Текст книги "The Persuasion of Molly O'Flaherty"

Автор книги: Sierra Simone

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Текущая страница: 9 (всего у книги 10 страниц)

“Good,” Silas said in a husky voice. “Let’s get started.”

God, looking at him like this—tied up, being serviced, his face full of frustrated lust and suppressed pleasure as he tried to fight off how good Viola was making him feel—I was wet just watching him. Did he really think he could top me from the bottom? Without being able to touch me? When I loved this so much, having him tied up and completely at my disposal to play with as I pleased?

And how much did he really think he had changed? I knew Silas, and Silas had never been the type to turn down sex when it was offered, and even though I now believed he really did love me, I also believed that he was a man through and through, and would be easy enough to tame. Like a cat with cream or a dog with a bone from the kitchen, I would tame him with Viola’s pussy.

“Look at this, Silas,” I purred, nudging Viola’s legs farther apart so that he could see how wet she was, just from playing with his cock. I’d chosen Viola mostly because she looked like me, but also because, despite her somewhat prudish upbringing in an austere town up North, she was a purely sexual creature, the kind whose arousal was uncomplicated and universal. She didn’t need to be in control and she didn’t need to have control taken from her, she didn’t need to be with a man or a woman—all she needed was sex, in any configuration. And Silas was a hell of a configuration; I couldn’t blame her for responding to his long, muscled form, stretched into tense and powerful lines.

Silas glanced over to Viola—victory, he listened to me!—and then glanced away, looking bored. Shit.

“I want to see yours,” he said. I don’t know how he did it, managing to sound growling and commanding and yet so cultivated at the same time, but however he did it, it sent chills down my spine, and I found myself obeying despite my earlier intention not to, climbing up on the bed and rising up on my knees. It will tease him more if you show him, I rationalized. It would rile him up, crack that veneer, and then I would win.

It’s just a game, I thought, a silly dare. It’s meaningless.

But it wasn’t meaningless, not really. It didn’t matter that the real world stakes might not apply when the sun came up, what mattered were the stakes now. Here, in this room, it was real. It did have meaning, and Silas was right—I had tied him up because I’d known that if I came to him and confessed my own feelings, told him the impact his confession had on me, then he would have laid such a devastatingly complete claim to me that nothing else would have mattered. I would have walked out of this room and surrendered my company happily, I would have said yes to Silas’s proposal, I would have given up everything because I would belong to Silas and not to myself.

I wasn’t ready for that.

Maybe I’d never be ready.

Except I wanted to be, deep down. Wasn’t that why I’d agreed to his silly dare? Because part of me wanted him to rise up and claim me, to take care of me—not with money or a house or a legitimate marriage even, but take care of me, my inner soul, my inner Mary Margaret O’Flaherty. I wanted there to be one place in my life where I didn’t have to be strong, one place where I was able to rest.

I spread my legs for Silas.

“You’re wet,” he rasped. I sensed his desire—his weakness—and decided to exploit it, grabbing Viola by the hips. Silas’s cock slid from her mouth with a wet pop, and she rose up, her face flushed and her lips swollen and pink from sucking Silas. I kissed those lips, softer and silkier than a man’s, and I reached up to stroke her breasts.

Silas did not bother to hide his interest.

Viola and I were on the same side of the bed, and it was easy for me to bend my head down and suckle her breasts. I fluttered my tongue against her nipple, and she arched her back, giving a little cry.

“So you can touch her?” Silas asked. “She can touch you?”

I straightened and pulled Viola in for a close embrace, pressing our bare stomachs together, squeezing our breasts against one another’s. Silas’s expression didn’t change, but out of the corner of my eye, I saw his rigid cock give a surge. He liked seeing Viola and me together. I noted that.

“The contract only says I can’t be touched by a man,” I clarified. It was a ridiculous oversight; as if sex between two women somehow carried less emotional or physical weight than sex between a man and a woman. But I supposed those were the narrow-minded men of England for you, even in our modern, industrial times. “I don’t think Hugh’s solicitors know our habits very well.”

Castor laughed from his chair. When I looked over to smile at him, I saw that he was rubbing himself through his trousers, and that sent a bolt of lust through me. Castor was a very experienced and particular man about his tastes—if something aroused him, it had to be quite arousing indeed, and though he wasn’t my lover now and would never be again, it still made my core clench thinking that I could affect him like that.

Silas is ridiculous. Obviously, I was born to be in control, and obviously, I was born to love it.

“Viola,” Silas said. “I want you to kiss your way down to Molly’s breasts right now. Yes, there you go…take one in your hand and then kiss over to her nipple, but don’t take it in your mouth.”

I sighed at Viola’s touch as she obeyed without hesitation, her lips soft and light around my areola.

“Now,” Silas said, “put your mouth over her nipple and suck it onto your tongue.”

She did, and I nearly moaned out loud from the sensation. I hadn’t had someone lavishing attention on my breasts in so very, very long, and Viola seemed keen to make up for all the time I’d lost, her hands braced on my waist as she leaned over and worked me with an eagerness that made Silas clench his jaw.

“That’s right,” he said. “Now flick your tongue across the tip. Good. Oh, very good—do you feel her waist squirming between your hands? That means you’re doing a very good job, Viola. A very good job.”

Suddenly, I felt a little jealous. I wanted his praise, I wanted to please him, I wanted to be doing a good job, because that meant I was a good girl. His good girl.

His Molly.

I reached down and found Viola’s cunt with my fingers and began stroking the tight little bud there, looking over at Silas just in time to see his eyes darken and his hands pull unconsciously at his ties.

But fuck, somehow I’d slid out of control, letting him dictate the scene, letting my need to please him override my need to dominate his pleasure. No—it was time for me to take the reins back.

I moved my fingers lower and found Viola even wetter than before. Good.

“I want you to straddle him,” I commanded. “And then rub yourself against his dick.”

Silas squirmed, either in annoyance or anticipation, straining again at his ties, but the moment Viola’s wet pussy started grinding against him, a shudder wracked through his body. I bent down, so my lips were at his ear. “It’s going to feel so good when she lets you inside, Silas. It’s going to be so tight. So warm. I’m going to make her use you, did you know that? She’s going to use that big cock to come and not care how it feels for you, and you are going to feel every pulse and squeeze of it.”

“I would rather have it be yours,” Silas said, turning his head so that our noses touched. His eyes burned into mine. “I would rather be feeling every pulse and squeeze of my Molly.”

Behind me, Viola was rubbing herself eagerly on Silas, the dark head of his cock disappearing and reappearing as she slid herself against it. Her hands were braced on his stomach, her fingernails digging into the firm flesh there. Her head was thrown back, eyes closed, and I knew she would come soon.

Good.

“Viola,” I said, rising up to my knees next to her. She stopped moving and looked at me expectantly, her nipples hard and her breathing fast. “Lift up a little. Don’t move unless I tell you.”

She did, and the moment I reached under her to take Silas’s cock in my hand, he groaned, bucking up against his ties and shoving himself deeper into my fist.

I froze. I had only meant to guide him inside of Viola, but his desperate noises with my hand on him, the way his thick length slid through my fist…

Castor cleared his throat, a warning to me that I was getting close to the bounds of the legally forbidden, and I quickly notched the head of Silas’s cock against Viola’s hole and let go. Now it was Silas that was frozen, sweat starting to gleam on his chest, refusing to move himself upward into Viola’s pussy.

That was fine. That was more than fine, actually, because the fact that he wasn’t trying to wrest control of the scene away from me meant that he was struggling to keep his wits about him. The bed was wide enough for me to lower myself to my belly and lay my head on Silas’s muscled stomach and enjoy the suspended tableau.

Now it was Viola I talked to instead of Silas. “I can see him stretching you,” I told her. “Already stretching you and he will stretch you even more when you take him all the way inside.” I traced the line where their flesh met with my finger, loving the way I could feel Silas tremble under me. “I can see every vein on Silas. He’s so hard right now, so very hard, and all because of you and me. Let’s make him feel better, shall we?”

Viola nodded as I knelt once more and took her hips in my hands. And then a small whimper issued from somewhere in her throat as I guided her down, all the way down, impaling her fully on Silas’s dick. Silas hissed, every muscle in his thighs and calves looking like carved marble as he kept his body completely still. But he didn’t close his eyes, he didn’t look away; our stares were locked as I began moving Viola’s hips back and forth over him.

“That’s it,” I whispered to her. “You’re doing great.”

She whimpered again as I moved her hips faster, forced her to grind harder against him.

“Isn’t she doing such a good job, Silas? Isn’t her pussy so soft? So wet?”

His jaw tightened.

“It’s so fun to move her on you,” I continued. “Like she’s a plaything that I’m using to fuck you. Like she’s a toy, and we’re both using her.”

“Jesus, Molly,” Silas groaned, and finally his eyes squeezed shut, as if he couldn’t handle both the sight of me fucking him with Viola’s body and my words.

I bit my lip to hold back my smile. I was winning. Viola would orgasm, and then so would Silas, and I would have won. And more importantly, I would have gotten what I came here for tonight—the chance to give Silas something back. To give him something to hold on to as our paths irrevocably veered off in different directions.

“Use him to come,” I commanded Viola. “Ride him as hard as you need.”

I let go of her hips as she lost herself on him, squirming and moving up and down, and I dropped my hands down to play with myself, not shocked to find that I was very wet, not shocked to find that my clit was swollen and needy. It wouldn’t take long for me to come. And seeing Silas like this…perhaps it was a defect in my personality that I found this sight so delicious, despite what had happened with Mercy. Perhaps I should be jealous that even now he was starting to lose himself in the tight, frantic clench of Viola’s cunt, starting to fuck her from the bottom. But the jabbing motion of that thick cock and his narrow hips only served to turn me on more, the sight of him sheathing himself over and over again in Viola just making me greedier for my own climax.

I was too far gone in the scene to care, but I knew I would feel the same way once I was out of it too—that somehow, for Silas and me, this was okay. This wasn’t him with Mercy, chasing his own selfish fears. This was he and I together, with someone else, and there was nothing but pleasure and happiness here. Even Castor was openly stroking himself now, his eyes hungry on the gasping woman astride Silas.

“Tell me what he feels like,” I told Viola, and my voice came out not as authoritative, but rather filled with longing and thirst, and Silas seemed to notice, his eyes opening again and dropping to where my fingers were buried in my own cunt.

“He feels…” Viola took in a deep breath as she continued to work him with frenzied movements of her hips. “He’s so big. And deep. And oh…oh God.” The climax took her fast and hard, and she wailed, curling over Silas’s chest, her legs instinctively trying to close together, despite still being astride Silas’s hips.

The three of us watched her as she slowly came down, slumped against Silas, every curve and rise of her body marked with satiety and contentment. The problem being that the rest of us were nowhere near satisfied and content; Silas looked like a man on a medieval torture rack, every limb and muscle completely tense as Viola still spasmed around his cock, Castor still languidly stroked himself, and I was less rubbing myself now than fucking my own hand.

“Sit up,” I demanded to Viola, and she did, slowly, her lids heavy and her face flushed. Once she sat up straight, I moved and swung my leg over Silas, so that I straddled his torso in front of Viola, and so even though it was Viola’s pussy still wrapped around his length, it was me that he saw when he looked up.

“Oh my God,” he groaned, once he realized what I was doing.

“Now,” I said over my shoulder to Viola, “I want you to hold still and let him fuck you. And then I want you to whisper every word that goes through your mind when he does.”

And so, with Viola’s chest pressed against my back and her arms wrapped tightly around my waist, I began to work my clit as Silas slowly fucked her with long, undulating motions.

Silas’s eyes met mine, blue on blue, and I watched every flicker of sensation as it passed across that square-jawed, patrician-bred face of his.

“Ah,” Viola breathed into my ear. “He’s so big. I feel…stretched. Filled.”

Filled. I licked my lips—that word and Silas’s mouth opening to whisper my name and his hard stomach bunching and flexing underneath me…all of it sending me closer to the edge.

“I—he’s hitting that spot right now.” Her voice sounded pained, brittle with pleasure. “The spot on the front. Oh God.”

I knew exactly what spot she meant; Silas was one of the only men I’d been with—aside from Castor and Julian—who’d known how to find that spot.

Every.

Single.

Time.

My core clamped in memory, and I slid my fingers down from my clit to my entrance, reaching up inside to curl my fingers to where I wanted Silas’s cock.

And then he started talking, hoarse and demanding. “I can feel how wet you are, Mary Margaret. You’re wet all over my stomach, and I can feel how slippery your fingers are from fucking your own pussy.” Silas stabbed his hips up and Viola cried out.

“So deep,” she gasped into my ear. “I can feel him everywhere…my hips feel so tight and my thighs are tight too and it’s so hard to breathe…shit, I’m going to come again.”

“Not yet,” Silas growled. “Viola, I want you to take those hands that you have so prettily wrapped around my Molly’s waist, and I want you to move them down to Molly’s cunt. Yes, just like that. And now take one and push it inside of her, and then use the other to work her clit. Molly, I want you to take your fingers and press them against my mouth so I can taste you.”

He’s trying to take over again, I realized, but at that moment, his tongue danced across the already-wet pads of my fingertips and Viola found the right pressure and pace, and I didn’t care.

“Viola,” Silas said, his breath tickling against my fingers, “you can’t come until Molly comes. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” she breathed against my shoulder, resting her forehead there as Silas began fucking her from below. Her fingers were magic, but even more magic was Silas underneath us, all muscles and man and need, covered with sweat, his face angry and worshipful all at once as he sucked on my fingers and drove his cock into Viola.

I pulled my fingers back to knead my breast, and he started saying words, filthy words that were so wrong and so raw, words that stroked the inside of me like I wanted his cock to, do you like another girl in your pussy? and she feels so good, Molly, you picked a good one and sit on my face, God, I’d kill someone to have you on my face right now.

I knew what Viola meant about everything being tight—my neck and back and stomach and even my feet felt ready to snap, ready to shatter like so much glass, and it felt like there was nothing but those fingers on my cunt and Silas’s beautiful eyes and filthy mouth.

“I’m going to fuck her pussy like it’s yours,” he said, to me, only to me, as if we were the only people really here. “I’m going to make her take my cock, and you’re going to feel every minute of it and know that each and every stroke is for you. And you are going to look me in the eyes while you come and it will be my name you scream. Understood?”

“Y-yes,” I shivered out; Viola’s were fingers so good and so strong and so fast. “Yes.”

“Please,” Viola begged in my ear. “Please hurry. I can’t wait much longer—”

Her voice broke off as Silas thrust upward at double the pace, a delighted laugh bursting from him as he watched both Viola and I tumble over the cliff and plunge to the rocks below.

She went first, and it was her hitched gasp, her fingers digging into me as her body was taken, that triggered my own release. I went hot, then cold, feverish and fervent and almost hallucinatory as my world shrank down to his grin and his eyes blazing blue with victory and our little pleasure doll behind me, barely holding on for dear life as she convulsed through her second orgasm of the night.

“Silas,” I breathed, the word catching in my throat.

The waves started deep in my center, but quickly exploded outward, my toes curling as every muscle rippled with release and a deep and primal satisfaction, and I could barely breathe, the entirety of the erotic scene driving my orgasm on and on and on until I was slumped back against Viola, my head leaning back to rest on her shoulder.

“Jesus Christ,” Silas said, a little desperately, as both of us girls gradually finished climaxing on top of him. “Jesus fucking Christ.”

Viola gave a tired little laugh from behind me.

Silas’s voice was rough and brooked no argument when he said, “Untie me right the fuck now.”

I should have said no. This was definitely me losing our little bet, but I couldn’t deny it any longer. Silas was what I wanted. Silas dominating me was what I wanted. And when he murmured, “That’s my good Molly,” when I slid off the bed and went to the bottom posts to unknot his feet, I felt a flush of pleasure that I would have given anything to feel all the time. A flush that told me that I was his, that I was taken care of, that when I was with him, I could relax and feel safe.

As I worked on the knot by Silas’s ankle, Castor came up to me. “Are you finished with Viola?” he asked quietly.

I glanced up to Silas. The look on his face told me that whatever was going to happen next was going to happen between him and me alone. “Yes,” I replied.

“Then I’m taking her, if she agrees. Can I trust you two to behave yourselves? I’d rather not commit perjury if I can help it, but…” He trailed off, his face hard as he looked at Viola’s naked form, which was currently curled into a ball of pale limbs and red hair. His erection bulged under the trousers that he hadn’t bother to button when he’d pulled them back up.

“I understand, believe me.”

He nodded curtly and walked over to Viola, where he gently swept the hair from her face. “Would you like to go to bed with me?” he asked.

She made a purring noise of assent, and he gathered her into his arms, and then they were gone. I turned my attention back to Silas; with one leg freed, I moved to the other, admiring the long, strong bands of muscle that made up his calves and thighs and stomach and chest.

His erection had not abated—if anything, it had grown harder, the head a dark purple, and the shaft so rigid that it didn’t lay flat against his stomach; instead it pulsed with every beat of his heart, the pre-cum beading at the tip betrayed exactly how aroused he was.

He didn’t say anything as I moved up to his right hand, and the lack of chatter from him made me nervous. Silas was a talker, a charmer, the kind of person you could count on to fill any awkward gaps in conversation with easy, polite chatter and an infectious laugh. But not right now. Right now, he watched me in silence, a silence that wasn’t stern or solemn necessarily, but a silence that was practically electrified with power.

Castor and I had tied the knots well, but we hadn’t made them very tight since we hadn’t wanted to wake Silas as we worked. But Silas’s thrashing and straining had yanked the silk ties fast, especially around his wrists. It took me a few minutes to pull apart the first one, and even longer for the second, and still he didn’t speak, his eyes pinned on me the entire time.

But the moment I finally pulled the last knot loose, he was on me, his hands on my throat and waist, and then I was on my back, his knees on either side of my shoulders, his large hand gripping my jaw and forcing my head to tilt back.

“I won’t violate your fucking contract,” he said, and I didn’t need to see to know that his other hand fisted his dick. “But you’re going to take this, every drop of it, for making me fuck someone else. For teasing me. For walking away on the ballroom floor tonight.”

Earlier, I would have fought him. I would have teased him or provoked him, but not now. I wanted to be under him, subsumed by him, humiliated by him. Everything about it felt so right and I would never feel this way again and oh my God…I would never feel this way again. How could I live like that? Without Silas?

I’d asked myself that question so many times in the last week, but now, with him clutching my jaw, ready to ejaculate all over me, I realized how terrible it all was. I belonged here, underneath him, covered in him, and I would be lost without this.

He relaxed his grip just enough so that I could see the glorious sight of him stroking his cock. “My Molly,” he breathed as he tightened his fist. “My Mary Margaret.”

“Say it again,” I begged.

It became a prayer on his lips, a chant of power and ownership. “My Molly. My Molly. My M—fuck!”

His stomach muscles seized and jerked, tightening into deliciously tight lines, and his thighs clenched, and then he finally gave it all up to me, ropes of semen on my face and neck and hair, hot pulses of cum as he growled my name over and over, Molly Molly, my Molly, fucking his fist through it all, as if to milk himself for every drop. And the whole time, he’d kept those strong fingers wrapped around my jaw, holding me still as he marked me. As he claimed me in the basest way possible.

He didn’t let go of my jaw right away, and neither did the lust fade from his eyes. Instead, he examined every inch of my face with a possessive satisfaction, as if seeing me covered in his cum answered some deep, existential question for him.

I let my tongue move slowly, licking him off my lips as he watched.

He grunted and released my face. “You’re mine now.”

My eyelids burned at this. Why had I been so stupidly blind and proud last year? Yes, he’d fucked up, but now I’d broken our future as well. If instead of punching him and letting him leave, I had instead punched him and then forced him to make it up to me…we could be married now. We could have a forever together.

“I’m yours,” I whispered.

“And I won,” he declared with no small amount of satisfaction. Despite letting go of my face, he kept me pinned to the bed, his knees still astride my shoulders. And I loved it. He had won, and I welcomed the reminder, the reminder that I belonged to him. I would pretend that right now was for forever, that I had thousands of nights of him claiming me to look forward to.

I would pretend that this wasn’t both the first and last time that he would get to own me.

“You did win,” I said, my voice choked with the knowledge that this was almost at an end. No, Molly. Pretend, pretend, pretend, just for now. Just for tonight.

He trailed a long finger down my neck, running it through his essence, his half-hard cock stiffening as he reviewed the evidence of my submission. And then, with a reluctant growl, Silas moved off of me and went over to the table at the edge of the room. He returned with a damp towel and cleaned my face and neck and hair, saying nothing, although the low rumbles of satisfaction vibrating through his chest told me everything I needed to know.

After he finished, he tossed the towel to the side and reclined against the pillows at the top of the bed, crushing me to his chest as he did. I rarely felt this slender, this small, this female…but gathered in Silas’s arms and pressed against his firm chest, I decided that I could get used to it.

“So where are we going?” he asked.

“Pardon?” I murmured.

“I won, remember? And we’re going to run away together. Where shall we go? France? Belgium? I hear New York City is quite exciting.”

Pretend, pretend. Pretend that it’s not just more London and more misery and more Hugh awaiting you in the morning.

I shook my head. “Ireland. We’re going to Ireland.”

“Of course. To Ennis, I suppose?”

I closed my eyes, loving the feeling of his heart beating deep within his chest, a heart that I knew was mine for the taking.

Pretend.

“For a while,” I answered him, eyes still closed, allowing the scene to play out in my mind. “And then we’d go to a house on the coast.”

“Sounds wet,” Silas spoke into my hair, playfulness creeping back into his tone. “But I like it when things are…wet.”

“You are so much less clever than you think you are.”

“Then it’s a good thing I have you around to remind me. So what would our lives be like on this Irish coast? Would you try to make a fisherman out of me?”

I smiled at the image of my urbane, sophisticated Silas trying to fish. “No, we’d simply live our lives. Take walks, read books, make love.”

“Get married,” he added.

“In my childhood church,” I said. “You’ll have to become Catholic.”

“A papist? Only for you. I imagine all of our children would be little papist heathens as well?” His hands slid down to lace together over my stomach.

Pretend pretend. “Yes,” I said, and I was glad he couldn’t see my face and how close I was to crying. “All of our blue-eyed children.”

He slid deeper into the pillows, taking me with him, until we were snuggled so perfectly that I wanted to die here so that I would never have to leave. “I love you, Mary Margaret,” he said in a sleepy voice.

“I love you too,” I managed, hoping that he wouldn’t feel the way my ribs threatened to jerk and twitch with suppressed sobs.

“And tomorrow,” he said, words thick with doziness. “Tomorrow we sail for Ireland.”

“Yes.” I whispered the lie into his skin. “Tomorrow.”