as the door shoves open, rusted hinges creaking. A broad-shouldered man draped in black fills the entry.
The woman squeals, and I still. Hear him sniff. Sense his stare grating across the cooped and craggy surrounds.
Inviting himself in, he shuts the door and leans against the wall near the bedside table that’s sporting a small stack of silver coins and a blazing candelabra—the only source of light in this two-bit room.
He knocks back his hood and stark, silver eyes attack me.
“High M-Mas—”
Kicking my hips forward, I snip the woman’s words as I punch my iron length back into her warm, silky depths, groaning with every sunken inch.
Her high-pitched gasp is a mix of delirium and mortification, and she tries to edge across the rumpled sheets.
She doesn’t get far—tugged back so her ass is nice and snug against my thighs. I set my hand between her shoulder blades and push her deep into the straw-stuffed mattress, watching her cheeks flare as red as her ravaged pussy. “No need to get up and bow, beautiful. You’re already on your knees.”
Rhordyn crosses his arms, stare unwavering, even as the woman watches him with a hungry, wide-eyed wonder that seems to ignite her wet, fluttering cunt.
She likes being watched.
Guess we’ll give him a show. Payback for stalking in here without a single fucking knock.
I smirk, pull back, and shove deep.
Hold his crucifying stare.
“I thought I cut you off.” His deep voice batters the sultry atmosphere.
My thoughts sway to the buffet bench pushed against the wall behind me; to the bottle of whiskey that’s almost empty, unlike the empty tumbler beside it.
I don’t bother to look guilty as I say, “Stole a silver candlestick on my way out the back door. Fetched a pretty price.”
“And you couldn’t think of anything else to spend it on but whiskey and whores?”
I shrug, glancing down, seeing my sweat-slicked abs tense with every brutal shove. “I’m not particularly creative,” I hiss through clenched teeth.
“Certainly not when you don’t try.”
“On the contrary. I think I’m trying.” I lean forward, lips brushing the shell of the woman’s ear as I murmur, “Wouldn’t you say?”
She releases a strangled moan.
With a low chuff that tastes like whiskey and bad decisions, I fist the sheer, black fabric of her shift, pulling her up until she’s flush against me, bared for Rhordyn with smudged rouge and smoky eyes that are heavy hooded, brazenly suggestive. She holds his gaze even as he holds mine with a detached apathy that only spurs me on.
I pinch the frilly neckline, pulling it down, spilling her full breasts that bounce every time I thrust into her. With a coarse moan, she tips her head back into the crook of my neck as I knead the heavy mounds until her nipples are pebbled.
I’m not much of a tit man, but perhaps Rhordyn is. Perhaps he likes seeing her bound and fucked and hopeless—though I doubt it.
