Ridin' Dirty (5 page)
Or try a taste of something very different. . .
I knew every face in the village, and I had never seen his before. His eyes burned with a hidden fire as he crossed the threshold, shutting the door and blocking out the storm behind him. “Who are you?” I asked, my voice shaking as thoughts of robbers and savages filled my head.
The man said nothing, and continued to stare at me with those burning eyes. I found myself drawn into them and the cabin and the whirling snow and thoughts of what my husband would do if he came back and saw me with a strange man all fell away.
Warmth flooded my body. Back then, I didn’t know that the heat that filled my belly and spread between my thighs, dampening the secret place between them was arousal. I had never known any kind of pleasure with my husband, and I had been taught from birth that women’s bodies were places of sin, so I had never explored my own. Under his gaze, my nipples hardened and my breasts grew heavy with wanting. My pussy grew slick and the ache and need to be filled overwhelmed me.
It’s a handy trick when you’re a witch. They’re called glamours, and a well placed glance and whoever that gaze is directed at is ready to spread themselves open for you to suck and fuck inside a minute. You see, that’s how we casters stay young for centuries. Sex with a mortal draws their life essence into us, and with every encounter we steal ten years. Some witches are cruel with this. They like the chase and the fear. They like their victims crying and begging for their lives, so they take their conquests by force. My maker had the same philosophy I do. We’re taking years from their lives so it’s only fair that we give them something back, the most pleasurable experience of their lives seems to be a fair enough trade.
He walked forward until he stood before me, still firmly holding my gaze. “What are you called?” he asked, breaking the thick silence of the room.
“Katherine,” I replied, my earlier fear long gone, and I found myself parting my legs wantonly, wanting nothing more than the feel this stranger’s hands slide under my dress.
“I am Malcolm,” he said, taking my hand and pulling me to my feet. “I will not harm you.” I sank into his embrace like a romance novel heroine. I felt the hard bulge of his cock pressing against my stomach, and for the first time I reacted with eagerness. Everything felt slightly hazy like a dream, and with the boldness that comes from an unreal situation, I let my hand drift lower to touch that hard bulge in the front of his trousers.
He shivered and his hips thrust forward into my hand. I unbuttoned the fly of his pants and his thick organ sprung free. Malcolm’s cock was much larger than my husband’s. My small hand could barely encircle his girth, and I began stroking the length of it, my wrist seeming to instinctively know the motion that would bring him the most pleasure.
I stole a glance at Malcolm’s face and saw the that his eyes were pure black. All the stories of demons and monsters I had heard in my childhood flooded back, but I didn’t care. He hadn’t even touched me yet, and I had already felt more sexual pleasure that I had experienced in my short life.
Malcolm’s hand snaked under my skirt and immediately sought the wetness between my legs. Two seeking fingers slipped inside me, and, finding me dripping and ready, Malcolm pushed up my skirt and pressed me against the door. Naked from the waist down, I should have felt embarrassment and shame, especially with exposing myself in front of someone other than my husband, but the glamor had worked well and I felt nothing but desire. Malcolm took his cock in his hand and guided it inside my tight passage, pinning me against the wall.
I keened loudly at the exquisite pleasure of being speared by that impressive organ. My body was finally awaking to the physical bliss it was built for. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and dug my fingers into the black cloth covering them, trying to pull him closer, wanting to drive his cock deeper into me.
Every pounding thrust shook the door and the coil of heat building in my loins, the start of the first orgasm of my life, shook something loose in me. The thought of continuing to lay back and stare at the ceiling while an ungrateful man used my body and gave me nothing in return was unthinkable.
Malcolm’s right hand supported my leg that wrapped around his hips, but his left hand was busy untying the laces of my bodice. The laces gave way, and he pushed the worn fabric off my shoulders, freeing my breasts to his hungry gaze.
My husband had little interest in anything other than the hole he could stick his cock in, so every encounter with him hand involved nothing more than him raising my nightgown to my waist. No man had ever laid eyes my breasts, and no man had ever wrapped his lips around a tight nipple the way Malcolm did. I felt a sharp pain slice through the haze of pleasure as his teeth cut into my breast, but that was quickly replaced by an ecstasy the like of which I had never experienced as his bite brought me to a screaming orgasm.
The wall and Malcolm’s iron grip were hardly enough to keep me upright as wave upon wave upon wave of euphoria flowed over me, causing every part of me from my toes on up to quiver and shake until I was slumped boneless against the wall, held up by a hand, a door, and a cock.
I felt myself growing dizzy in a way that had nothing to do with my pleasure, something I would later learn was Malcolm siphoning years from my life, and at that point I really did believe he would kill me, something I was surprisingly content with if this was how I would die. “Make me like you,” I whispered.
Malcolm’s thrusts grew faster and more erratic, and then he froze and I felt his cock pulse inside me, flooding me with his cold seed. Malcolm lifted his head from my breast. “I can bind you to this life,” he said, his voice rough with desire. “You will live many lifetimes and see many things, but to survive you will need this.” Still buried inside me, he thrust forward. “Every mortal you take gives you years. You will forsake the comforts of mortality, and your eternal reward.”
I chuckled bitterly. My mortal life had no comforts and promises of heaven did little to placate my misery. I replied simply. “Yes.”
