it inside her further and was rewarded with another moan as she thrust herself against his hand, forcing it stil higher inside her.
“You want me to fuck you with the whip?” he asked, tugging it gently out again. “You want me to tease your pussy with this nice wooden handle until you come?”
“Please.” It was barely a whisper of sound.
“I like a woman who knows how to beg.” He bent his head to taste her clit as he slowly pushed the handle back inside her. “You deserve a reward.”
Her clit was swol en and distended. Gently, he eased the makeshift dildo in and out of her as he sucked on her clit until he felt her orgasm begin to overtake her. “Come on, sweetheart,” he urged her. “Let yourself go and I wil catch you.”
Her arms strained against her bonds as her back arched off the bed, her face contorted in a breathless grimace. She held her breath for the space of a dozen heartbeats, and then let out a wordless cry. He felt the convulsions of pleasure rip through her body as if it had been his own.
On and on her body shuddered, lost in the grip of pleasure, until she could hold on no longer. As the waves died down, she sank back to the bed, no longer fighting her restraints.
As her orgasm faded, he slipped the whip handle out of her, then reached up and untied the ribbons of silk that held her fast.
Freed from her bonds, she col apsed on to the bed, dragging him on top of her. A contented purr escaped her as they lay entangled together on the bed. “No wonder high-born ladies get a thril out of being kissed by highwaymen,”
she murmured, her voice ful of sleepy mischief. “If their men folk knew exactly where and how you had kissed them, I fear you would not live long.”
He smacked her rump with the flat of his hand. “A highwayman’s stock in trade is more than his brace of pistols, my dear. He also needs a ready tongue.”
Underneath him, he felt her shiver, as if she was remembering exactly how ready his tongue had been on her body. “I suppose I am only the last in a long line of women to fal for the charms of your tongue.”
There had been few enough women before her, and even fewer that meant anything to him beyond a quick romp between the sheets. Admitting to such a truth, however, would do his reputation little good. A man needed a few secrets. “Unlike other lesser folk,” he said loftily, “highwaymen do not kiss and tel .”
Chapter Four
Jack lay awake in the dark, his body sated with Bess’
loving. He could not get enough of her. Even now, rich coaches galore packed with wealthy passengers were rumbling past him on the road to the west, but stil he lingered at the inn for another night, idling away his hard-won coins.
After al , what did it matter if he took a wel -deserved holiday? There would be time enough to get back on the road and add sufficiently to his savings before the ship on which he had booked a passage sailed to the Americas.
Nor would it hurt to let the hue and cry after him die down a little before he became active once again. His fence, miserable old skinflint that he was, had paid handsomely for the last haul of stolen jewelry. Enough to keep your average highwayman in wine, women and song for a month or more.
If the rascal y soldiers thought he had given up the game, or gone to ground somewhere in the stewes of London where they could not find him, so much the better.
His eventual return to his profession would be made that much easier.
He shook his head in the darkness. Excuses—that was al they were. In the depths of his heart, he knew as much.
He didn’t want to ride off and leave Bess alone in the inn, vulnerable to any il -intentioned man who came along and spouted words of love in her ear. She was his woman now —and he did not like to share.
A life outside the law. That was al he could offer her.
Uncertain at the best of times, and at the worst? He shuddered. He had long
“You want me to fuck you with the whip?” he asked, tugging it gently out again. “You want me to tease your pussy with this nice wooden handle until you come?”
“Please.” It was barely a whisper of sound.
“I like a woman who knows how to beg.” He bent his head to taste her clit as he slowly pushed the handle back inside her. “You deserve a reward.”
Her clit was swol en and distended. Gently, he eased the makeshift dildo in and out of her as he sucked on her clit until he felt her orgasm begin to overtake her. “Come on, sweetheart,” he urged her. “Let yourself go and I wil catch you.”
Her arms strained against her bonds as her back arched off the bed, her face contorted in a breathless grimace. She held her breath for the space of a dozen heartbeats, and then let out a wordless cry. He felt the convulsions of pleasure rip through her body as if it had been his own.
On and on her body shuddered, lost in the grip of pleasure, until she could hold on no longer. As the waves died down, she sank back to the bed, no longer fighting her restraints.
As her orgasm faded, he slipped the whip handle out of her, then reached up and untied the ribbons of silk that held her fast.
Freed from her bonds, she col apsed on to the bed, dragging him on top of her. A contented purr escaped her as they lay entangled together on the bed. “No wonder high-born ladies get a thril out of being kissed by highwaymen,”
she murmured, her voice ful of sleepy mischief. “If their men folk knew exactly where and how you had kissed them, I fear you would not live long.”
He smacked her rump with the flat of his hand. “A highwayman’s stock in trade is more than his brace of pistols, my dear. He also needs a ready tongue.”
Underneath him, he felt her shiver, as if she was remembering exactly how ready his tongue had been on her body. “I suppose I am only the last in a long line of women to fal for the charms of your tongue.”
There had been few enough women before her, and even fewer that meant anything to him beyond a quick romp between the sheets. Admitting to such a truth, however, would do his reputation little good. A man needed a few secrets. “Unlike other lesser folk,” he said loftily, “highwaymen do not kiss and tel .”
Chapter Four
Jack lay awake in the dark, his body sated with Bess’
loving. He could not get enough of her. Even now, rich coaches galore packed with wealthy passengers were rumbling past him on the road to the west, but stil he lingered at the inn for another night, idling away his hard-won coins.
After al , what did it matter if he took a wel -deserved holiday? There would be time enough to get back on the road and add sufficiently to his savings before the ship on which he had booked a passage sailed to the Americas.
Nor would it hurt to let the hue and cry after him die down a little before he became active once again. His fence, miserable old skinflint that he was, had paid handsomely for the last haul of stolen jewelry. Enough to keep your average highwayman in wine, women and song for a month or more.
If the rascal y soldiers thought he had given up the game, or gone to ground somewhere in the stewes of London where they could not find him, so much the better.
His eventual return to his profession would be made that much easier.
He shook his head in the darkness. Excuses—that was al they were. In the depths of his heart, he knew as much.
He didn’t want to ride off and leave Bess alone in the inn, vulnerable to any il -intentioned man who came along and spouted words of love in her ear. She was his woman now —and he did not like to share.
A life outside the law. That was al he could offer her.
Uncertain at the best of times, and at the worst? He shuddered. He had long
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