Page 3 of The Mistress (Dirty Little Harlots #2)

My other hand moved back to my breast, my fingers pinching and pulling at my nipple. The sharp pain mixed with the pleasure from my cunny, creating a heady sensation that had me writhing on my knees. I could feel the wetness dripping from me, my body begging for more.

I looked up at him, my eyes meeting his dark gaze. His jaw was clenched, his nostrils flared, something in his eyes. And I knew: the Duke of Ironhenge was enjoying this show, enjoying watching me touch myself.

I was on display. For him .

My body was on fire, my skin flushed and my breath coming in ragged gasps. I could feel my climax building, my body coiling tighter and tighter as I stroked and sucked. I moaned and whimpered, the sounds vibrating around his cock, each stroke bringing us both closer.

My crisis hit me suddenly, my body convulsing as waves of pleasure crashed over me. I cried out, my mouth falling away from his cock, leaving him to stroke himself as he watched me with hooded eyes, his gaze unreadable.

That, more than anything, allowed me to open, to let him see my climax, let him see me come around my fingers. My thighs quivered as I bit my lower lip, thrust out my abused breasts, and let him see .

Soon, though, my fingers slowed, my touch gentle as I stroked myself through the aftershocks. I looked up at him, my eyes glazed with pleasure, and I saw…saw disapproval?

The Duke’s hold on my hair had softened to gentle pets through my ecstasy, by now he twisted his fingers through my curls and pulled my head back.

Still stroking his cock, he leaned over me.

“Did I say you could come?” he growled.

I stared in shock, my body still humming in pleasure.

He yanked my hair, tipping me back farther, and I gasped, tears of surprise coming to my eyes.

“Did I say you could come, slut? Answer me.”

His voice was hard with control again, and I couldn’t not answer. “N-no, Your Grace.”

“From now on, you can come when I tell you to, and only then.”

Such a thing…it was impossible, surely? I could barely breathe for his closeness, his lips only inches from mine. What would I do if he leaned closer, if he kissed me the way Reggie liked to be kissed—softly, gently—before we made love?

I should have guessed that the Duke of Ironhenge wouldn’t expect such a thing.

“Do you understand?” he rumbled.

“Yes, Your Grace,” I whispered, my body’s thrumming pleasure fading to confusion.

“Good.”

He turned, but he didn’t release me. Still holding my hair, he strode toward the settee, and I gasped, stumbling after him on my hands and knees, the pain from the hair making my eyes water.

I thought he was done with me, I’d disappointed him, I’d failed Reggie…but the Duke tossed me toward the low table that sat in front of the settee.

“Get up,” he commanded, his voice as dark as his gaze. “On your back.”

I hurried to obey, scrambling to sit on the table, making fleeting eye contact with Reggie, who sat, ramrod straight, on the settee.

When I was seated, I tipped my head back, thinking the Duke might want me to continue sucking him, but he was shrugging out of his jacket. “Here,” he barked at Reggie. “Don’t wrinkle this.”

I couldn’t tear my gaze away to see how dear Reggie jumped to do the man’s bidding. I couldn’t afford to anger the Duke any further, so I kept my gaze locked on him.

Now he was stepping closer…kneeling…he knelt by the table, and I followed him with wary gaze as he pushed his trousers and smalls down and placed a hand on each of my knees.

“ These don’t close for me.”

“Yes, Your Grace,” I whispered, spreading my legs so he could settle between them.

“This position. What is it called?”

I didn’t think of hesitating. “ The Falconer and the Oyster ,” I whispered. The woman rests with her back against a surface while her lover stands between her legs. Page…sixty-three, I believe.

The Duke grunted and reached for my wrist, pulling my hand toward his mouth. Holding my gaze, he slid my fingers between his lips, his tongue curling around the knuckles.

And I gasped as I realized he was tasting me . My cunny, my spend. The results of my pleasure.

He made a humming noise—approval? God, I hoped it was approval—as he considered me. Then he pulled my fingers free with an audible popping sound.

“Acceptable.”

Acceptable? Acceptable for what?

He planted his palm between my breasts and pushed, guiding me to lie back, and I went, full of uncertainty. I was too tall for the table—my head would dangle off if I didn’t hold myself upright. The Duke settled between my thighs, his cock resting against my curls, and I knew what he meant now.

Acceptable .

My cunny was good enough to welcome his cock.

Just realizing that, realizing what was about to happen, with me spread out before him like a feast, made liquid heat pool in my core again. He was harsh and demanding, unlike anyone I’d known before…

And I loved it.

I loved the way it made me feel, knowing I had no choice but to go along with his depravity, if I wanted to keep my home. And I needed him to know that.

I squirmed against him, spreading my warm wetness across his ballocks, my eyes squeezed shut in concentration, my hands fluttering uselessly against my stomach. I was uncertain if I should touch myself again, but I wanted him to know I was ready.

It worked. “Good girl,” he chuckled, his knuckles brushing against my clitoris as he stroked himself. “You want this? You’re ready to take your master’s cock like a good girl?”

“Yes, Your Grace,” I whimpered.

Perhaps I should have kept my eyes open, because when he thrust inside me suddenly, I sucked in a surprised breath.

Oh God, the Duke of Ironhenge was huge . I might have whimpered, and I appreciated that he didn’t immediately begin to thrust, instead allowing my body to adjust to his size. My eyes fluttered open and I allowed my head to fall backward…until I was gazing, upside-down, at Reggie.

Immediately, I winced.

Was I allowed to look at my patron, the man I’d loved for these last three years?

But Ironhenge said nothing, and I was pointed directly at where Reggie sat on, his hands gripping his knees, his warm brown eyes wide with… interest .

Did Reggie like seeing me like this? My cunny absolutely stuffed with another man’s cock?

I wondered if I could make this a pleasurable experience for him as well.

Between my legs, the Duke began to move. His fingers dug into my thighs, his strokes slow and long, dragging his cock from me and thrusting it gently in again. I licked my lips, holding Reggie’s stare, willing him to respond in some way.

And my hands still fluttered over my stomach uncertainly. Until I heard the Duke’s command: “Touch yourself.”

Oh, thank God! My hands clutched at my breasts, fingers curling harshly into the skin as I tugged and squeezed. Was that a groan from Reggie? His gaze slid along my body to where I pinched my own nipples, and he shifted in discomfort.

The Duke chuckled harshly, the sound making me redouble my efforts.

Reggie’s gaze dipped farther, until I knew he was watching my cunny, watching another man slide into it. I was wet and willing and aroused for the Duke of Ironhenge and his dominating perversions…and Reggie knew it.

“Good girl,” the Duke hummed. “You like making your master jealous, don’t you?”

I didn’t know how to answer, but I shouldn’t have hesitated. Because in the next heartbeat, he’d reached down and caught my clitoris between his knuckles, squeezing. With a gasp at the pleasure that bordered on pain, my head popped up until I could stare down my body at him.

“I said, don’t you ?” he growled, squeezing again, still thrusting slowly into me.

“Y-yes, Your Grace.”

He released me, soothing the sensitive bud with a brush of his callused thumb which made me jerk against him, then moan and press my core toward him, causing his cruel lips to curl into a mocking grin.

“My little slut likes that, doesn’t she?”

He did it again, and this time I didn’t bother hiding my whimper and the way I writhed against him, loving the way he chuckled again.

Giving in to his control, I dropped my head backward again until I could see Reggie. “Yes, Your Grace,” I whispered, holding Reggie’s gaze. He’d slumped back against the settee, his hands moving from his knees to his cock, which bulged against the trousers he’d worn to his club.

His eyes were hazy with desire, locked on the place where the Duke fucked me.

The other man, the man sliding his cock almost reverently in and out of my core, rumbled, “Look at you, slut, taking another man’s cock in your wet cunny. Your master is watching you whore your sweet little cunny out, and he likes it. Don’t you, Markland?”

Reggie’s gaze slammed upward, and I imagined him meeting the Duke’s…only to creep back down again, to where we were joined. And through it all, Reggie stroked himself through his trousers.

The Duke chuckled again. “Why don’t you join us, Markland? I’m sure this slut can take both of us.”

I barely had time to gasp before Reggie had thrown himself to his knees beside me, fumbling with his trouser buttons.

It was as if I were floating out of my body, watching as he pulled out his cock and pushed it toward my mouth.

Watching as I tipped my head backward, taking it down my throat as deep as I could, speared on both ends by these two men.

Reggie bent forward, capturing my tits, squeezing and pulling on them as he thrust into my mouth. His cock was so hard, ready to explode; I could feel it in the way his tight ballocks slapped against my forehead, a sensation I’d never experienced before.

With him pawing at my breasts like a starving man, my hands slid down my stomach, but hesitated before I reached my curls.

“Good,” crooned Ironhenge, sliding deep into me. “Touch yourself, you whore. Touch yourself for me.”