Authors note: This is a convenient place for me to wrap up this short story, unless someone likes it enough for me to continue : ) Otherwise I just want to thank everyone who has read what I’ve posted so far!
I would have posted this sooner, but my brain took a stubborn vacation on this project : ( All you writers out there know what I mean…
This has been an enjoyable little meander into a new world, hope you have also enjoyed it, and hope the ending is good enough.
“Rise for me dear.” Mr. Nathanson’s face fell into shadow as he looked down at her, beckoning with his hand.
Ethena rose, as gracefully as she could manage, doing her best not to step on her skirts. When she stood before him, his hand caressed the exaggerated swell of her breasts. She had pushed them up so far that they ached, no small feat without Lacie’s aid. His fingers worked the strings of her bodice. The loosening felt heavenly, her tender skin sighing in relief as the tight fabric fell away from it. He looked so very serious, his handsome features fixed in concentration. Her dress fell to her ankles with no more than a small tug, pooling on his shirt, spilling over onto the grass and soil. Ethena shivered, the crisp night air reaching her most intimate skin.
Indeed she was naked from head to toe, prepared for just this. Jack whistled, looking impressed, despite himself. Ethena held her head high, a smug smile briefly creeping onto her lips. You thought you could resist me, how wrong you were.
Mr. Nathanson’s hand slid gently between her thighs, feeling the wetness there, cupping her heat so that she trembled with pleasure. “Like a bitch in heat,” he mumbled with a pleased look.
She couldn’t very well deny it, she was eager, her sex throbbing tortuously at his touch. The swelling of arousal rising quickly.
“How many times have you performed these sort of depraved acts?” Mr. Nathanson’s strong arms encircled her, lifting her clear off of her feet.
Ethena gave a surprised squeak, wrapping her legs around his thick torso, the tip of his manhood brushing and bumping against her. Ethena held onto his neck, trying to squirm down further, to complete their coupling. Mr. Nathanson’s breath was hot on her neck. Enough times to know what goes where. And was he really surprised? Her reputation proceeded her. “Have me, I am at your mercy.”
“You assume that we have any.”
Jack’s bare burning skin pressed against her back, and being who she was, she could only wonder if he was standing on her dress, but Mr. Nathanson had, she intuited, stepped a few steps back.
He was allowing her to ease downwards as Jack gathered handfuls of her blonde curls, kissing the back of her neck with ember lips.
If this was punishment, Ethena resolved to behave much, much worse.
She gasped as the tip pushed against her, not by itself, as they were both pushing up against her, putting pressure on that sweet spot that she often wished men would linger against.
Did they both mean to take her, would they even fit? Alas, she knew the answer was yes. She’d had men bigger than the two of them combined.
Mr. Nathanson entered her smoothly, coating himself in her wetness, allowing Jack to do the same, an easy thing, seeing that she was soaked as the swollen ground after rain.
Ethena whimpered as they both entered her, almost in perfect sync, stretching her to the brink.
She needn’t do anything after that, she needn’t even think, as they took her, simultaneously, strong hands holding her up, bodies sweat and heat slick, pressed tight against her, Jack’s hand tugging gently at her curls.
They went that way until every fiber of her body began to sing, like a tightened cord plucked into sweet melody. If she hadn’t been afraid that her voice might carry across the emptiness, she would have undoubtedly shaken the moon from its perch. Even as she crested Jack abandoned her intimacy, spreading his warmth on her fair back and round buttocks.
Mr. Nathanson did not.
Ethena’s breath caught as she came down. He was twitching inside of her, thrusting deeper.
Oh was it bittersweet in that moment, she understood now what payment she must pay, but she barely regretted it.
“You are not truly a wicked woman,” Mr. Nathanson told her softly, stroking her back and shoulders, “You only lack a strong hand to guide you.”
And you will be that strong hand. Ethena took a shuddering breath, a forbidden pleasure sweeping her. “Yes sir, only a strong hand,” she agreed, holding onto his neck all the tighter.