His Mistress

by Treva Harte

  "Mine." She heard him say in her ear. "You're mine."

  She saw her hands gripping the seat of the chair, fighting for some control. But this time everything seemed beyond her ability to contain. Mercy wanted to feel. Just feel. And she was. Pleasure, submission, excitement, sharp almost-pain as he pounded into her. She moaned louder as the pace grew even fiercer. Then he stopped, the head of his penis touching but not quite inside her.

  "Say it."

  She knew what he wanted and she clamped her lips shut. Mercy wiggled her rear invitingly against him. He was ready for her, she knew it. But he wouldn't enter her. She could feel tears in her eyes, tears of want and anger and frustrated desire.

  His breath sucked in and out next to her ear. Neither of them said anything. His hand reached to touch—almost—her swollen, wet clitoris. Then he pulled away. He was going to tease her. And she would go quite mad.

  "I'm yours." Mercy let the words burst out of her.

  His fingers dug into her hips, pulling her hard against him. Their sweat made their bodies slide even more quickly as the two of them parted, then fiercely came together again. Finally the pace was too much to endure. Mercy knew she had to scream. She was going to climax, loudly. She couldn't stop herself. But at the first sound, James' hand clapped over her mouth. She bit it hard.

  Somehow that small violence was the final thing Mercy needed for her orgasm. Her whole body quaked as she felt that rush of ecstasy course through her. As she did she felt James pull out from her almost immediately. He didn't withdraw from her entirely. She could feel him against her rear, still erect. Groaning softly, he thrust hard against her thigh. Once more. Twice. The sudden rush of his semen hard against her leg, made her shiver with residual delight and dismay. She'd wanted him to burst inside her, had wanted—

  No. She had told him not to. He'd obeyed her in that, though he had pleasured himself as he chose otherwise. And he'd pleasured her. Oh Lord, he had. With that thought she collapsed completely against the chair, her legs unable to hold her weight. She felt James slide down her back, down the back of her leg and then, with one hand still gripping her ankle, he rested his body on the floor.

  Their mingled pants for air were all that was heard for a moment in the room.

  "That solved nothing," Mercy finally managed.

  She ought to be angry. Furious. Now besides risking her freedom and his, he had risked discovery of their liaison together. She would never have been able to face Captain Bryant again had he walked in on the two of them. That gossip would have soon spread through the town and her humiliation would be complete.

  "Perhaps not. " James' voice was amused again and almost calm. "But aren't you glad that we did?"

  "Yes. You scoundrel." Mercy conceded the point as she looked down at him.

  "I may be a scoundrel, Mistress Baines, but you are the one who injured my one good hand." James kept his eyes shut as he spoke, but she saw his mouth begin to smile again. Her James was back. "I'll never be able to get back to work at this rate, love."

  * * * * *

  Mercy sat up in her bed and stared. Was she with him? No. No, she was in her bedroom. For a moment she'd felt trapped in her dream and she'd feared that this time when she woke up…but of course she was in her own room and her own bed.

  Her head hurt a little from all the wine she'd had at dinner. Mercy wasn't used to drinking. She wasn't used to having a handsome man flirt with her outrageously. Cullen had been very entertaining.

  So why had she dreamed of the Boston Mercy and her James instead of the real life man she'd met? Any normal woman would be overwhelmed to have someone like Cullen tell her she was beautiful, that he'd daydreamed through work thinking about her…Mercy sighed. Why did what he had to say seem more of a fantasy than the one she was creating, night after night, in her mind?

  Because it had to be a fantasy. A two hundred and fifty thousand dollar fantasy to be exact. Mercy had never had any man interested in her before. Not the way Cullen was interested. But after thirty-three years, she knew enough to know someone like Cullen wouldn't want just her alone.

  He’d listened to her while she tried to dredge up polite conversation. When she ran out of conversation he’d listened more when she told him what it had been like, really like, to deal with someone dying slowly in front of you.

  “You’re amazing,” he’d said at last. “I’m in awe.”

  “Of what?”

  “That you can be so strong and so gentle. And that you seem so lost— so unaware of your own worth.”

  Worth? She was worth two hundred and fifty thousand dollars, no more and no less.

  “And, Mercy—“

  “Yes?”

  “I wish you trusted me more. Liked me better.”

  “I— I like you fine. For someone I don’t know very well.”

  “Then we’ll have to get to know each other better, won’t we?”

  The evening came to an end, of course. And someone younger and richer, someone clever and amusing and young, wouldn’t want to really spend more time with her. After all, at the end of the evening he’d brought her back and left her to crawl into bed by herself. He hadn’t kissed her again. Just that one quick tease of a kiss at the start and then nothing.

  Well, perhaps he’d looked at her and her breath caught. But that was her being stupid again, not anything he’d actually done. She had imagined he looked as if he wanted to push the door down behind her and sweep her into the house …

  But he hadn’t, had he? She was here and he was—well, wherever young, handsome, clever young men went after they’d done their duty to boring old maids.

  And why didn't she care more? Instead, all she was worried about was that her dreams seemed to be speeding toward something. At first what she saw had gone day to day, then suddenly it skipped over weeks at a time. She didn't know why. If they were her dreams why couldn't she make it linger? And what were the dreams speeding toward?

  Mercy lay back down again, but suddenly she was afraid to go back to sleep. If she slept, she'd start again. She knew that. And she was beginning to be afraid the dreams were moving toward a nightmare rather than a sexual fantasy.

  The phone rang. Mercy sucked in a breath. Nighttime telephone calls meant emergencies. Then she remembered Luke was dead. There was no family member she needed to worry about.

  Mercy picked up the receiver.

  "Mercy?" It was Cullen's voice. "I have a problem."

  Chapter Six

  Mercy was trying to have no more on her mind that spring morning than the prospect of washing not only her own laundry but Captain Bryant's. That was no small task even though it was a pleasant morning.

  If the British soldiers were gathering and rumors flying all about town, well, that was nothing to her. If James had disappeared last night and not been seen all today, well then he had best have a good explanation when he returned. Captain Bryant had left this morning in uniform. She refused to worry. If the British Army was about to move onto the countryside well then, she was safe enough inside Boston—

  She stopped at the bedroom door. There was a body lying on the bed.

  Mercy gasped. For a moment her mind flew back to her husband's death there in the same place.

  "No!" Mercy exclaimed as she realized whose body was stretched out on the covers.

  Not James! She wouldn't let it be James! She ran toward the bed and stopped.

  It was James. A gagged James who was tied so tightly to the bedposts that he couldn't move. He glared at her as she stared.

  She moved forward more slowly, and tugged the gag from his mouth. He spit and cleared his throat. She watched him toss his dark hair out of his eyes and then stared at the ropes gripping his wrists. They had to have been strong. There were marks where he'd pulled at them.

  "That cursed Irish bastard trussed me up like a pig on a spit before he left. Told me he'd be damned if he'd let me tell my friends where they were headed." James' usual calm was gone. "Let me go, Mercy. I have to
let the others know what's planned."

  "Go?" Mercy's voice sounded odd to herself. Her fear about him was gone now. But another emotion had taken its place. She'd never been hit so suddenly with such lust in her life. Her legs trembled with the force of it.

  "Mercy?" James stared at her.

  "No. No, I don't think I will let you go." Mercy took one step closer yet. "It's all right. Paul Revere will warn Adams and Hancock. As for the rest of it—well, what happens can start without the two of us."

  She reached directly for the buttons on the fold of his breeches. Her hands were shaking, just a little. Should she be embarrassed? Mercy realized she wasn't. She had no room for any other feelings. Only one. She wanted him.

  The impatience and anger in James' face was changing too as he looked at her.

  "Mercy, I need you to untie me—“

  She shook her head as she got the final button free. Then she bent her head and took his cock into her mouth. Oh, yes. He didn't want to be untied. Or at least his cock didn't mind staying.

  "Ahh." His half-sigh, half-growl filled the room. "Mercy, we mustn't. God, that feels good but—“

  Mercy laughed, shook her head, and stepped back. His cock twitched violently at their separation. Mercy took off her small cap and then shook her hair loose. It fell about her shoulders, almost hiding her breasts as she unfastened her bodice. Almost.

  For once they didn't have to worry about noise. Paul had scurried away this morning to make deliveries and then play with other apprentices who were also shirking their work. He wouldn't be back until dark. There was no one here but the two of them. And one of them was quite helpless.

  There was so much to undo and remove. Mercy realized James had never had to chance to see her completely naked in broad daylight before. She had no chance to be shy—the look on his face showed her that he completely approved of her nudity. She wanted to hurry but her fingers felt clumsy and unused to her clothing suddenly…She pulled off the dress at last with a sigh of relief.

  "I love your breasts, Mercy," James said. "The nipples are so pink and when they tighten…I want to take them in my mouth and make you scream."

  Mercy's hands shook more.

  "I'll never get the undershift off if you keep talking," she said, almost crossly.

  "I love your thighs. When I run my tongue over them they taste so sweet. And then I want to bite them…" his voice was hoarse.

  As punishment for his chatter, Mercy paused and nuzzled her own mouth between his thighs. He bucked when she licked his scrotum, abruptly stopping when the ropes at his legs would let him move no further. Her undershift was loose about her and she could see his eyes staring down it to her body.

  "Let me lick, Mercy. Taste you. Please."

  Mercy kneeled over his mouth and threw her undershift off at the same time. His tongue was hot and covered her clit immediately. She reached behind her back and covered his cock with her hands.

  His cock jumped again and Mercy smiled and eased herself back and away. She knew it didn't hurt that her breasts thrust forward as she kept her hands on his cock, pressing it just lightly.

  James looked like he was strangling for breath.

  "Let my hands free!"

  "Not yet." Mercy bent forward and nibbled on one male nipple.

  His whole body quivered. She smiled and backed away again, this time positioning herself on the tip of his cock. He strained to move it up further but his bonds only allowed for a fraction of an inch inside her.

  "Do you want to kill me?" he asked.

  "I want to pleasure you." Mercy rubbed her body a little lower down his length and his eyes half shut. She knew what that meant now. He was caught in his own desire. "And I am. Aren't I? Tell me, James."

  "Never have I…been so…tormented. . ."

  "And pleased?"

  "And pleased, damn your eyes."

  Mercy chuckled, the feeling of power mixing with the lust. She shoved herself down on his cock and they both moaned.

  "That would be damn my eyes, Mistress," she said sweetly and clenched her muscles tight around him.

  "Mistress—“ James shut his eyes completely, his face contorting. "You're a cruel and…exciting…Mistress."

  "And yours. Your mistress."

  "Oh God, yes."

  She stretched her arms out, touching the ropes at his wrist and leaning forward so her breasts brushed his chest. She liked seeing him sweat and groan beneath her. She was making this strong man, taller and bigger and more physically powerful, moan and collapse underneath her.

  Mercy chuckled again and her own breath caught. One thing hadn't collapsed yet. It felt hard and harder yet as she began to move up and down, slowly. She wanted to hurry the pace but—

  "I can't endure it, Mistress. You have to go faster." James' voice was thick.

  It almost killed her but she slowed down even more.

  "Do I?" She realized her own voice was thick, too. "Why? Mustn't you do what I desire?"

  His tongue reached out and licked the sweat above his lip. She let one finger caress his throat, follow the corded vein in his neck. His pulse was beating fast. Very fast.

  "Yes. I have to. I’m yours." He spoke at last.

  That was all she needed. She pushed herself down completely, taking the full, hard length of his cock up inside her own wet sheath. Mercy felt herself gripping hard, hard, squeezing. She looked down to see James looking closer to agony than climax.

  But she knew, she knew…She could hear her own pants as she moved faster yet. She was the conqueror and James was hers. Completely hers. She watched his head twist to the side as he groaned agonizingly, as she felt her own body's heat rush over her and consume her in one tightening, almost terrifying release…

  "Mercy!"

  She fell forward on her hands, trying to catch her breath. She could feel James' cock still quiver inside her, trying to get the last of his semen out into her flesh.

  Then they said nothing more for a long moment. Gradually Mercy's breathing slowed down.

  "My bonds, Mistress?" James' voice was almost back to normal.

  For one mad moment she thought about not releasing him—never releasing him. She savored the idea a bit more and then regretfully made herself do what she must. Mercy pulled at the ropes with a scowl. They were tight and difficult to loosen. She finally managed the ones at his wrist and had begun his those at his ankles when he asked his second question.

  "I—Could I have made you pregnant?"

  Mercy shook her head.

  "The timing is all right?"

  "No. I just took precautions." Mercy frowned, trying to remember what. She had, she was sure of it but—

  James almost relaxed but then his eyes narrowed again. He asked his third question.

  "How did you know about Master Revere and who he would warn?"

  Mercy stopped and tried to think. How indeed?

  "I don't…I don't know." Her head felt confused. She knew from—she had read it? How could that be?

  "What do you mean?" James' voice sharpened. Her lover was gone. Now he was all business. "How could you not remember? Damn it, Mercy! Did you make all this up? As soon as I get free I'll need to—“

  "No. It's over. Soon the rebels will be leaving town and the loyalists will be coming in. The British are being picked apart right now at Lexington and Concord. Poor Captain Bryant. It's just like what happened to Braddock long ago with the Indians who tore into his troops." Mercy heard herself saying this all in a flat, calm voice. "Things will have changed completely again with the British retreat."

  James was sitting upright, staring at her.

  "Are you spying for us? For the British? Who is telling you all this? "

  "No one told me. I just know. Because—“ Mercy held her head. The images were clear now. Too clear.

  "Because?"

  "I'm from the future."

  Chapter Seven

  Mercy woke up knowing something was different. The breath that blew against her
ear, warm and lazy, reminded her what it was. Who it was. Cullen. She felt the aches and the contented drowsiness in her body. Once again that was from Cullen.

  Cullen's hand reached out to grip one breast and begin to fondle the nipple to hardness. Mercy bit her lip, feeling her heart start to race again.

  "You still have a problem then?" She knew her voice sounded teasing. Hers. She never teased. Not until Cullen.

  "I seem to have the same problem I did before I called you." Just the way Cullen said the words made her want to laugh. That and the hard erection he was holding against her rear.

  "Do we need to work on it again?"

  Last night had been…amazing. She'd had no idea until lately how enjoyable it was to have a man underneath you, waiting for you to do whatever you wanted. And once you knew, it was even more delightful discovering that he was more than ready to participate.

  "I knew you'd be hell on wheels in bed. If you just let go," Cullen had laughed, a little breathlessly, up at her sometime during the night.

  She looked over at them both in the mirror. She looked wild, her hair flying and her face glowing. She looked…she looked like hell on wheels. She’d never looked like that before. And Cullen? Cullen had looked delicious.

  Mercy bent down to deliberately bite his earlobe. He yelped, and then his hands reached up to grab her hips and pull her down on top of him.

  "You're bossy, too."

  "I'm about to be independently wealthy. Well, at least debt-free. I'm entitled to a little assertiveness." She lifted herself up and then down. "And a little ass, too."

  "Mmmmm." His hands reached out to touch her nipples. "So you're going to take the money?"

  "Yes. I'm taking it and it's going to help me live my life again. I'm going to find out what I can do besides take care of a dying man." Mercy paused for a moment and looked down at the lawyer. Did he want her money? She didn’t feel sure of that any more. Still—

  "I may travel. Everywhere. I've always wanted to travel. Once I pay the hospital bills, I may spend every remaining cent on riding all over creation."

  He pulled himself up just high enough to let his tongue brush over those hard, aching nipples, making them harder, making them ache even more. Then he lowered himself down again. She bent over, following that clever tongue of his, wanting more. How dare he withdraw just when she was heating up again?