After a moment’s thought, she nodded in agreement.
“Two small brandies and you’re as drunk as a lord.”
She smiled. “No, you’re the lord, milord. Milord Jack. Gorgeous, mouth-watering, lovely Lord Jack.”
“Lovely, am I?” he remarked with a chuckle. The sound soon turned to a groan. “Bloody hell,” he muttered under his breath. “I’m going to regret this, but it would just be wrong.”
“What would be wrong?”
Taking hold of her bodice, he gently covered up her exposed breasts. “This.” Leaning over, he combed his fingers through her hair again. “You should rest.”
“I am resting.”
“Sleep then.”
“But I’m not sleepy. Not anymore.”
“You will be soon enough. Close your eyes and relax.”
“Where will you be?”
He swallowed again, as though his decision was tearing him in two. “Close by. You have only to ring when you awaken.”
Her frown returned. “But I don’t want you to go. Don’t go, Jack. Stay with me.”
Suddenly she knew she meant every word. She didn’t want him to leave, and no matter what might happen, she would have no regrets. For in spite of all the warnings against him and the knowledge that his motives were undoubtedly dishonourable, she didn’t care. She’d trusted Terrence, and look where that had gotten her? For good or bad, she felt safe with Jack. She could count on him not to deceive her. With him, she knew who she was and where she stood—with no lies between them.
Unmindful of her loosened bodice, she sat up and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Stay.” Emboldened as she had never been before, she kissed his cheek, then his jaw.
“That’s the spirits talking,” he said in a strained voice.
She shook her head. “No. The spirits may have freed my tongue, but they haven’t put words in my mouth. I know what I’m saying.”
He pulled her away so she was forced to meet his gaze. “And do you know what you’re doing? What will happen if I stay? I’ll strip the rest of these clothes off you and lay you beneath me in this bed. I’ll take you the way a man takes a woman, and I won’t stop.”
“I don’t want you to stop.”
“Do you also realize this is my bedchamber and that I brought you here to seduce you? That I still plan to seduce you. Later. But right now, you’re foxed and I—”
She put her hand over his mouth. “Want this. Want you. I love you and that’s all that matters.”
She wasn’t sure which of them was the more surprised, but the instant she said the words, she knew they were true. She did love him—fully and deeply. Her indecisiveness this past week and her impromptu trip to Bristol had been nothing more than excuses to deny her real feelings. Even Terrence and her contemplation of marriage to him had been based on fear. Fear of herself. Fear of letting herself love Jack. Fear of letting herself take what she wanted most. But suddenly she wasn’t afraid any more.
“You love me,” he repeated in a measured tone.
She nodded. “You probably wish I hadn’t said it,” she continued, “but it’s how I feel. Please don’t think I expect anything in return.”
His jaw tightened, a fierce look in his eyes. “You should.”
“Just tell me you want me.”
“Of course, I want you. Considering these last couple weeks, how could you still be in doubt?”
“Then you’ll stay?”
He hesitated. “I shouldn’t, but how can I refuse now?”
Reassured, she lay back against the pillows. When she moved to unclothe herself for him again, he stopped her.
“Don’t,” he said in a throaty growl, catching her hand inside his own. “Let me.”
With his gaze holding hers prisoner, he peeled down her bodice, then reached out to touch one breast. His fingers circled, sliding rhythmically around a single taut peak. Ever so lightly, he pinched the sensitive nub, then released it, before beginning the leisurely progression all over again.
She couldn’t breathe as he toyed with her, her senses spinning wildly around her again. But her reaction had nothing to do with the alcohol this time. Trembling, she let him do whatever he wished, confident he would bring her nothing but exquisite pleasure. An acute ache rose between her thighs, a longing to be possessed that made her restless and needy.
Clasping a hand behind his head, she drew him down for a kiss. She expected him to meet her demand with wild, ravishing passion. Instead, his touch was unhurried, his moves tempered with a care that bordered on the reverent.
Slow and easy. Soft and gentle. His every caress made her melt, turning her insides as warm and slick as candle wax left out too long in the sun. His kisses were magical, weaving a spell around her—around them both—that left her no hope of escape.
Not that she had any wish to escape. Quite the opposite, since she was unable to keep herself from writhing beneath his caresses as he continued to shape and stroke her breasts, moving from one to the other with a thoroughness that verged on torment.
Swallowing a moan, she pressed herself more deeply against his palm, seeking more. He complied, breaking off their kiss so that he could slide down to take one of her breasts in his mouth.
Hot, wet heat engulfed her, his tongue like satin against her sensitive peak. Answering moisture gathered between her thighs as he suckled with an intensity that reached to her very core. Raking her with his teeth, he paused to suckle again, feasting upon her with long, slow licks that were punctuated by intense, mind-spinning draws. She quivered and threaded her fingers into his hair to cradle him closer.
She felt his lips curve into a smile as he transferred his ministrations to her other breast. Not stinting in the least, he lavished her willing flesh with the same degree of blissful attention. At length, he slowed, drawing upon her with a last, lingering pull before levering himself away.
Instantly, she was bereft and reached to bring him back.
But she needn’t have worried, his broad, skilful hands moving to peel away her gown, stays, and petticoats with calm, simple efficiency. Once he was done, her stockings and lacy garters were all that remained to shield her from his view—leaving her with absolutely no protection at all.
His azure eyes gleamed, turning an even more intense shade of blue, as he raked her with his gaze. Surveying her body in a leisurely downward sweep, he studied every inch of her form. When he reached the spot where her fiery triangle of curls met the apex of her thighs, he paused before continuing his amorous perusal all the way down to her feet.
Abruptly, she became self-conscious, lowering her arms across her body and bending her knees in a concealing half-curl.
“Ah, sweetheart, don’t turn shy on me now,” he admonished in a mild tone. “I assure you, you have absolutely nothing to hide. Quite the contrary, in point of fact.”
Laying a palm on her stocking-clad ankle, he roved upward with a light, tensile glide. “I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve dreamed of seeing these legs.”
Her eyes widened. “You have?”
“Oh, yes. I’ve fantasized endlessly, dying to know just how shapely they are and exactly how far up they go.” Reaching the bare strip of skin above her silken garter, he stopped and smiled. “I am overjoyed to note that they do go up—way, way up. You are gorgeous, even more so than I expected.”
Her lips quivered on a tremulous breath. “So, you’re pleased?”
Something darkened in his gaze. “Yes, very much. Now let me please you in return.”
She didn’t know precisely what he intended, but he moved quickly to demonstrate by sliding his hand sideways. Warm as toast, and darker-hued than her own pale white skin, his strong fingers spread outward against the delicate flesh of her inner thighs. The sight of him touching her there was dramatic—a powerful contrast of male to female. But because she still had her legs locked together, he could go no farther. Ever so gently, he traced the seam between her thighs.
“Open up,�
� he murmured.
Her pulse sprang into a frantic rhythm.
“Open your legs, Grace. I promise you won’t be sorry.”
She hesitated, her heart pounding like a relentless fist beneath her breasts. Slowly, aware she was literally laying herself bare to him, she did as he asked.
His lips curved with approval. “God, you’re lovely. Now, just a little more.”
More?
She didn’t think she could manage. But somehow she found the courage. Emboldened once again by the carnal appreciation she saw in his gaze, she spread her legs wider.
And then he touched her there.
She gasped, her eyes falling shut at the devastating sensation of his fingertips teasing her nether curls. Stroking her with light, glancing touches, he delved beyond, gliding along her sleek folds as he gradually explored.
She grew wet in a way that ought to have mortified her. But Jack appeared to find nothing amiss, so why should she? If anything, her body seemed eager to aid him, his fingers rubbing with a slippery friction that made her thoughts scatter to the four winds.
Then she couldn’t speak or think at all, her hands bunching in the fabric of the counterpane, as pleasure wove through her like the tendrils of a wild, rapacious vine. He speared a single finger into her, making her shudder and arch.
She bit her lip to keep from crying out, but he wouldn’t let her stay silent.
“Do you like this. Yes?” he coaxed.
“Y-yes.”
“Tell me where to touch you next.”
But she couldn’t speak, rolling her head on the pillows instead.
“Here?” His thumb circled in a lazy glide. “Or perhaps you prefer this spot?”
“Oohh,” she gasped aloud, perspiration breaking out over her skin.
“What about now?” He added a second finger, filling her more than she thought she could stand. Yet it felt right. Exactly right. She groaned, craving more.
“Maybe this.”
He slid higher to caress some hidden nub of flesh. Need swamped her, burning like a raging fire.
Relentless, he scissored his fingers inside her. Open, then closed, then open again. “Shall I stop?”
“No!” she sobbed, abandoning all caution or control.
Then suddenly he did everything at once—circling and scissoring and rubbing. The combination proved too much, bliss crashing over her in a dark, merciless wave.
Her senses went flying, whirling as thoughts and emotions tumbled through her with an intensity that made her earlier intoxication seem as nothing. She felt drunk. Drunk and delirious, glowing from a surfeit of delight that was humming like bottled lightning in her system.
Good God, she thought, no wonder women beg to be in his bed. No wonder they’re willing to risk everything for even a taste of this. Of him.
She barely had a chance to catch her breath before he began again, caressing her with a deep, intimate massage that instantly ignited her desire. Need swamped her, building so fast it was all she could do to hang on and hope she didn’t shatter before he brought her to release again. She was poised on the edge, held in the grip of a hunger so strong she was shaking from the force of it.
Then, with no warning at all, he stopped and moved away. For a second, his withdrawal made no sense, her body throbbing with a savage intensity that demanded satisfaction. “Jack?” she called, rising up slightly on her elbows. “What are you doing?”
“Disrobing,” he told her as he climbed from the bed. “Not to worry. I will be back to pleasure you in a trice.”
“You’d better be,” she said without considering her words.
He chuckled at her candour, his nimble fingers moving to open the buttons on his waistcoat, shirt and pantaloons.
She watched him with brazen interest, reclining against the pillows as he revealed inch by delicious inch of hard masculine flesh. The sight of him made her giddy. He was better than any Grecian sculpture she’d ever seen—long and tall where he should be, broad across the shoulders, but equally narrow at the hips. Muscles flexed beneath his superb physique, powerful bone and sinew covered by taut, supple skin. A dusting of short dark hair grew on his powerful legs and across his elegant forearms. His chest was covered by a heavier thatch of nearly black hair. A line of it tapered downward across his flat stomach, then all but disappeared, before flaring out again around his groin.
It was this last part of him that fixed her attention most completely. From the instant he stripped off his pantaloons and drawers, she couldn’t look away. Without conscious awareness, she riveted her gaze on his swollen shaft, taking note of its rampant length and girth. He paused for a few moments—hands on his hips as if he were letting her study him.
“You don’t look anything like Terrence,” she said, not realizing she’d said the words aloud until they were already out of her mouth.
He quirked a brow. “I believe I shall take that as a compliment.”
She nodded in agreement, marvelling at the fact that until today she had never even seen a naked man—much less three of them. But then she had no more time to ponder such matters as Jack padded forward on bare feet.
Her nipples stiffened to hard points, need throbbing inside her with a wrenching ache as he bent a knee upon the bed and came down beside her. He took her in his arms, making her tremble at the hot slide of his naked skin against hers.
“You’ll have to show me what to do,” she whispered, shy once more as she met his gaze.
“Don’t worry.” His lips brushed lightly across hers. “We’ll take everything as slowly as you need.”
Reassured, she curved her arms around his neck and gladly gave herself up to his kiss. He claimed her mouth in a languid joining that was as sultry as it was sublime, her nerve endings igniting like kindling set to a flame once again.
His hands resumed their earlier wandering, each caress heightening her passion, every stroke leaving her hungering for more. Something hard and insistent pressed against her stomach. With surprise, she realized it must be his erection.
Stroking a palm over his shoulder and back, she slid gradually downward, growing bold enough to roam as far as his waist. But she couldn’t muster the courage to go lower, her fingers flexing ineffectually against his hip.
“You can touch me if you like,” he said, breaking off their kiss to nuzzle the underside of her ear. His tongue darted out, lapping at a spot that sent quivers whizzing through her system like champagne bubbles gone out of control. “Touch me anywhere, Grace,” he encouraged in a husky tone. “Let those hands of yours run wild.”
Emboldened, she skimmed her fingers across his buttocks, feeling the muscles clench in response, then onward to the top of his thigh, finding it just a bit rough with hair. Then, before she had time to talk herself out of the impulse, she reached for his shaft and encircled him with her fingers.
A harsh groan issued from his throat.
She stiffened and began to withdraw, but he stopped her with a hand, forcing her fingers to stay where they were. “Stroke me,” he said. “Please.”
Trembling, she hesitated just a moment more, then did as he wished.
The feel of him was astonishing, hard and thick, yet covered with a skin as sleek and smooth as velvet. She glided up his length, then down, pausing at the last to brush a curious thumb across the tip. His shaft jumped in her palm, Jack releasing another throaty moan.
“Harder,” he said. “Stroke me harder.”
And she did, caressing him with increasing confidence while he massaged her breasts and took her mouth in a savage kiss. As she opened her lips wide, he slid his tongue inside, licking and lapping, then thrusting in and out in time to the movements of her hand.
He kissed her until she was dizzy, her grip gradually weakening on him as he drowned her in a tide of pleasure. Rolling her to her back, he used his knees to spread her legs apart and fit himself between. Crushing her lips to his, he moved her hand away, then positioned himself and thrust inside her body.
“Give it a few moments. It’ll get easier,” he murmured.
Will it? She wondered, rather doubting his words. He was large, her body gripping him like a too-tight glove.
Then he began to move again.
Her panic increased when she realized he was barely inside her, despite the agonizing sensation of fullness. She remained motionless, her pain intensifying as he forced himself deeper inside.
Finally, he was all the way in.
Only then did she sense the tension in him, his muscles quivering from the strain of holding himself back. A hand on the back of her thigh urged her to lift her legs and wrap them around his waist. She did, the shift in position lodging him even deeper. Yet oddly enough, her discomfort lessened, the pain receding as her body adjusted to his penetration.
How peculiar, she thought, to have that part of him inside her. How incredibly close. Intimate in a way she had never truly imagined two people could be.
Slowly, he began to thrust, and her thoughts drifted away like tufts of dandelion fluff caught in a rough wind.
“Better?” he questioned in a gravelly voice.
Reaching up, she captured his mouth in a fervid kiss and gave him all the answer he needed.
In and out he went. In and out, over and over again until sparks of her earlier desire began to rekindle. He kissed her—long, wet, open-mouthed kisses that stole her breath, even as the vigorous movements of his hips turned her liquid and wanton with need.
She cried out, only this time not in pain, but in longing. Digging her heels into his buttocks, she urged him onward, clasping him to her with a sudden desperation she was helpless to resist.
Arching, she bounded upward to meet him, to take him as far and fast as her body would allow. Keening sounds came from her mouth, moans she barely recognized as her own as she gripped him harder. She remembered him saying something once about liking to ride, and suddenly she knew what he’d meant.
Seduced By His Touch Page 11