His to Taste Read online

  Contents

  Title

  Copyright

  Chapter One

  Fantasy #1

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Fantasy #2

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  His to Taste

  Jacqueline Winlock

  Copyright © 2013 Jacqueline Winlock

  Cover image Copyright by Kletr / Shutterstock.com

  All Rights Reserved.

  No part of this publication may be copied, reproduced in any format, by any means, electronic or otherwise, without prior consent from the copyright owner and publisher of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  This book identifies product names and services known to be trademarks, registered trademarks, or service marks of their respective holders. They are used throughout this book in an editorial fashion only. Use of a term in this book should not be regarded as affecting the validity of any trademark, registered trademark, or service mark. The author is not associated with any product or vendor mentioned in this book.

  This e-book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language suited for a mature audience. Please store your files safely where they cannot be accessed by minors.

  CHAPTER ONE

  I knew the HR director hated me before I even had the chance to sit down.

  She had barely glanced at my resume before she had pasted on a condescending smirk on her perfectly made up face. Was she wearing MAC’s Russian Red lipstick, or was that Dior’s Celebrity Red? Either way, today was going to be a crappy day to add to my already crappy several months of job hunting.

  “Well, Lynn,” she said, barely hiding the fact that she was checking the clock.

  “I understand from my assistant that you were former college classmates. However, your respective resumes are quite different. Can you explain to me why you have so little on-the-job experience, please?”

  I tried to clear my throat, but my rapidly drying mouth was not helping my cause. Mentally groaning, I began my well-rehearsed little speech.

  “I do understand that you must be concerned by my lack of work experience, Ms. Lewis, but I assure you that I’m a quick learner and a dedicated worker. As you can see from my resume, I completed a few internships, but at the time, I was living at home with my grandmother. She preferred that I focused only on my schoolwork instead of working part-time. Unfortunately, she’s quite old-fashioned, and she didn’t approve of me working nights. Please know that I’ll make up for it by working twice as hard as your other applicants, and I—”

  “Yes,” she interjected. “I’m sure you would, but I hope you can understand that I can’t very well take a gamble on you in this current economy. I agreed to this interview as a personal favor to my assistant, but I see no point in wasting each other’s time. Although this is a temp position in my department, I have a long list of better qualified applicants than yourself. Julia will show you out.” With that abrupt dismissal, she turned back to her computer and I knew that the interview was over.

  I lurched up out of my chair, and grabbed my purse.

  “Ms. Lewis, I appreciate your time. Thank you for the opportunity.” I walked out of her office, and tried to keep the dejected slump out of my shoulders, but I just felt so damn tired of the constant rejection.

  My friend Julia was already waiting for me with a small cup of chamomile tea. Grateful for her support, I accepted the cup, and took a small sip. It gave me something to focus on without showing her my embarrassment.

  “Thanks, hon,” I said. “You’re such a good friend to stick your neck out for me—I’m sorry that I couldn’t win over your boss.”

  Julia pulled me out into the lobby and we settled onto a large couch by the main entrance. “Oh, sweetie,” she said, with a comforting little hug. “Of course, I’d do anything to help you! I just wish you would take more of my advice. Seriously, what are you wearing? Is that suit even from this decade?!”

  I tugged awkwardly at the overlong cuffs and rolled my eyes. “I know,” I sighed. “But I barely have the funds to support Grandma and me. How could I possibly scrape up enough cash to buy new interview clothes? Honestly, I was lucky enough to find this ugly thing in storage. The goal was to look professional and modest, remember?”

  Julia poked at my ill-fitting beige skirt, and shuddered. “Ugh, you’re so melodramatic, girl. Don’t blame this monstrosity on being strapped for cash. You just hate shopping because you can’t stand trying on clothes. Just because this covers up your amazing rack doesn’t mean that it’s appropriate. You look sloppy in this when you could easily find a cheap suit that actually fits your curves.”

  Staring glumly at my empty cup, I muttered, “Yeah, well, it’s just a waste of money to buy new clothes when I’m constantly trying to lose some damn weight, anyway. You’ve always been skinny and gorgeous—you don’t know what it’s like to have to count your stupid calories 24/7.”

  Julia shook her head and took my cup. Frowning, she said, “Honey, it was baby fat when we were little. Now, you just have awesome womanly curves! You’d have a gorgeous hourglass figure if you’d just dress your shape properly. Listen, why don’t you come over to my place tonight, and we’ll get dolled up and go barhopping with the girls? C’mon, you need it!”

  I was already up and ready to leave before she finished her sentence.

  “Hell, no,” I cried. “Do you remember the absolute disaster last time? There aren’t enough years in my life to get over that humiliation!”

  Julia walked me to the entrance and gave me one last comforting hug.

  “Sweetie,” she said. “You know that Ellen didn’t mean to blurt out that you’re a virgin living at home with your grandma. She gets obnoxious when she’s drunk, but I’m sure he didn’t even hear her over the music. She just figured that any ice breaker was good enough.”

  “Well,” I said, over my shoulder. “That ice breaker sure convinced him that I was a frigid weirdo. He couldn’t get away from me fast enough. I looked like a prudish freak with a fortified chastity belt. Look, you have fun tonight, girl, and I’ll see you later. Thanks again!” She waved from the front doors as I got into my old sedan and headed home.

  After breaking the bad news to Grandma, I was able to send her off with our neighbor for dinner and an evening of bridge. I settled into bed with my laptop and a pint of chocolate brownie ice cream. There were no new emails from prospective employers, and I dutifully sent out a thank you letter to Ms. Lewis.

  Thanks for nothing, you judgmental harpy. I scraped up the last bits of ice cream, and clicked onto my favorite erotica website for a little bit of self-indulgence.

  I first discovered these anonymously submitted stories in college. Since my parents had passed away in a car accident when I was a toddler, my grandparents raised me. Before he passed away a few years back, Grandpa was as mild-tempered as Grandma was excitable. I never doubted their love, but they were always strict as far back as I can remember. Grandma, especially, disapproved of everything that would make a young lady “fast.”

  School dances were for harlots. Makeup made you look like a tart. Boys were never allowed to call me on the phone, and it would never have even occurred to me to broach the subject of having one come over for a study session. Grandma wanted me to be a proper young lady, and I appeased her by attending a local college nearby. I’ve been on a f
ew dates here and there, but I was always too shy to allow anything further than an awkward hug at the end of the night.

  As is the usual result with repressed adolescents, I took to the only outlets I could find as a sexually curious young woman; hidden romance novels and the Internet. Grandma always assumed that my laptop was only used for schoolwork and she never felt the need to use it in the first place.

  As much as I loved my romance novels as a teenager, I needed something darker as I grew older and read more erotica online. The more I read, the more I started hoard my favorite stories to savor again and again. Although Grandma would never use my laptop, I was paranoid that she would somehow stumble over my collection, so I saved them all in a desktop file labeled “Tasty”; I figured that the title was innocuous enough that no one would have any reason to poke around in there.

  Despite my inexperience, I was fascinated with stories about dominant male heroes and fantasies about control. As a 22 year old woman that had never been kissed, the element of giving up control and submitting to an experienced man made me incredibly horny. I wanted to trigger insatiable animalistic lust in a gorgeous man. I wanted him to lose all control. I wanted him to desperately ache for me and force me to respond to his hunger and make me come over and over again before fucking me silly.

  If I was being honest with myself, I’d acknowledge that I really just wanted to be taught, but I didn’t want to have to take responsibility for exploring my sexuality. A part of me still wanted to be a good girl, and it just seemed easier to blame it on someone else seducing me, instead of feeling weakness for giving into my baser needs. Obviously, I wasn’t interested in allowing some random pushy asshole to take advantage of me, but I just wished I could reconcile my fantasies with someone that I might meet outside of my dirty stories.

  Realistically, I knew I wasn’t a supermodel. I was only about 5’2”, with large breasts and a curvy ass. As much as I tried to diet and jog, I was cursed with stubborn genes. I would never have a lithe figure like Julia’s and my thighs will always touch. Taking birth control pills regulated my random periods and fortunately kept my complexion clear. Along with these birthing hips, I inherited my thick shiny black hair from my grandma’s side. When I take the time to curl it and dab on some makeup, I did generate some male interest. Unfortunately, I was perpetually tongue-tied whenever I talked to a cute guy, and they immediately lost interest to find a more sophisticated conquest.

  At least when I read my erotica, I didn’t have to focus on my weight or my inexperience. I could just enjoy my body for the pleasure that it gave me. Feeling the tension in my shoulders start to relax, I opened up one of my favorite bookmarked stories on my laptop and pulled out a tiny bottle of massage oil to indulge in my evening ritual.

  Lord Moreland silently watched his new chambermaid earnestly struggle beneath his massive bed to retrieve his mislaid cravat. The dedicated young miss had crawled on all fours and wiggled her plump little buttocks enticingly in her quest. She was so dedicated to her task that she did not hear his footfalls as he loomed up behind her vulnerable little figure. Despite his tall muscular build, he treaded softly on the plush rug. His dark hair glinted in the soft candlelight.

  “My dear girl,” he said, as he gently caressed her soft thighs under her skirts. “You are to be commended for showing such devotion to your craft, but you did not have to purposefully go to such lengths to attract my attention to fuck you.”

  Lily squeaked, thumped her poor head on the bed-frame, and tried to scuttle out, but he held her firmly in place. “Oh, milord!” she gasped, muffled by her unfortunate position. She desperately struggled from his hands, but his grip tightened firmly. “Please, milord, I’m a good decent girl, and I didn’t mean for you to find me so!” She wiggled again in vain, and cried out when he spanked her bottom smartly. Her skirts padded the blow, but she squealed in shock.

  He responded by squeezing her pliant flesh. “Shush, sweeting,” he laughed. “You don’t need to cry innocent with me. You’re not the first maid to come seeking my coin for a tumble, and a bit of extra playacting always guarantees an extra shilling, or two, doesn’t it? You’ll be amply rewarded, I assure you.”

  She whimpered and tried to break free again, desperately slapping at his wandering hands, but he simply batted her small hands away as if he would a tiny insect. His warm hands were immovable, but gentle, as if he was soothing a nervous filly.

  Trembling under his touch, she recounted the housekeeper’s stern warnings to stay away from their licentious employer, but she had naively assumed that he would occupy himself with the other more experienced servants. Although she caught occasional glimpses of him while quietly attending to her duties, she had never dared to acknowledge him with anything beyond a graceful curtsy and a shy smile. A few of the other maids flashed him saucy smirks and suggestive innuendo that never failed to make her blush whenever she was within earshot.

  In her innocence, she had never dreamed that she would entice Lord Moreland’s lust, as she was simply a fresh-faced girl from the countryside. Out of desperate necessity, her parents had sent her out into the world as soon as she had her eighteenth birthday, and she had sent her first month’s wages to help support them and her four younger sisters.

  “Please, milord,” she said. “Perhaps the other girls will be more suitable for your purposes.” She squirmed beneath him when one of his hands lightly trailed down the back of her thighs.

  “I…I do not know any tricks to earn the extra coin, and my wages are sufficient to send home to my family.” Despite her decidedly undignified position, she was grateful that she did not have to look into his face during this embarrassing exchange.

  With a low chuckle, he rocked back onto his heels to contemplate the sweetest little bum he had ever encountered.

  “On the contrary,” he drawled. “Mrs. Barrows tells me that your family is in rather dire straits, sweeting. Upon hiring you, she assured me that your situation would guarantee your diligence. As you have proven yourself, your position is safe here, regardless of what you decide. Since you’ve been such a lovely distraction to me since you first arrived, I can offer you this proposition, Lily: agree to be my mistress, and I will provide a settlement for your family to ease their financial burdens.”

  “Oh, my,” she whispered, more to herself than to him. “I was raised to save myself for marriage, milord. “I just don’t know what to say. For how long would I have to…be in your service?”

  “For however long our arrangement is mutually beneficial, my dear,” he said. “Financial security may be more practical than wearing a wedding band, lovely Lily.” He fingered the hem of her dress, and waited patiently for her answer.

  Despite her trepidation at losing her innocence, she knew that her family would not survive the impending harsh winter without the extra funds. She could not justify turning down this opportunity if it meant that she could provide for them all. If her physical body was the price, then she would still possess her heart and mind.

  She sucked in a deep breath and sealed her fate with one quiet, “Yes.”

  Satisfied, he resumed caressing her thighs, and said, “That’s a good girl.” He began to slowly draw up her skirts as she remained on her hands and knees. She could feel the draft hitting her skin, and she shivered from the cold and his touch. His strong hands gently massaged her silky flesh, and she felt herself responding gradually to his artful hands. He trailed his fingers further up her inner thighs. She softly moaned when he pushed his way into the slit of her delicate underdrawers, and lightly stroked her warm pussy lips.

  “Ah,” he breathed. “You are shorn there. My thanks for saving me the trouble of shaving your sweet little cunny, sweeting.” His questing fingers took advantage of the hot juices dripping from her as he slowly delved deeper and deeper into her softness.

  She unconsciously gyrated her hips to feel more of his clever fingers, and cried out in shock when he suddenly pulled her from out beneath the bed, and tossed her
onto the covers. She blushed when he casually divested himself of his clothes. Shyly averting her gaze, she slowly began to undress before she lost her nerve. Her heart pounded wildly as she could see his wickedly large manhood grow more turgid with each article of clothing unearthing more of her young flesh.

  When she finally lay back and demurely tried to cover herself with her hands and her long mahogany hair, he held her hands down over her head, as he fitted his large muscular body over her petite form. She trembled as he hungrily attacked her soft lips, and gasped in surprise when he forced his tongue into her mouth. As he softened the kiss, and stroked her soft belly with his free hand, she gradually relaxed against him as she felt the pleasure rise up within her. He nipped and sucked at her delicate throat as she lay beneath him like a virginal sacrifice. She felt his phallus stabbing urgently at her belly, and she tried to wriggle away from its insistent length.

  He groaned at her movements and left the bed. Surprised and shivering without his heat, she saw him gracefully bend beneath the bed, and was shocked to find him quickly tying her hands to the headboard with the errant cravat. She tugged ineffectively at the bonds and found herself completely at his mercy.

  “Milord,” she beseeched. “I don’t understand. Why would you need to truss me up when I have already agreed to submit to you?” She gasped in delight when he bent his dark head to suckle on her plump breast. She wished she had her hands free to clutch his head closer to her bosom.

  In between his long leisurely licks of her rosy little nipples, he murmured, “Because it pleases me, sweeting. As my mistress, you are here solely for my pleasure. My pleasure demands that I take my fill of you and your lovely sweet tits, your juicy cunny, and your hot little mouth.”

  He trailed more kisses and licks down her soft belly, and pushed her thighs apart to accommodate his broad shoulders. She gasped in shock as no one had ever seen her so intimately, and tried to close her legs. He only laughed and shoved her legs further apart.