"It's not your business."
"You don't have to spend it on her. You have enough to do more to me."
He removed her hand. "Go upstairs."
"Then, come back."
"Go upstairs now."
She slipped off of his lap and bent over to gather up her dress and the money, of course the money, which provided him with a tempting view of her ass and the lush tuft of pubic hair between her legs from that reverse position. It was almost enough to make him capitulate to her-but that wasn't the point. The point was to push her and push her until she stopped this nonsense-or until he pushed himself into her tight, hot little cunt.
She turned to look at him, mutely begging for him to come with her even as he began tucking away his still jutting penis.
"I don't care what you want, fancy-piece." Did he not?
"Don't go to her. I can give you what she can give you."
"Not quite yet you can't, fancy piece. You can't accommodate me between your legs."
"When, then? When will you do it to me?" she demanded as she dressed, her body electric with arousal and jealousy of the mistress for whom he still had enough cream that he could go to her after everything they had done this night and still fuck.
"When I feel like it," he said callously. He had to get her upstairs-and soon. He took her by the arm. "You agreed." So tempting. So erotic, her standing there in such disarray. He wrapped his arm around her neck, draping it over her shoulder so that he could just compress her nipple, and he marched her toward the door. "This is what a man pays for. Not for your demands or your desires and wants and needs. His desires and needs. And now, Í don't need you any more tonight." He withdrew his fingers from her breast and turned her to pull her bodice back up to cover her nudity.
He was unspeakable, she thought; a monster to fondle her nipple like that and just leave her. But he didn't care.
"Upstairs, fancy-piece." He opened the door and pushed her through. "I know you'll have sweet dreams."
Chapter Four
She lay in her bed, naked, her body hot and taut with desire, her skin meltingly soft, her breasts still faintly sticky with his residue. And she could still feel the compression of his fingers on her nipple; she stretched, languid as a cat, as her body reacted to the sensation.
Why wasn't he here to play with her nipples?
She heard her father come home, not minutes after she went upstairs. She heard the clock strike midnight, one, two, three o'clock.
Blast him. Blast him. He was with that cheap piece of hay-market ware he called a mistress and wasting all that luscious cream on her. It wasn't fair. It just wasn't fair. She could spread her legs as wide as any doxy. And if the only reason he wasn't fucking her tonight was her much vaunted maidenhead, well, she could take care of that easily-and it didn't even have to be with him.
Any cock would do, and it would serve him right if another man deflowered her. There were men who loved to go at a virgin full bang. And just to show him, she wouldn't even charge for the privilege.
And then he would never have a reason to root in that apple-wife's bang-box again.
Yes.
Her body went feverish with a heavy longing. Yes. She wanted his thick hot penis right now. And his wild wet tongue and devouring kisses. And his fingers constricting her nipple with just the perfect pressure that even the thought of it made her go weak. Yes.
She felt molten, liquid, breathless… yes...
She heard a sound, and she turned, startled, just in time to see him slip into her room, carrying a candle that he set down on the table by the door.
He turned the lock emphatically, and slowly he paced toward her, removing one piece of clothing at a time until he was naked and thick and erect, aroused beyond saving. And beside her suddenly on the bed, dangling the house key before her, the triumphant symbol of his power.
"I couldn't get your tight little ass out of my mind, so I came for it."
Her breath caught. Yes.
"Turn over."
She rolled onto her belly, and she felt his arm slide roughly under her hips and lift her onto her knees. And then-and then his hands, his big hot hands everywhere on her buttocks, feeling and squeezing and sliding into her virgin crease and exploring there, arousing her there. And then his mouth and tongue, licking, and nipping her curvy bottom, biting, sliding his tongue everywhere, working his erotic way down between her legs to her most secret place where he began a prolonged tonguing and sucking of her luscious slit.
She shimmied her bottom, working herself more tightly against the point of his taut tongue. She felt his stabbing movements coming closer and closer to penetrating her moist heat. She felt his hands on her buttocks, holding her, lifting her, positioning her so that she was canted at just the right angle for his tongue to take her.
Just… just… ahhhhh… the shocking moment when he slipped his tongue in, and then the luxurious lapping and sucking and pulling hard hard hard on her nakedness, riding her with his tongue, dissolving her, drawing her insides out… until she could do nothing but surrender in a long, low, gut-teral moan as a bolt of pleasure struck her down like lightning.
Slowly, he eased her down to the bed and turned her over so that she had full view of his nakedness as he bent over her and took her mouth in a hard, hot, possessive kiss that was permeated with the very essence of her.
He caged her with his body, his penis flexing between her breasts, and supporting himself on one arm so that he could take that one lush nipple between his fingers.
Her body jolted as she felt the erotic constriction of that thrusting point. His kiss was endless, harsh and rough with a man's uncontrollable desire, his need to possess her fueled by her pleasure, her nakedness, and by her squirming body enticing him as he played with her rigid nipple.
He couldn't get enough of that nipple. It was so taut, so responsive. He couldn't relinquish it as he pulled away from her mouth, a bare inch, and growled, "I'm never letting go of this teat."
And with those words, he knew there was no going back: he would take her, take her at her word, take her kisses, take her body, take her sex, because this was a battle he never could have won.
She writhed at the words, arching her upper body more tightly to his fingers. "Keep doing it. Harder. Do it to me."
"I intend to, fancy-piece. You've been cock teasing me for a good week now, and my patience just ran out. I paid for you and I'm taking what I want. Tonight. Sit up."
She levered herself up slowly so that she did not dislodge his fingers, and swung her legs over the bed, following his lead. He came around behind her, lightly twisting at the nipple to get his arm around her shoulder, so she was braced against his chest, and he rammed himself tightly against her bottom as he edged over to a small, armless boudoir chair.
He lowered himself into it, with her, back to front, on his lap, straddling his hot penis with his fingers still holding the point of her nipple.
She arched back languorously into his demanding kiss.
Oh, his kiss, his hot, voracious kiss. Her hands on the bulbous head of his penis, stroking it and playing with it as he suckled her tongue and held her nipples and made her want to surrender every naked part of her body to the mastery of his hands.
Somewhere in that kiss, he relinquished one nipple. Somewhere in that kiss, she felt the fingers of that hand probing her velvet heat, penetrating this way, one two three, twisting that way, one two three. And his fingers playing with her nipple, and his greedy, engulfing kiss…
Her body spasmed, seeking surcease, but he only intensified the pressure, the penetration, the kiss. She felt as though she was melting, her whole body just dissolving in his hands. She wanted his fingers to thrust deeper, tighter, harder between her legs, his kiss deeper, harder, hotter in her mouth. And his fingers squeezing her nipple… how did he know just the perfect pressure that made her want to run away from it, that made her want to lean into him because it was still not enough.