Page 9 of The Mistress
“See?” Ironhenge huffed what might have been a chuckle. “She knows her worth. Knows she’s a stupid whore who needs all her holes to keep her masters satisfied.”
Yes.
Oh God,yes. I opened my mouth wider, moaning around Reggie’s cock, pressing the heel of my palm against my pelvis and arching into the men’s touch.
“Jocelyn!” Reggie suddenly cried, his hands spasming around my breasts as he jerked.
With his cock halfway down my throat already, it was easy to swallow as he came, thrusting against my face. I gulped down his seed, praying he would finish soon so I could breathe, with my nose pressed against his ballocks and his cock blocking my airway…I coughed, spewing some of his cum from the corner of my mouth as he pressed closer.
“Oh, God, Jocelyn,” he groaned, collapsing over me.
Ironhenge hadn’t paused in his thrusting. “Let the slut breathe, Markland,” he snapped, and I had another reason to be grateful to him as Reggie slumped to the floor beside me, his shoulder near enough I could rest my head on it, giving my neck the support I needed as I coughed up more of his seed.
He stroked my hair in a sated sort of way as the Duke continued to pound me.
“You think you’re done, whore?” he growled, his hold on my hips tightening to almost pain. “You could take one load, but two?”
“Yes, Your Grace,” I moaned, writhing beneath him, my cunny throbbing in time with his thrusts. “Please, Your Grace. Give me your cum.”
Another dark chuckle. “Good girl. Such a good little slut, taking both of your masters’ loads. I should come in your cunny.”
I moaned again, not sure if I was agreeing or not. I was barely coherent, my pleasure so heightened, my release so close, I squeezed my thighs together, panting in desperation.
“No,” he barked, and my gaze flew to his hard glare. “You don’t come until I give you permission.”
Oh God, how was I supposed to—? I whimpered, my hands freezing, my entire core teetering on the brink of climax.
In that pause, I could feel Reggie’s breath on my cheek, feel his warmth at my back, and knew I’d made him proud.
Then the Duke of Ironhenge dropped his chin, as close to approval as he would give.
“But I know a slut like you needs to come on my cock, don’t you?”
“Please, Your Grace,” I whispered raggedly, my hips gyrating in desperation on his cock, trying to capture the sensation without my fingers. “Please.”
“Please what?” he barked, as still as a statue, his fingers digging harshly against my skin.
Whimpering in need, I swiped my tongue across my lip, catching the last of Reggie’s cum and pulling it into my mouth. I saw Ironhenge’s gaze drop to my lips.
“Please, Your Grace,” I murmured as seductively as I could. “Please let me come on your cock.”
“Yes.” He began to move again, slowly thrusting into me instead of the violent plunges of a moment ago. “I give permission for my little whore to come on my cock.”
How did he know this is what I needed? This movement, those words?
I dropped my head back, rubbing my clitoris frantically, and sent myself spiraling over the edge of oblivion.
With a wail, I came on the Duke of Ironhenge’s cock.
His thrusts slowed until I was the one writhing against him, trying to hold onto the pleasure as long as possible. When I finally opened my eyes, my breathing ragged, it was to see him watching me with that dark, hooded stare.
I hoped he approved.
Dear God, I hope he approved.
“Good girl,” he finally murmured, and I swear, my pleasure spikedagain. How had my body become so attuned to this man—this terrifyingly arousing man?
But in the next moment, the Duke pulled his cock from my cunny, his hand wrapped around the base as he bent forward, reaching for me. Instinctively, I pushed myself upright, and he was able to twist his fingers through my hair.
