by Lori Foster
With his mouth he nuzzled aside her blouse and tasted the swell of her breast, then moved lower, drawing nearer and nearer to her straining nipple. His progress was deliberately, agonizingly slow.
Using only the edge of his hand, he plumped her flesh, pushing her breast up for his mouth, for his lips and tongue and teeth. He kissed each pale freckle, touched them with his tongue. Josie squirmed, urging him to hurry, but he knew the anticipation would only build until they were both raw with need.
“Please…” she begged, and the broken rasp of her voice made him shudder.
“Shhh. There’s no hurry,” he whispered, and to appease her just a bit, his thumb came up to tease her stiffened nipple through her bra, plying it, rolling it with the gentlest of touches. Her back arched and her fingers twisted in his hair. He winced, both with the sting of her enthusiasm and his own answering excitement. The tip of his tongue dipped low, moving along the very edge of her lace bra, close to her nipple, but not quite touching.
“Bob.”
“No!” He lifted his head, kissing her again, hard and quick. “Shush, Josie. You can moan for me, curse me or beg me. But otherwise, no talking.”
“But…”
Through the thin fabric of her blouse and lace bra, he caught her nipple between his fingers and pinched lightly, feeling her tremble and jerk and pant. Her response was incredible, as hot as his own, and it had never been this way before. He tugged, his mouth again on her throat, lightly sucking her skin against his teeth, giving her a dual assault. She cried out, and the interior of the small cabin filled with the begging words he wanted to hear.
“Oh, please…”
It was a simple thing to ease her backward on the berth until she was stretched out before him. Knowing she lay there, his, waiting and wanting him, was enough to make him come close to embarrassing himself. The possessiveness was absurd, but undeniable, even after such a short acquaintance. Looking at her, his hunger was completely understandable. His erection strained against his jeans, full and hot and heavy, pulsing with his every heartbeat.
His fingers stroked over her cheek. “Be still just a moment.”
He fumbled behind him, looking for the small lantern they used for fishing. He wanted to see her, but he didn’t want harsh light intruding on their intimacy or maybe bringing on a shyness she hadn’t exhibited so far. As he lit the lamp and turned the flame down low, the soft glow spread out around the cabin, not reaching the corners, but illuminating her body in select places—the rise of a breast, the roundness of a thigh, a high cheekbone and the gentle slant of a narrow nose. Those wide, needy eyes. Nick dragged in another deep breath to steady himself, but it didn’t help.
Never had he seen a woman looking more excited, or more inviting. Her hands lay open beside her head, palms up, her slender fingers curled. She watched him, her eyes heavy and sensual and filled with anticipation. One leg was bent at the knee which had forced her skirt high—high enough that he could just see the pale sheen of satiny panties.
Nick stood, then jerked his shirt over his head. His gaze never left her, and as she looked him over, taking in every inch of his chest, he smiled. Her eyes lingered on places, so hot he could almost feel their touch, and her body moved, small moves, hungry moves. Impatient moves.
Guilt over his lies filled him, but he knew he’d do the same again. He’d do whatever was necessary to get to this moment, to have Josie Jackson—such a surprise—watching him in just that way, waiting for him.
Susan Jackson could think whatever she wanted, as long as Josie accepted him.
The shoes came off next, then his socks. He unsnapped his jeans and eased his zipper down just enough to give some relief. His eyes closed as he felt his erection loosened from the tight restraint. He took a moment to gather his control.
“What about your pants?”
The throatiness of her voice, the rise and fall of her breasts, proved how impatient she was becoming.
Lowering himself to sit on the edge of the cot again, he smiled and touched the tip of her upturned nose. He wanted to gather her close and just hold her; he wanted to be inside her right this second, driving toward a blinding release. The conflicting emotions wreaked havoc with his libido and made his hands tremble.
“Fair’s fair. You have some catching up to do.”
He leaned down, bracing himself with an elbow beside her head while his free hand began undoing the tiny buttons of her blouse. He kissed her again, soft teasing kisses that he knew made her want more. But he wouldn’t give her his tongue, just skimming her lips and nipping with his teeth while she strained toward him. When she reached for him, he caught her wrists and pinned them above her head. “Relax, Josie.”
A strangled sound escaped her. “Relax? Right now?”
His chuckle was pure male gratification. “You said you wanted some fun, some excitement. Will you trust me?”
“To do what?” Rather than sounding suspicious or concerned, she sounded breathless with anticipation.
Her blouse lay open and he pulled it from her skirt to spread it wide, exposing her lace bra, which did nothing to hide her erect little nipples. He couldn’t pull his gaze away from them. “To give you as much pleasure as you can possibly stand.” As he spoke, he carefully closed his teeth around one tight, sensitive tip, biting very gently, then tugging enough to make her back arch high and her breath come out in a strained cry.
“You have sensitive breasts.” He shuddered in his own response.
“Please…”
Licking until her bra was damp over both nipples, making them painfully tight, knowing how badly she needed him, he showed her just how much pleasure she could expect and the extent of his patience in such things. He loved giving pleasure to a woman, loved being the one in complete control, but never before had it been so important. This time wasn’t just to make being together enjoyable, but to tie her to him, to make her need him and what he could do for her. Only him. He had to build a craving in her—a craving that only he could satisfy.
He had to believe this explosive chemistry was as new for her as it was for him. Knowing women as well as he did, her inexperience was plain. She hadn’t touched him other than to desperately clutch his shoulders or his neck when she needed an anchor. And her surprise had, several times now, showed itself when he’d petted her in a particularly pleasurable place. Thinking of all the places he intended to touch her tested his control.
He caught her shoulder and turned her onto her stomach. Lifting her head, she peered at him over her shoulder, but he only grinned and began sliding down the zipper that ran the length of her skirt. The skirt was still tight, hugging her rounded bottom and distracting him enough that he stopped to knead that firm flesh, filling his hands with her and hearing her soft groan. He bent and kissed the back of her knee through her nylons. She squirmed again, her body moving in sexy little turns against the berth.
His mouth inched higher, bringing forth a moan. She buried her face in a pillow, her hands fisting on either side of the pillowcase.
She’d worn stockings, fastened with a narrow garter belt. He loved stockings.
Such a little flirt, he thought, forcing away all other musings because he didn’t want to get trapped in his own emotional notions. Using two fingers, he unhooked a stocking and moved it aside so he could taste soft, hot flesh. Her thighs were firm, silky smooth, now opening slightly as he nuzzled against her.
“Bob…”
He gripped her skirt and yanked it down. She squeaked, and buried her head deeper into the pillow. The silky panties slid over her skin as he caressed her rounded buttocks, then between, his fingers dipping low, feeling her dampness, the unbelievable heat, her excitement. His heartbeat thundered and he retreated, afraid he’d lose himself in the knowledge she was ready. For him.
He kissed her nape, down her spine. The bra unlatched and he pulled her arms free, then turned her again.
Even in the darkness he could see her crimson cheeks, and the way she hel
d the bra secure against her breasts gave him pause. Josie wouldn’t know how to use her body to get her way. She had no notion of the power women tried to wield over men; everything she felt was sincere. His hands shook.
In no way did he want to rush her, or coerce her into doing anything she didn’t want. Her body might be ready for him, but emotionally she was still dealing with the unseemly rush of their attraction.
Stretching out beside her, he pulled her into his arms and simply held her, stroking her hair and back. He wanted to give her time to understand what was happening, to accept it. She needed to know he would never force her into anything, that she could call a halt at any time—even though it might kill him.
So he held her, passively, patiently. But he couldn’t control the pounding of his heart beneath her cheek, or his uneven breaths, or the tightness of his straining muscles as his whole body rebelled against the delay.
“What…what’s wrong?”
He sighed. For whatever reason, she had planned this. There was no other explanation for the way she’d come on to him, her verbal innuendoes, her willingness to come to the boat with him. But she was also very unsure of herself—amazing considering her natural sensuality and her allure, how completely she responded to his every touch.
He took her small hand and flattened it on his chest, holding it there. “Josie, are you certain you want to do this?”
She reared up, staring at him with something close to horror. “Don’t you?”
The laugh emerged without his permission. Her innocence delighted him. “Honey, I think I’d give up breathing to stay in this boat for a week, loving you day and night—and twice in the afternoons.” He touched her face, tracing her brows and the delicate line of her jaw. “But I don’t want you to do anything that bothers you. There’s no hurry, you know. If you’d rather…”
She frowned and said with some acerbity, “I’d rather you not torture me by stopping now.” Then, after a second of lip-biting, she released the bra and it fell to the bed.
Nick halted in midbreath. Damn, but she had pretty breasts. Full and soft and white. He didn’t move, but he forced his gaze from her luscious breasts to her face. “What do you want, Josie?”
“I want…” Pink spread from her cheeks to her breasts, and he half expected her to shy away once more. Instead she said, “I want you to kiss me again.”
Very softly, in a mere whisper, he asked, “Where?”
Her nipples were pointed, pink, tempting him. Already he could almost taste them on his tongue. When her hand lifted, hovered, then touched exactly where he wanted his mouth to be, he groaned. “Come here.”
He stayed perfectly still, leaving it to her to make the next move—a small salve to his conscience for being so manipulative. But he did open his mouth, his gaze on her breast, and with a small sound of excitement she leaned over him.
Her nipple brushed his lips, and he lifted a hand to guide her, to keep her close while he enclosed her in the heat of his mouth and suckled softly. Her arms trembled as she balanced above him, and her harsh breathing, interspersed with moans, made his jeans much too tight and confining. He felt ready to burst. Her pelvis bumped the side of his hip, then again, more deliberately, pressing and lingering. She pushed her heat against him, trying to find some relief, and he groaned.
His patience, his control, were severely strained by the taste of her and her generous reaction to him. Only the sure knowledge that this had to be perfect, that she had to believe they were magic together, kept him from losing control.
He slid both hands into her panties and dragged them down her legs while he switched to give equal attention to her other breast. With slow, unintrusive movements, he stripped her, never interrupting his ministrations to her body. When she was finally naked, he shifted to put her beneath him, then shucked off his jeans. Holding her gaze, he led her hand to his erection and guided her fingers around him, silently instructing her to hold him—hard. She whimpered and he cupped his hand over her mound, only stroking her, tangling his fingers in her tight curls, his explorations soft and soothing.
Her movements were clumsy, but so damn exciting, he couldn’t bear it. Especially with her expression so dazed, so dreamy, locked to his, letting him feel everything she felt, letting him touch her in ways no other woman ever had. It added unbearably to the physical excitement.
He couldn’t take it. Her scent filled him and he pressed his face into her throat, his mouth open, her skin hot. She reluctantly released him when he moved down in the bed, trailing damp kisses over her breasts, her ribs and abdomen, her slightly rounded, sexy little belly. Then to where his fingers teased over hot, damp feminine flesh.
“No!”
“Yes.” Never had he wanted anything as much as he wanted to know all of her. Her scent, powder fresh and woman tangy, was a mixture guaranteed to make him crazed. He kissed her, holding her thighs wide and groaning with the excitement of it, with the taste of her. She was deliciously wet, softly swelled, and he groaned again, his tongue delving deep, his open mouth pressed hard against her. Her hips shot upward and she cried out. Pressing one hand to her belly, he held her still and continued. With each thrust and lick of his tongue, she shuddered and wept, begged and cursed. Knowing his control to be at an end, he closed his mouth around her tiny bud and suckled sweetly, his tongue rasping, and two fingers gently pushed deep inside her.
He felt the contractions build, and he reveled in it, using every ounce of his experience to see that her orgasm was full and explosive. He’d never heard a woman cry so hard, or be so natural about her response, without reserve, without pretense, raw and intense and so very real. It fired his own imminent climax, and he pressed his erection hard into the berth’s mattress as he rode along on her pleasure. When she quieted, spent and limp, her legs still sprawled open to prod his excitement, he had only seconds to locate a condom from his discarded jeans and enter her before he knew he’d be lost.
His thrust was deep and strong, and froze him. With a small, weak cry, her body stiffened in shock, and he stared at her, not sure he wanted to believe the unbelievable. She was twenty-five. She was gorgeous and sexy and so responsive, she could make a man nuts. His pulse went wild. “Josie?”
Her body shuddered and he felt the movement all through him, making him squeeze his eyes shut tight.
She took several deep breaths before saying, “I—I’m okay.”
He pressed his forehead to hers, straining for control, trying to keep his hips perfectly still, his tone soft and calm. “You’re a virgin?”
“I…was. Yes.”
But not anymore. Now she was his. His heart thundered with the implications, ringing in his ears, making his blood surge with primitive satisfaction. But his brain couldn’t decipher a damn thing, couldn’t even begin to sort through it all. Discussions would have to wait until later; his body took over without his mind’s consent.
Very slowly, measuring the depth of his stroke against the smallness of her body, he thrust, his lower body pulling tight as he pushed into her. Josie arched again and groaned around her tears.
His second slow thrust had her crying out—in startled pleasure. A third, and she wrapped around him and continued to hold him tight while he growled out his release, pressing himself deep inside her, becoming a part of her, making her a part of him. When finally he collapsed over her, she squeezed his neck and kissed his ear, his temple. Her breath was gentle against his heated skin. He shuddered with a fresh wash of unfamiliar, unsettling sensation, something entirely too close to tenderness.
After several minutes had passed and they could both breathe again, she stirred and whispered against his ear, “You are the most incredible man I’ve ever met.”
The wonder was there in her tone, nearing awe. He started to smile, wanting to echo her words, wanting to kiss her again, to start all over. She was special, and she needed to know that, needed to know that somehow they’d been destined to meet, destined to be here, locked together in just thi
s way, with him a part of her. He was thirty-two years old, and in his entire lifetime, never had a woman made him feel this way, hungry and tender and touched to his very soul by her presence. It should have scared him, but it didn’t. Not yet.
She’d given him a precious gift, not just her virginity, which was a rare thing indeed, but her honesty, her openness. She went against everything he believed, every truism he’d ever taught himself over the years through endless empty relationships. Holding her left him…content. What he felt was somehow special; he knew that instinctively. He needed to make her understand it, too.
But then she smoothed her hand over his hair and kissed his shoulder, and added in a shy whisper, “Thank you, Bob,” and he felt reality smack him hard in the head.
Damn, maybe the time for explaining had finally come, because he didn’t think he could bear one second more of hearing her call him by another man’s name, not after what they’d shared, not after he’d concluded they were meant for this night—and many more nights like it. And what better way to ensure she listen to him, that she give him a chance to reason with her, than to keep her just like this, warm and soft and spent beneath him.
He leaned up and saw her small smile, the glow in her eyes, the flush of her cheeks. The need to kiss her soft lips was intense, but he held back, knowing his responsibility now. “Josie—”
She lifted her hips, causing an instant, unbelievable reaction. He should have been near death, should have been limp as a lily in the rain, but it took only one small suggestive squirm from her and he was back to the point of oblivion, of not caring about anything but her small body and the way she held him. Her hands, having been idle before, now dug into his buttocks, keeping him a part of her, urging him deeper, and she smiled. “Do you think we could…start all over? I’m afraid I might have missed a few things the first time around.”