Stand and Deliver (5 page)

He was about to charge in to save Bess from the stranger when the man tossed off his coat. The sight of a silver-handled pistol in a holster strapped to his side made Tim’s blood run cold.

If he rushed in now, the stranger would shoot him down in cold blood, without mercy, and then who would save Bess from him? He put down the stick again, taking care to make no noise. It was better to play a waiting game and to catch the man when his guard was down. That way he could save them both without risking his life in the process.

And in the meantime he could stare at Bess’ pink-tipped breasts, at the stranger’s hands on them, touching what he himself did not dare to touch, caressing what he did not dare to caress, taking what ought to belong to him and to no other.

He felt his cock grow hard in his breeches, harder even than when he had merely thought about Bess’ breasts in the dark of the night, alone in his hayloft. His cock was so hard that it hurt, and his bal s ached. Quietly he slipped one hand inside his breeches and stroked himself, shifting himself around the tree to get a better view of her nakedness. No one would see him here, or mock him for not being able to find a woman to tend to his needs.

Her breasts were ful and round. If it were his hands touching them, not the stranger’s, they would spil over, too big to be contained. And her nipples were a deep pink and as smal and tight as unripe cherries. They would be sweeter to the taste than cherries though, as sweet as sugar lumps.

As if he could hear Tim’s thoughts, the stranger bent his head and licked at her breasts, taking them into his mouth and suckling on them as a foal would suckle on its mother.

The sight was too much for him. He sank to his knees in the leaf mold and rested his head against the truck of the tree. Then he unlaced his breeches and took his cock firmly into his hand. He pumped furiously, imagining that it was his mouth on her breasts, his hands stroking the naked planes of her back, his thigh thrust between her legs and his hands on her buttocks, pul ing her closer.

Al too soon, he felt his cum rise to the top of his cock.

Throwing his head back and biting back his cries, he shot his seed into the base of the tree trunk.

Temporarily satisfied, he wiped his hand on a patch of moss and re-laced his breeches. The stranger was stil sucking on Bess’ breasts as if they were covered in honey, but the sight no longer had the power to arouse him. It disgusted him that Bess was so free with her body to al ow the man such liberties, but he could not look away.

But that was not the only liberty the stranger intended to take. He fel to his knees and put his head under Bess’

skirts. Heaven only knew what he was doing under there, but whatever it was, it made Bess as shameless as the vil age whore. She threw back her head, letting her black hair fal over her naked back, and gave a strangled cry of ecstasy.

Whatever it was, he needed to know so he could put that same look of bliss on her face and make her cry out for him in the same way.

The sight of Bess taking such sensual pleasure, and the thought of one day being the man to give it to her, made his cock twitch in his breeches again. So caught up was he in the idea of learning the trick to making her cry in such a fashion, that not until the stranger had scrambled out from under Bess’ skirts did he realize that he had lost his chance to rush in and play the hero.

Bitterly did he regret it when he realized what was happening now. The stranger had his hand on Bess’ head, and was forcing her to her knees and thrusting his swel ing breeches toward her mouth.

Though her fingers seemed ready enough on the stranger’s buttons, she must be protesting inside, he was sure of it. Only a whore would reach into a man’s breeches like that and take his cock into her hands.

The stranger must be forcing her to do it. He must have threatened her with a dreadful punishment if she did not do exactly as he asked her to do, and pretend that she was enjoying it. Otherwise she would never have bent her head and licked along the side of his shaft and then taken him into her mouth.

Despite his recent pleasure, he was swel ing again.

Fumbling with his breeches, he took out his own cock, watching it grow with satisfaction. Though it was not as long as the stranger’s, stil it was thick and strong enough. Bess would find nothing wrong with him when he final y took her to his bed.

And then, when she belonged to him and had no thought of leaving him, he would make her take him into his mouth too, and suck on him as she was sucking on the stranger. He would punish her for acting the whore with stranger. He would punish her for acting the whore with another man by forcing her to do the same with him. He would degrade her and punish her out of love, to teach her her place.

Before he had had enough of these imaginings, the stranger sank to the ground, taking Bess with him.

He watched in fascinated horror, unable to move, as Bess got to her hands and knees on the ground, her ass up in the air in a lewd invitation.

The stranger flipped her skirts above her waist, giving Tim a glimpse, the merest glimpse, of round white buttocks and the thatch of hair that lay between her legs, and then he moved between her thighs, blocking the view.

Al Tim could see now was the stranger’s cock as it thrust in and out of Bess’ cunt. He was fucking her from behind like dogs fucked each other, using and abusing her body, degrading her. He was not loving her gently and reverently as a woman like Bess deserved to be loved, but fucking her hard and fast and making her cry out and buck her hips wildly, like they were both animals.

Though he was sickened at the sight of the stranger whoring his Bess, he was fascinated at the same time. He could not stop himself from taking himself in his hand once again and pumping his cock in time to the stranger’s thrusting. It ought to be him behind Bess, thrusting his cock into her slit. It ought to be his hands on her breasts, on her bel y, cupping her mound. It ought to be him biting her shoulder so hard that she screamed. It ought to be him.

And, for a moment, it was him, and the pleasure went to him with such a rush that his cum exploded a second time. His eyes closed and his seed came pulsing out of him in spurt after spurt until he was drained dry as the pasture in August.

When he came to himself again, it was to the sight of the stranger gripped with the same ecstasy, his hot seed spil ing on to Bess’ white buttocks and dripping down her thighs.

He turned away, his stomach revolting at the sight, and crept silently backward through the trees toward the lane.

The stranger had robbed him of Bess’ innocence, but he would not go unpunished. Somehow, he would find a way to make the man suffer for what he had done.

Though he had not been strong enough to rescue Bess, stil he would avenge her.

Bess sank to the moss-covered ground, her legs no longer able to hold her. Their lovemaking this morning had been explosive, born out of a desperate need to feel each other once again. There had been nothing calm or control ed about it—it had been al raw passion and desire.

Now that it was over, she felt nothing but a satisfied glow and a decided ache between her legs. They had wanted each other and now their wants were met. She, for one, had no regrets.

She rol ed over on to her back and stretched her arms above her head. “I suppose we had better pick some blackberries, and quickly now, if my mother is not to get suspicious.”

“I had rather nibble on you some more.” He reached out and bit her ear gently. “You are sweeter than blackberries.”

“Do you want my mother to turn you over to King George’s men?” she asked tartly. “She would do it, you know, if she knew what we had been doing.”

The threat was enough to make him silent.

She got to her feet and re-buttoned her bodice. “Come, you had better pick some blackberries with me.”

“On one condition.”

She raised her eyebrows at him. “Wel ?”

“You wil come to my bed tonight. As soon as night fal s.”

She scuffed the toe of her boot in the fal en leaves, her promise to her mother weighing on her mind. “I cannot come too early. I wil have to wait until my parents are abed.” She would take care at least that her mother did not find her out. It would only worry her, and to no avail.

Satisfied with her promise, he got to his feet and buttoned his breeches. “As soon as they retire for the night then, and not a moment later.”

“I wil be there, I promise.”

Hand in hand, they wandered further down the lane, Bess, at least, tossing blackberries furiously into the pail.

Though Jack picked plenty, he spent more time coaxing Bess into trying a particularly plump and juicy one than in fil ing the pail. By the time the pail was heavy enough to satisfy her mother, Bess’ mouth was stained purple with the ripe fruit, and both of them had purple fingers.

The house had been quiet for ten minutes or more before Jack, lying naked on his bed, heard the faint creaking of his door as it slowly opened.

He let out the breath he’d been holding. She’d come, then.

Back in the trees, he’d not been so sure of her.

He’d given her pleasure, had felt her pussy convulse around his cock as he held himself deep inside her, holding on to his control by the sheer force of his wil .

Only when she had shuddered in the final throes of her release had he pul ed out of her and let his seed erupt on to her ass. Though he was thoroughly satisfied, his orgasm had made him feel uncomfortably incomplete.

She wanted him to fuck her, but that was al she needed him for. She was holding out on him, keeping the essential part of her to herself.

Her heart would not break when he left to go a-plundering. The thought ought to make him glad, but instead it bothered him that her heart was so impervious.

Stil , she had come to him tonight. For now, that was al that mattered.

“Jack, are you awake?” Her whisper cut through the darkness.

“Awake and ready.” It was true. His cock, semi-stiff ever since he had retired to his room to wait for her, had hardened the instant she had opened the door.

The bed creaked as she sat on it and the mattress sagged a little beneath her weight. She reached out for him, stifling a burst of laughter as she encountered hard, warm, male flesh. “You are more than a man. You must be a demon come to life, you are so insatiable.”

He pul ed her on top of him and slid his hands under her skirts to cup her buttocks. “Are you making advances toward me, you shameless hussy?”

She unbuttoned her bodice and pushed her shift down over her shoulders until her top half was bare. “Of course I am.”

“Do you want to be fucked again? Hard and fast like in the trees today, or slow and gentle?”

She wriggled her mound on his hardness and gave an appreciative sigh. “No more advances. I am too sore already. If you take me again, I wil not be able to walk come the morning.”

Even if he couldn’t fuck her, he could stil make it worth her while to come to him. “Show me where it hurts so I can kiss you better.”

“It hurts between my legs,” she confessed.

He lay her down on the bed and spread her legs apart.

“Does it hurt here?” he asked, kissing the inside of her knees.

“Not there. Higher up.”

He knelt between her legs and kissed the inside of her thighs. “Does it hurt here?”

“Not there. Higher up stil .”

“It must be here that it hurts then,” he said, as he bent his head to her pussy, parting her lips with one hand and licking her gently. She tasted of al woman, musky and sexy and intoxicating al at the same time. “Tel me that it hurts here. Tel me that my kisses make it better.”

She gave a moan of appreciation at his ministrations.

“Ah, yes. That feels much better already.”

His tongue had found her clit and was lapping at it, swirling it around, tasting her intimately.

Her breathing quickened and she began to buck her hips against his mouth. “Shhh, lie stil ,” he instructed her.

“Be a good girl and do not move.”

She gave a wriggle of protest.

Just the opening he had been waiting for. “I told you not to move,” he said sternly. “You disobeyed me. You are a bad girl and must be punished.”

“Punished?” she squeaked, instantly becoming as rigid as a statue.

“Yes, punished.” He took the strips of silk that he had prepared earlier and tied them around her wrists and then looped them over the bedposts. “But first I must tie you up, so you do not think to escape me.”