Mary licked her lips, her sweet breasts heaving as she struggled. “I’ve a good guess.”
She snuggled close, pressing her side against his, so much smaller than him, and yet the difference somehow made him feel fragile. Her fingers trailed over his chest, pausing at his nipple to circle it. He groaned but she drifted further down, to his aching cock, that somehow was still half hidden beneath the rumpled sheet, all but his head. That was peeking out, begging, really, for attention. Her lids lowered in somnolent perusal as her voice darkened. “Let me touch you, and we shall compare.”
The linen slithered over him, caressing before the cool air hit. It only inflamed his ardor.
“Glorious.” Her warm hand ran over his flesh, and he sighed.
Tentative and exploratory at first, her touch soon grew more assured. And then it turned almost reverent, as though she loved the feel of him as much as he loved the feel of her touch. Resting his forehead against hers, he simply breathed her in and caressed her sex, keeping time with her strokes. Their breath mingled and steamed.
“Do you know how long I’ve wanted you here?” he said against her open lips. “How many times I’ve pictured you in my bed?”
Her lashes fluttered down, her mouth soft and exploring, making his head spin. “I wanted it to be me. When you were pleasuring yourself. I wanted to be the one touching you.”
“I wanted it to be you too,” he rasped. “So much so it hurt.” God, had it hurt.
One slim hand held on to his shoulder, the other hand stroking, pulling. He was silent, his eyes closed, just feeling. Feeling her hand love his flesh, explore it with bolder touches. Stroking.
Hands stroking. Always so gentle at first. Coercing, teasing. Cold sliced through him, twisting his guts. No, not now. Not here. And still he shuddered sickly, his mouth watering with nausea. His hands left her, found the sheet, and gripped tight. No. Not with her.
She knew, had to have felt his panic, for she stopped, her hand sliding to his hip. Hell, he hated the relief that coursed through him when she let go.
“Jack?”
He took a shaking breath and faced her. Concern was there, and understanding. He could not stand seeing himself reflected in her gold gaze.
The steady warmth of her palm at his hip seeped into his bones as she spoke. “I don’t have to touch you.”
“I want you to touch me.” His voice broke, weak and pathetic thing that he was. He sucked in another breath. “I need you to touch me. It’s… I closed my eyes and—” Hell. He didn’t want to say it.
But she knew. Of course she knew. She saw far too much of him. “Look at me, Jack.”
He could never refuse her.
She was beautiful. She’d always been lovely, but affection and tenderness transformed her into the most beautiful woman he’d ever see. Their gazes locked as her hand wrapped once more around him, giving him a little squeeze. Blood rushed back to his cock. It swelled and filled her hand as if it belonged there.
She stroked him, a long, assured glide. He grunted, his balls drawing up tight and his body going hot. Her eyes watched him. “Feels good?”
“Yes. God, yes.” His breath fractured.
Another stroke, down, then up, her thumb gliding over his swollen head. He grunted, arching into the touch.
She kept at it, steady, deliberate. “Look at what I’m doing to you, Jack.”
The sight of her slim, elegant hand wrapped around him, her skin so pale against his ruddy flesh, had him shivering, swelling harder.
“This is us, Jack,” she said as she worked him. “You and I, this is what we create.”
A choked, broken sound left him, and he burrowed his head in the crook of her neck. “Mary. Mary.” His arms wrapped around her, pulling her closer. His body felt like cold stone, save where she touched him. Dully, his heart thudded against his ribs. “For however long you’ll have me, Mary. Whatever it takes.”
He wasn’t coherent, he knew. Yet she understood. Her breathy, tender reply felled him. “I suppose I’ll be keeping you then, Jack Talent.”
Her slim arm wrapped about his waist, and the soft mounds of her breasts pressed into his side. Lightly she traced a finger down the groove that divided his abdomen, the touch making him shiver.
“Why?” he croaked. When she first arrived, he’d expected her to rail at him about the apples, perhaps chastise him for violating her privacy, then go on her way, leaving him alone.
“Because, Jack Talent, I can no more live without you than you can without me.”
A shuddering breath left him, and he pulled her closer, tucking her half under him. “I don’t understand.”
“You always think too much, Jack.” Her voice was low, her fingers still exploring, gently soothing him. “Did you honestly believe that I wouldn’t find you worthy?”
Jack drew back to look down at her. He tried to speak and failed. Because she knew him, knew how broken he was. Shame over his cowardliness hit him. All this time he’d been afraid to confess to her, but in truth, it wasn’t simply the confession, it was the belief that she wouldn’t have him regardless.
“It’s all right,” she said again, then placed a small, light kiss on his chest. “Broken or whole, I will always want you.”
A choked breath burst from him, and he fell over her, his face burrowing against her soft breasts as he clutched her hips. “I love you.” He wound his arms about her, crushing her surely. He couldn’t let go. “I love you. Always. Constantly. Completely. With everything—” And then he could speak no more.
Mary wrapped her arms about Jack’s broad shoulders and held him as he held her. She could not help but marvel at how good he felt in her arms, his solid strength against her, surrounding her with his warmth.
“I hate the way I treated you.” His voice was muffled and raw against her skin. “I’ll regret it until my dying day.”
She knew he could not quite understand why she’d forgiven him. Just as she knew most people would wonder the same. They did not know what she did. Her hand smoothed over his close-cropped hair, so silky yet rough on the upstroke. On the outside Jack Talent was tarnished and battered, but underneath he was sterling. Not even Jack truly understood this. But she would help him see it.
“Hush now,” she whispered. “Be at ease.” Because she knew that he needed the words too. He needed to know he was protected.
For her whole life, she’d thought of men in terms of force. Blunt instruments that asserted their will and strength. Jack was that, more so than most. But she had never truly realized a man’s vulnerability, that a man might need comfort and tenderness. In truth, a man was like crystal, all hard, cool surfaces and solid strength, yet so easily broken if mishandled.
They were twined together, Jack’s thigh between her legs, her arms wrapped about his shoulder and around his waist, his arms doing the same. Though it did not feel sexual, not at that moment. It felt peaceful. And she could not help but think of them as two strings, wound up tight to become rope, and stronger for it.
Because she’d been the one to give comfort, Jack’s head rested on her shoulder, a warm weight there now. Gradually she became aware of each soft breath he took, blooming across her breasts. Her nipples tightened against the tickling caresses, and she arched into the sensation, a small furtive motion that she could not resist.
Awareness shuddered through Jack, obvious in the way his muscles tensed and his breath grew unsteady. Slowly his big, roughened palm skimmed along her hip up to her waist. He held it there, his fingers just stroking, sending little shivers of pleasure through her. Jack’s hand stopped just beneath her breast, his fingers spread to cup her.
They were just her breasts, but when he looked at them, they became something more. Beautiful, erotic. They grew heavy, aching under his gaze, and a languid rush of heat coursed through her, the slick place between her legs clenching with delicious anticipation and need.
Even so, she couldn’t resist another tease. “They’re small.”
He lifted his hea
d, and his gaze darted from her breasts to her eyes and back again, as though he couldn’t keep from staring. The corner of his mouth quirked. “They are.”
She frowned, and he grinned with wicked intent. “Perhaps I can take the whole of one in my mouth.” Without warning he ducked his head and sucked her in deep, pulling nipple and flesh into his warm mouth as if he’d devour her.
A strangled sound tore from her. She arched up into him, jerking with each hot, wet tug. Her fingers dug into the sheets and she held on. “Jack!”
He smiled around her flesh before drawing away. “Close.” He kissed the under-curve of her breast. “But not quite all of it.”
She panted up at him. “You’ll kill me.”
“Then we’ll die together.” His breath brushed over her damp flesh as he nuzzled her nipple, then her collarbone. Mary shivered. His mouth found the spot at the base of her neck. His spot. He kissed it as the warm wall of his chest brushed against hers. “But not yet.”
Then he proceeded to destroy her by increments, his mouth everywhere, slow, wet kisses that discovered her secrets, warm hands coasting over her skin. And all the while whispering his love for her, how she made him burn, how she drove him mad, as if she were the one doing the destroying. And she sank into the feel of him surrounding her, her own hands and mouth charting the swells and valleys of his body.
Jack’s mouth met hers, his kiss melting and reshaping her lips, as he slid between her legs. They were flesh to flesh, from chest to thigh, his hard strength to her soft endurance. He cupped her jaw as he tilted his head and kissed her again, and again. “Mary,” he whispered. “Let me?”
Emotion clogged her throat. “I am yours.”
His head lifted, and his dark-green eyes went wide, his nostrils flaring. For a moment she feared he would stay that way, silent, staring as if he’d gone somewhere far away. Then his breath left in a sigh. Like relief. Like a first breath. “Mary mine.” His voice rolled over the words, as if trying them out for size.
Before she could answer, he canted his hips, a slight adjustment, and his thick crown was at her opening, a hot encroachment that held the attention of every cell within her body. She craved that intrusion with a strength that had her thighs shaking. Yet at the crest of that want came the memory of the last time she’d been invaded. The pain and degradation. She did not want that foul business tainting this act. If Jack could move past his darkness, so could she.
He knew her so well that he paused as if sensing her conflicting thoughts. A bead of sweat trickled down his temple. Braced above her, the muscles along his shoulders and arms twitched with restraint, but his eyes held hers, gentleness and understanding there. He eased back and then touched her temple, tenderly brushing back a lock of damp hair. “Is it because I’m on top of you?”
She gave a brusque nod, her throat closing painfully. In the silence he studied her. “You like it when I crowd you against a wall, though, don’t you?” It was a decadent whisper, filled with promise, and she shivered. Of course he knew she did. He’d scented her desire.
And, as if he scented it once more, a slow, playful smile pulled at his mouth. “Come.” Lightly he tugged at her hand, drawing her from the bed with a rustle of the covers. Mary was momentarily dumbfounded as he unfolded his long length and the firelight glowed upon his skin. He was massive, a study of flat, hard planes, long vistas of undulating muscle, networks of tight sinews. And his hot gaze roamed over her as though he might soon gobble her up.
Slowly he backed her up until her shoulders met the cool wall. Eyes on her, he leaned in, bracing his arms on either side of her, surrounding her with his warmth and power. She didn’t know why it was so, but she did not feel pinned but bolstered, protected. It shamed her that she had panicked before. “Jack, you don’t need to do this. We can lie down.”
“Shh.” Softly, he kissed her cheek. Then the other one. Moving with great care, he kissed his way down her neck, each tender press of his lips sending a little punch of heat into her flesh. His mouth found her nipple and gave it an open-mouthed kiss, lingering only long enough to make her arch off the wall before he moved on to the other one. Tease.
Mary closed her eyes, her breathing growing light and agitated as he knelt before her and his big hands closed over the swells of her hips. He leaned against her for a moment, his mouth against her breast, his breath warm and damp over her skin. And then he sat back on his heels, and his lips glided over her navel, brushing past her hipbone, his teeth gently grazing.
She knew where he was headed and what he wanted. Her sex throbbed with the knowledge. The sight of him before her, his dark head against her pale skin, nearly undid her. His hand eased down her thigh and beneath her knee. And she moved with him, languid and dazed, lifting her leg to hook over his shoulder. Exposed.
His expression was fierce as he looked at her, his chest rising and falling with greater urgency, and then he glanced up and their eyes met. He held her gaze as he leaned forward and licked her with the flat of his tongue. Slow and lazy. A strangled cry left her, and her legs wobbled. His grip tightened, his eyes on her as he did it again.
Pleasure rolled through her so hot and strong that her body tensed, her nipples tightening with a painful throb. “Jack.”
Green eyes glinted as he reached out and flicked her swollen bud with the tip of his tongue. A featherlight touch. Maddening. She canted her hips, chasing his touch, but he backed away, not giving her the satisfaction.
His breath against her wetness almost felt cool, and his voice grew rough. “I want to be in here, Mary.” His tongue probed her opening, dipping in just enough to make her quake. “Do you want me here?”
Mary panted, her throat burning. “Yes.” Now.
Smiling, the fiend kissed her, hot and deep. A reward. One that shot through her body. “Jack!”
He held her still, one hot, rough palm upon her belly and the other at her hip, pinning her, supporting her. Trusting that he had her, she sagged against the silk-lined wall.
“Bloody hell, that feels good,” she rasped. An understatement. Pleasure overwhelmed her. And she wanted more.
He grinned, slow and wide. “If we do it correctly, it will all feel good, love.” His smile faded, replaced by a look of hot intent. “Show yourself to me.” Taking her hand in his, he guided it down to her sex.
Oh, but he was wicked. Her breath came out in a pant, and her hand shook as she complied and opened the folds of her sex for his delectation. He growled low in approval. “Beautiful. You are beautiful, angel.” Then he kissed the center of her, a tender, reverent gesture that made her heart stutter and pulled a strangled sound from her throat.
His lashes fluttered, his expression languid as he kissed her in earnest, nipping, licking, and sucking, his tongue sliding over her fingers and along her slick flesh. And it was too much. Too much sensation. The wet sound of his mouth on her, the small, greedy noises he made, and the way he wholeheartedly came at her, as though she were his last meal. It was messy, real. Life. She could not hide from it. She no longer wanted to. All these years. She hadn’t realized it could be like this. She didn’t feel shamed or used. But adored.
Her skin flared hot, then cold, her nipples aching so badly that she grasped one breast and gave the distended tip a sharp tug. A bone-deep shake began at her hip, spreading outward.
Gently he slipped a finger into her, touching a spot that had her quaking. She moaned, wanting to get away from his marauding mouth and probing finger, yet wanting to get closer.
He heard the sound and glanced up, his eyes gleaming bright in the lamplight. “Oh no,” he said roughly. “The first time, we come together.”
She whimpered, so close to completion that she throbbed. But he was already moving, licking his way back up her heated skin, rising above her. And when he fully stood, her legs were locked around his trim waist and his hands were cupping her bottom. And he smiled, tenderly if not a bit unsteadily.
“This is me.” He pushed in, slow, thick, filling
her, not an invasion but a joining with her. At last. “And you.”
He rocked his hips, going in a bit deeper, and they both shivered. “This is us.” Then it was his gaze that faltered, a look of pleasure mixed with pain making his brows furrow. A low groan tore from him as he seated himself to the hilt. His body twitched as he began to pant, holding himself still. For her.
“Look at us, Merrily.”
And she did, where she was stretched wide, and he pulled back, a long, easy glide, the breadth of his thick cock glistening and ruddy. He thrust inside her, disappearing from sight. He filled her up, wide, dense, and complete.
Beneath her heavy lids, she looked at him. He was as undone as she, his eyes hot, his lips parted. She took advantage, capturing his mouth to kiss him, and her breasts slid against his damp chest. He responded immediately, the kiss turning rough, delicious. Her legs eased further open, cradling him as he thrust into her, a steady, strong movement that she savored.
Her body arched, pleasure and heat breaking in a garbled cry. “Jack”—she sucked in a breath—“I need…” She shivered, heat licking her skin, her body trembling.
“Tell me, love.” He nipped her shoulder, his breath fast but light as if he were restraining himself with effort. “Anything.”
“Don’t hold back.” She cupped his cheek and stared into his eyes. “Give me everything.” She needed it now, to feel him wild and free against her, to feel wild and free herself.
A low growl sounded in his throat as understanding lit in his eyes. Biting down on her neck, he turned them so that he leaned against the wall and she was balanced on his hips. Gripping her bottom hard, he lifted her high, nearly pulling her off him, and then slammed her back down, brutal and perfect. His expression intent, his muscles bulged as he worked her on his cock, moving her how he willed and controlling the pace. Mary clutched his shoulders, her nails digging in, and squeezed her inner walls.
“More,” she ground out. “More.”
On a curse Jack lurched forward. His elbow hit a vase, and it went tumbling with a crash. They stumbled back, her world tilting, before she landed on the bed, Jack still inside her and controlling the fall. “Yes?” he asked, wanting to know if she was all right. She managed a nod, touching his cheek in gratitude, and then he was thrusting hard and fast, deep grunts rumbling in his chest as he pumped. And the tight, relentless heat coiled within her again, demanding more.
Shadowdance: The Darkest London Series: Book 4 Page 31