The Craftsman by Georgia Fox

thought of entering that pussy was enough to harden his shaft. After what she’d shown him last night, he knew now that he’d like it. Very much. He might never want to stop doing it. The only issue was whether or not he could make her content, especially since she acted so coy about her own needs. He was a simple carpenter, not a mind reader.
    “Tell me what you want me to do,” he whispered hoarsely, sliding a finger up and down where he knew her womanly slit waited for him, getting wet. “What do you want, Emma?”
    He stared into her eyes and she shifted on the bench, parting her legs to give his wandering hand greater access. It was lucky the table was covered with a tapestry cloth, he mused, or else everyone in the yard would see what he did. He wouldn’t care, but she undoubtedly would, being a lady.
    “What shall I do first tonight?” he pushed.
    She cleared her throat, and he felt the urge to put his lips to her neck. He quelled it for now. “You may,” she spoke very quietly, barely moving her lips, “kiss my breasts.”
    He would see her without her shift tonight, he realized. Her soft skin would be his to touch.
    “You may take the nipple in your mouth and suck. Gently.”
    Suddenly, he spied Thierry Bonnenfant watching them intently from the far end of the table. Wulf nodded solemnly, as if he discussed the weather with his wife. “Go on.”
    “I’ll hold you.”
    “Hold my what?”
    “Your manhood.”
    He fidgeted as his cock filled and stretched.
    “I’ll stroke it. If you would like me to, I will do as I did last night.” Once again she made it about what he wanted. It did not escape his notice, but he made no comment, too caught up in the picture she made with her words.
    Wulf saw Thierry watching Emma’s lips as if he could read them from a distance. “What next,” he ground out, nodding again, picturing her ladylike mouth closing over his cock head.
    “Then, when you are ready—hard and long—I’ll lay back and spread my legs so you can enter me.”
    Wulf’s fingers caressed her pussy again through her gown. He could feel it pulsing.
    “You must go slowly,” she added, her breath catching as he pressed down on her with two fingers, right at the top of that naughty crevice. “As long as I am wet, it shouldn’t hurt, but as I told you…you are large, so…”
    He couldn’t hear for a moment because blood was rushing through his ears as he pictured the scene in bed. Oh she’d be wet alright. He’d make certain of it, now that he knew how to make her aroused. Make her purr.
    At the end of the table, Thierry drank his wine and looked morose.
    Wulf chuckled. Couldn’t help it.
     
    * * * *
     
    Emma tried to close her legs and halt the orgasm, but he wouldn’t let her. His large, strong hand prevented her easily. His thick, craftsman’s fingers worked her quaking pussy through her gown until she almost lifted off the bench. She grabbed her goblet of wine and her teeth closed over the rim. Henry would never have done this to her in public. But then Henry was a Norman, educated and well-bred, not a crude beast who’d been a prisoner for fifteen years and claimed to be a virgin, even as he so expertly played with her.
    “And what’s next?” he demanded, surely knowing full well she couldn’t speak just then with his fingertips pushing down on her core, making the pressure mount until she could no longer hold it.
    She smothered her cries in the wine.
    On her other side, Deorwynn was chattering away to Guy Devaux, oblivious to what went on under the table. Nearby there was music and singing. Yet she and Wulf were completely alone in that crowd. Emma felt the hot waves wash over her. It was an extraordinarily long climax, even making her belly ache.
    Wulf whispered in her ear again. “After I’ve come hard in your cunt and filled you to overflowing, what then?”
    He was so brutal with his words. She had the feeling he only whispered because he knew it aroused her more, not