Harlot

by Victoria Dahl

  She wasn’t shy now. She stood naked before him as he tested the weight of her ass and sucked harder at that perfect pink nipple. God, the smell of her skin filled every dark place inside him and urged him to pull harder at the peak of her breast. She liked it. She actually fucking liked it as he worked her with his tongue.

  Her fingers dug into his scalp and the soft sounds she made wrapped around him, leaving him dizzy.

  Had she liked it this much with other men? The idea tormented him and got swept along in the blood that rushed to his cock. He nudged his knee hard against her thigh, forcing her legs apart. If she wanted to be fucked so much, he’d fuck her, damn it.

  He slid one hand down her ass, his heart tripping over itself because he was about to touch her pussy. Her bare pussy, open to him. His fingers found the soft heat of her, and her groan snapped into a gasp as she jumped against him.

  Caleb frowned. He’d expected to find wetness. He’d heard enough men brag about getting their women so damn wet that they’d nearly slid right off the bed. And Caleb didn’t have much experience with whores, but he distinctly remembered the searing pleasure of wet heat around his cock.

  He hated that he even cared. His spit was wet enough. He could spit into his hand and grease his cock and fuck her as hard and long as he wanted. His cock throbbed at the idea. Yes. That would be enough.

  “Lie down,” he said.

  Jessica nodded, her hand going to cover her breasts as she stepped back, as if he hadn’t been sucking them a second before.

  She skirted around him to the foot of the bed, the perfect paleness of her round ass catching his eye. Fuck, she was lovely. The loveliest whore he’d ever glimpsed.

  His cock strained at his trousers. Caleb stood and unbuttoned his fly as Jessica slipped onto the bed and lay on her back. Legs together, she eyed him warily as he took his freed cock in hand.

  He couldn’t help his groan as he stroked his prick, squeezing it hard to offset the ache. Jessica’s eyes widened as she watched him, and something fierce and ugly in him felt satisfied at that. Yes, he wanted to say, look at my cock. Know that it’s about to fuck you. He ground his teeth to hold back the words, though he didn’t know why he bothered. He’d paid for the right to say anything he wanted.

  Easing her legs apart with one knee, he put his weight to the mattress and knelt over her, straddling her white thigh. He realized he hadn’t removed his trousers, and he didn’t care enough to stop. He kept stroking himself, and she kept her eyes on him. He could come like this, he realized. Paint her with his seed while she watched. The idea of it slammed through him, that he could do something so degrading with this woman he’d once loved.

  But not this time. This time he wanted inside her.

  He spit into his hand and stroked his cock again. Her breathing quickened, small breasts rising and falling faster now.

  Just to be sure, he licked his fingers and spread his saliva over her too. Her hips bucked against him. He slowed his movement and rubbed his spit more thoroughly into her pussy.

  Jessica gasped, and her thighs parted a fraction of an inch more. He could see the pink of her now, a glimpse of it between her dark red curls, and he found himself fascinated by the sight. He dragged his fingers along her, startling a little when she moaned. He touched that spot again, and Jessica whimpered, her hand twisting into the bedding. Her knees fell open.

  Now she was wet of her own accord. He could see the deep pink lips of her spread pussy and the shine of moisture there. Dipping his fingers into her, he closed his eyes at the shock of heat. He stroked her there, over and over, returning to the spot that made her gasp every time. “You like this,” he whispered in surprise.

  The knowledge was a hot sword through his chest. He’d been afraid to touch her for so many years, but this was what she was.

  He pushed her thighs wide with a curse and notched his cock against her hot, wet pussy. He sank deep, driving into her in one thrust that shoved a cry from her throat.

  She squeezed her eyes shut as he drove in again. “Look at me,” he ordered as her heat seared him. He wanted her to know it was him, not some fancy man from Denver come for a night of sin. “Look at me while I fuck you.”

  She opened her eyes and looked at him. Caleb had to force himself to slow or he’d come in three strokes. He’d waited a lifetime for this, and though it wasn’t what he’d planned for, it was all he’d get.

  Holding himself up on his hands, he pulled almost all the way out before he slowly sank deep again, watching the way her mouth opened on a breath. Her eyes held his gaze, and God, he was lost for a moment. He could imagine that he hadn’t paid for this. That it was good and right. Her blue eyes shimmered in the lamplight, and it might have been love that made them sparkle. Maybe her pretty pink nipples were hard because he’d worshiped them as her husband. Maybe she’d never spread her legs for another man.

  He held himself deep inside and lowered his chest until his body was pressed to hers, and then he kissed her. Amazingly, he remembered the taste of her. The tormenting, singular taste of her as her lips softened beneath his. He licked at her, and her mouth opened for him. Caleb groaned as he touched his tongue to hers.

  God, yes. It felt just like the first time they’d kissed, only now he was inside her, his cock buried in her pussy, her heat squeezing him.

  Jessica’s arms wound around his back, and oh, God above, that was sweet. Her nails dug into him as he took her mouth and pussy and made them his. He kissed her more thoroughly, fucked her more slowly, wanting it to last forever. It was beautiful. Right. They could’ve had this every night if she’d only waited. They could’ve had this.

  Anger blossomed inside him. Caleb tore his mouth away and pushed up on his hands. Her nails scratched him as he pulled back, the pain making him buck against her and thrust deep. He did it again and again, fucking her hard enough to make her cry out with each thrust. Fucking her in a way he never would have dared, except she hadn’t waited. Not for him. The sound of skin against skin satisfied his rage.

  “Fuck,” he muttered as the awful pleasure swelled his cock and drew his balls tight. “Fuck yes. Yes.”

  He came hard, feeling the pulse of it as he emptied his seed into her. “Yes,” he growled one last time, still fucking her, hoping she could feel the way he filled her up.

  The anger receded as if he’d emptied himself of rage instead of come. Caleb stilled. Opened his eyes.

  He expected to find her face turned from him, but Jessica hadn’t looked away. She still watched him, her lips parted in shock. A tear slipped from her eye and disappeared into the hair at her temple. Her pupils were wide and black, her mouth wet and red.

  Caleb pulled from her body and got up to back away from the bed.

  He buttoned his pants and snatched up his shirt from the floor before she’d closed her legs. He scrubbed a hand over his head in an attempt to erase the vision of her beneath him, watching as he tried to hurt her.

  “I’ll be back tomorrow,” he said as he stuffed his shirttail into his trousers and tugged up his suspenders. “Remember, you’re not to entertain anyone else.”

  She didn’t answer. She only pulled the blankets over her naked body.

  Caleb shoved his feet into his boots and grabbed his coat. He escaped into the dark hallway and didn’t look back at her face aglow in the night.

  Chapter 7

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  She’d been too tired to do anything but move weakly downstairs to bolt the door before washing herself and pouring one more shot of whiskey. Then, head swimming, she’d climbed back to the second floor and fallen into the twisted covers of her bed.

  She felt just as weak in the morning. Strange and muffled. Not from the drink, but from the shock. The night with him hadn’t been what she’d expected.

  Staring up at the dawn light that filtered through her curtains, Jessica tried to puzzle it out. Caleb had done the things she’d known he would do, yet none of it had felt normal. Or rather…none of it had fe
lt awful. Even when his face had turned fierce and angry and his cock had bruised her from the inside out…even then it had felt like something she’d needed.

  And before that? Oh, the prelude had been torturous. Knowing what they were doing was wicked and filthy and wanting more of it. More of his mouth on her breast. More of his hand between her legs. More of him stroking his cock like he was taunting her with a weapon.

  Heat grew between her legs at the thought. It pressed into her¸ urging her to part her thighs for him again. Instead, she squeezed her legs tight together, but just that sparked remnants of the feelings he’d created with his fingers the night before.

  She’d been wrong about what happened between men and women. Wrong the first time, and wrong again. It was neither the sweet, sacred poetry she’d once imagined nor the bullying violation she’d experienced a few months back. With Caleb it had felt…primitive. Something flowing beneath the surface of her world that she’d never known was there.

  Jessica had thought herself thrust into whoredom by circumstances, but perhaps it was what she truly was, because last night she’d spread her legs and pushed her hips up for more, wanting him to do it.

  Until last night, she’d never really looked at a man’s member. She’d only caught glimpses and hadn’t wanted even that. But with Caleb… She’d looked at his hard, thick penis and she’d felt fear, but something deep inside her soul had said yes. Every stroke of his fingers across her private parts had been an affirmation. Yes, yes, that, inside me. She’d been empty and he’d filled her, and it had been as simple as that.

  But it hadn’t truly been simple, because he’d punished her as well. He’d caught himself each time he’d been gentle and quickly called back his anger. And that had felt right too. She’d wanted that as much as the other. She hated what she’d done, and that bitter part of her needed filling too. Perhaps he could fuck that shame and hurt away for both of them.

  He would come back tonight to try again, and Jessica would have to be ready.

  She dressed quickly, choosing a work dress that was fraying at the hem. She’d need her better dresses for her evenings this week, which was a strange thought after all these months.

  Melisande was at work in the kitchen, having used the hidden string Bill had hooked to the latch of the back door so they could let themselves in.

  “How was your visit last night?” she asked as she slowly strained milk from a pail into a pitcher.

  “Good,” Jessica said, her face flaming so hot she thought her ears might smoke.

  “He left quickly,” Melisande commented.

  Had it been quick? She supposed it must have been. There’d been no shared conversation, no tea and sweets. Jessica cleared her throat and got to making biscuits. It was one of the few things she was good at in this new life.

  After listening to be sure there was no sign of Bill nearby, she cleared her throat again, and the blush returned. “Do you know any ways to keep a child from catching?” she asked. “I mean, I assume you’ve heard these things?”

  Melisande eyed her for a moment. “Haven’t you?”

  “No. I was just lucky.”

  “All right. Well, for after the fact there’s parsley tea or rue. When did you last bleed?”

  “Weeks ago,” Jessica said. “Almost three weeks.”

  “That’s good. Then parsley tea for a week until you bleed.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Try to get him to finish on your stomach instead. It helps if it’s not all inside you. They like to show off that way, anyhow.”

  Yes, she could imagine that. Look how proudly he’d already stroked himself for her.

  “So.” Melisande dried her hands on her apron. “You don’t know much for a whore, if you don’t mind my saying.”

  Jessica felt a strange shame that she hadn’t told her new friend the whole truth. “It was…only a few times. My father died. I needed money. I thought no one would find out.”

  Melisande nodded. “They didn’t keep quiet? I’m not surprised. Men like to brag about it almost as much as they like to do it.”

  “Yes,” Jessica said, although it was the man she’d refused who’d spread stories about her. He’d ruined everything. She should’ve just lain down for him. It would’ve been better.

  “Are you taking it up again? You told me I wouldn’t have to be a whore here.”

  “No,” she said quickly. “It’s not like that. It’s only this once. Taxes are due, and he…he’ll visit for a few days. That’s all. We struck a deal.”

  Melisande dipped her chin as if she understood. “All right. We’ll stay out of your way. Is there anything else you need to know?”

  “I…” She couldn’t think what to ask. She’d already exhausted half her store of sexual knowledge, but Caleb seemed to think there’d be much more. “What do they like?”

  “Men?” Her friend’s slow blink meant she was surprised by the question. “They’re simple folk. They like to fuck, play with your titties. Sometimes they want to slap your ass.”

  “Oh.” She hadn’t known about that.

  “They want to put it in your mouth, of course.”

  She nodded. She’d done that.

  “They’re usually pretty quick with that. Just suck it a little and let them watch you do it. That’s all. Some are rough about it, though. Pressing you down on it until you choke. They all like to finish in your mouth, so tell him beforehand if you can’t abide it.”

  “Just suck it?”

  “Yes. And don’t bite. Makes ’em mad as hell.” She grinned at that, showing off her straight teeth.

  Jessica laughed, amazed that she could do so.

  “Other than that, most of them are just plain lonely. Sometimes they want to hold you, pretend you’re the girl they love. If you’ve got the time, there’s nothing wrong with it. You can pretend too. Pretend he’s a sweet man who wouldn’t spit on you in the street if you said hello. Pretend it’s real. Sometimes just that will get you through another night.”

  Jessica laid out the biscuit dough and cut it into circles. She could pretend with Caleb. It would be easy. Her body warmed at the idea, and she blushed again. “You like it with Bill?” she asked quietly.

  “You mean in bed?”

  “Mm-hm.” She concentrated on the biscuits so she wouldn’t have to meet her friend’s eyes.

  “Yes. It happens sometimes, you know. Even with a stranger. Something about the way they touch you, the way they smell. A spark lights up inside you, maybe just for a moment. I got lucky with Bill. He felt it too, and it meant something to him, thank God.”

  “I’m so glad, Melisande. And I’m thankful that you two came here.”

  “We are too. We wandered for a while.”

  “You know…” Jessica hesitated, a little afraid to introduce the topic. “We haven’t spoken much of it, but you said you’d stay for a time. You could move back into the house. Both of you.”

  Melisande’s delicate eyebrows rose. “Both of us?”

  “Yes, you could have the back bedroom.”

  “We’re fine where we are.”

  “But it will be cold in the winter,” Jessica pressed, “if you mean to stay.”

  Melisande’s mouth relaxed into a smile. “We mean to stay. I’m not sure how you’d get rid of us. If it’s all right, Bill wants to find a small stove to keep us warm. But perhaps I’ll persuade him to come inside. It’s a sight nicer in here.”

  Jessica sighed, trying not to think of how alone she’d been the first few weeks. “You could move now.”

  “No, not now. For now, it’s nice. We open the shutters at night, and the stars shine down. You can smell any storm coming from miles away. Sometimes I lie there and I can see the moon and hear his heart beating under my ear, and…” She closed her eyes, her mouth quirked in a rueful smile. “Every once in a while, this feels like the only life we’ve ever had. It feels like this life belongs to us. But—” she shook her head and grabbed a rag “—it’ll be a bit
cold for that nonsense come winter.”

  Jessica laughed and tried to tamp down the envy she felt for them. That they loved each other. Accepted each other. That they could lie together at night and hold all the good in the world between them.

  Touching Caleb had felt nice, even with all the hurt wrapped up in it. If she hadn’t betrayed him, if he’d still loved her, Jessica could have looked up at the night sky and felt as if all of it belonged to them, in the only life they’d ever known.

  She’d never have that with him now. All she’d get were these next few nights. She’d done it for the money, but maybe tonight she’d do it just because she could.

  Chapter 8

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  “Are you spending the evening out again, Caleb?” his mother asked, her voice high with worry. “I feel as if I’ve hardly seen you.”

  He glanced around at his mother’s gathering of friends, all of whom smiled up at him as they waved elaborate lace fans in the summer heat.

  “Ladies,” he said with a nod. “Mother. I apologize. I’m off to the Smith ranch to see an old friend.”

  His mother made a sound of disappointment, but the oldest woman, Mrs. Crew, laughed and fluttered her fan at him. “Come now, Penelope. A young man like him doesn’t want to spend an evening in a parlor listening to old hens gossip. Let him have his fun.”

  He turned his hat in his hands, itching to get out of there. He was half embarrassed, knowing where he was headed, and half impatient for the same reason. “I’ll see you all at Mother’s picnic. If you’ll excuse me.”

  He’d never been comfortable inside a parlor, perched on a chair and forced to listen to the clock tick the day away. All he’d ever wanted was to be outside, driving cattle, working the land. Of course, he’d dreamed of coming home from a hard day to his own house, but it had only ever been Jessica there in his fantasies. And he’d always imagined a big porch where they could sit and share the last hours of a day¸ looking out at the sky.