Their eyes held as they climaxed together, and Jamie saw clearly that it was true. Beckwith had been right about at least one thing. As they locked gazes and gave each other that ultimate pleasure, Jack’s blue eyes sank into hers, and he touched her soul.
Not to mention her G-spot. He was hitting that dead on.
And no man had ever touched either of those private places.
Two hours later, Jack told himself to take it slow this time.
If shoving his tongue down her throat and gripping her breasts like they’d float off without his hands acting as gravity could be considered taking it slow.
With a hell of a lot of effort, he pulled back.
He shouldn’t want her again like this so soon—should give the poor girl a break. He had told himself they would eat an early brunch together, then he’d take her home, let her sleep for a few hours. Catch a few winks himself.
But that was all before Jamie had sat down diagonally from him at the table and proceeded to eat Chinese noodles in the most erotic manner he’d ever seen in his life. All that sucking and tugging and licking had him shifting in his chair, barely tasting his own food.
And when she had closed her eyes in ecstasy over a spoonful of Ben & Jerry’s Phish Food ice cream, he had lost it.
He’d attacked her again.
Jamie was breathing hard, her eyes wide, curls tumbling all over the place as she held her spoon slackly and stared up at him. She was wearing his T-shirt, which hung loose everywhere except her chest, her breasts straining against the cotton. The red cashmere blanket from his bed was cuddled around her legs.
She looked like such a nice girl, but the way she licked that spoon screamed naughty, naughty things to him.
“If you wanted a taste of my ice cream, all you had to do was ask,” she said, eyes wide in mock innocence.
“Very funny.”
Her chest jiggled as she laughed. Since his hand had barely moved back an inch, he was able to reach out and enjoy the movement. Give her nipple a little pinch.
The sound she made was a cross between a whimper and a squeak. He took it as a good thing.
“Jamie,” he said, trying to find some way to express himself beyond his obvious drooling in her presence. “I want you again.”
Okay, that was a stupid thing to say. Like she couldn’t figure out where he was going with the tongue diving. But his brain was like mud. And he didn’t know any poetry, which seemed appropriate to the occasion.
Yet despite his lame attempts at seduction, she did the most amazing thing.
She stood up, blanket around her waist, ice cream abandoned, and said, “Take me again. Please.”
Oh, yeah. Jack stood up, sending his own chair crashing to the floor. He leaned forward and kissed her hard, trying to stay in control. It didn’t work. Control no longer existed in his vocabulary. Just scratched right out. Gone. Especially when she kissed him back, her fingers moving over the front of his shorts.
As she found his cock and gave him a squeeze, he reflected that this felt so damn right. That this could be something damn special. That maybe Jamie was exactly the kind of woman who could help him make sense out of his life, give him a quiet place to rest where he wasn’t competing with someone or something, where he wasn’t bored and restless.
“Share your ice cream with me,” he murmured, nipping at her ear.
“I’d be happy to. I have plenty,” she whispered.
Jack wasn’t talking about dessert, and he didn’t think Jamie was either. He knew he was going to take her again, right here in this chair. Knew he was going to carry her to his bed and keep her there all day. Knew that if she was agreeable, he’d have her back in his bed that night for another round of naked hide-and-seek.
The base of her palm was moving up and down on him as he kissed her neck. She smelled so good, tasted so delicious that he wanted to lap her up. They were way too far apart, the corner of the table preventing full body contact.
Jack stepped around the table, holding a hand out for her. “Come here.” He was well aware that he had burst out of his boxers and was reaching for the sky. An urgent desperation had him stalking her when she didn’t immediately come forward.
He was probably acting like an ass, but blame it on the noodles. All that slurping and sucking and licking. His reaction was only natural.
One of the things he appreciated about Jamie was her exuberance, her cheerfulness. She displayed those wonderful qualities by giving him a nervous, but excited smile and peeling her panties down her legs. As she dropped them on her chair with a half turn, Jack got a blissful shot of Jamie’s backside, before she straightened back up.
“Thought those might get in the way of the taking.”
“Smart woman,” he managed to spit out in a growl before he erased the space between them and slammed her body against his.
Jamie barely had a second to enjoy the shocked arousal on Jack’s face before he had her pressed against him, his one hand cupping her backside, the other caressing across her bottom lip.
Then he pushed a finger into her mouth at the same time he used his other hand to slip two fingers inside her. He moved them all with the same rhythm, a hot push, mimicking sex, her cheeks sucking in automatically, tongue flickering over his flesh. It was invasive, erotic, the press of his index finger into her mouth. There was no taste, just hard flesh pressing into hot moisture, an echo of what was happening between her legs.
Plunge and stroke, here and there, until Jamie moved her head, shifted her hips, wiggling in ecstasy, wanting more, wanting away, wanting fingers gone and Jack’s cock to replace them. In her mouth and between her legs.
She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, was desperate…then he touched her sensitive nipple with a nice long lave with his tongue. She broke, biting down on his finger reflexively as she came with a hard spasm.
Jack made a little hiss—that sounded like approval—so Jamie clamped down and held on with her teeth as she rode the shuddering crest to its end. It was quick, but powerful, intense, ripping all the way through her until it reached its trembling conclusion. Hands relaxing at her sides, she pulled her head back and released his finger, sagging in satisfaction. Her heart was thumping like a drum again, loud and furious.
“Well, now, that was…oh!” Jamie gasped when Jack pulled her forward and swiveled her around. Given that she was still punch-drunk from an orgasm, she had no sense of space and balance and went tumbling in the direction he urged her.
She caught herself on the slipcovered chair she’d just been sitting in eating her Chinese food. While her breasts bounced toward her chin, and her butt automatically shot up in the air as she gripped the seat, she saw where he was going with this.
It was confirmed when Jack gripped her thighs and yanked them apart.
Hello. This couldn’t possibly work. Or maybe it could, but she wasn’t mentally prepared for this. It was a bit too exposed for her taste, a bit too Kama Sutra for Jamie Lynn. Was she supposed to lock her knees or bend them? No, that was completely weird…
Panicking, she heard the rustle as he dispensed with his boxers, and Jamie struggled to right herself out of this particular angle. Stuck for the moment, since he’d come up behind her and blocked her in, she glanced over her shoulder. He was rolling on a condom. Where had that come from? Geez Louise, she wasn’t good at this spontaneous, raw thing.
“Um, Jack?” She licked her lips and gave a tentative hip wiggle to encourage him to release her. “I’m not so sure that this—”
His answer was to grab her thighs and plunge inside her with his hard erection. Jamie held on to the chair and gasped in pleasure, enjoying the full fit of him, the tingling aftershocks of her still swollen folds.
“Yes, Jamie?”
“Nothing…I was just going to suggest this might not work.”
He pulled back, pushed in.
“But it clearly does.”
And it felt shockingly good. He was sliding along her flesh, coaxing sensat
ion the whole way, her body rippling with pleasure. There wasn’t anything pretty about this position—at least she couldn’t imagine what he was seeing was pretty. There was nothing elegant or gentle about this urgent late morning mating, but it was that very rawness that made it so intimate. Jamie saw and felt vulnerability in Jack’s strong pushes, the way he gripped her thighs so hard her flesh pinched. She felt the same vulnerability, the same feeling of walking on uneven ground. She didn’t understand her body’s reaction to him, didn’t understand the emotions that were swirling around inside her.
Nothing, with any man before, had ever been anything like this.
Maybe that was the power of sex for sex’s sake. It allowed a pure selfish enjoyment.
But Jamie knew this wasn’t just sex. Not for her anyway. She had meant it when she said she didn’t go around sleeping with men she’d just met.
Which didn’t explain exactly how she’d come to be bent over a kitchen chair with her legs spread and Jack deep inside of her.
Thoughts skittering here, there, and everywhere, she dug her nails into the cotton slipcover and kicked her doubts to the curb. She wanted to enjoy this, just feel it.
He didn’t make any sound as he moved, but Jamie couldn’t prevent small moans from slipping out of her mouth. The hot friction sent jolts through her, and the elemental need between them, all niceties stripped away, was just as big of a turn-on as his actual actions.
Jack came with a silent shudder, pausing before one last convulsive shove.
“Yes,” she whispered, as he poured himself into her, letting go, giving it all to her. She felt powerful in that moment, a woman who shattered a man.
It was raw, and she was taking it. Jamie clenched her inner muscles and held on for the ride.
Chapter 7
Jack nearly bit his tongue off. Here he was, recklessly ripping off an orgasm three minutes into sex, and she had done that girl thing. That mysterious thing where she sort of squeezed herself around his cock and pumped more pleasure than he ever could have thought possible from him.
Teeth clenched so tight he nearly cracked a filling, Jack was scrambling to regain control of himself even before the last rippling shudder tore through him.
“Damn.” He sucked in a breath. “Damn. Shit. Damn, damn, damn.”
Jamie was hanging on to that chair for dear life, her hair tumbling down her back. Her tight, lush ass rose before him, his cock buried between her thighs, T-shirt bunched around her waist. It was a hot, hot shot, but he wasn’t sure that totally explained the way he’d gone at her.
And he wasn’t finished yet.
But her back was probably going to snap any second now.
With rubbery arms, he shifted out of her, then hauled her upright, kissing the backside of her shoulder.
“Mmm,” she said, wiggling her hips against him.
Jack closed his eyes, caught his breath. Swallowed hard. “Keep doing that and we’ll be starting all over again.”
“Really?” she asked, with a wicked little laugh.
Jamie sounded so intrigued Jack felt a little kick of renewed lust, a little jump from his unit. He wouldn’t have thought it possible, but hell, Jamie did all kinds of amazing things to his libido.
“Turn around, please. I want to see you.” He turned her at the waist, yanked off her shirt, and when her breasts and her face came into his view, Jack touched her hair, tucked it behind an ear. She was smiling at him, looking satisfied and naughty, and he was shocked by what he felt for her. The frightening deep, dark depth of emotion.
“Wrap your legs around me. Please.” He wanted her closer, right against him, in his arms.
Without hesitation, she lifted her legs and wrapped them around him, pressing her wet mound against his belly, full breasts against his chest. Jack closed his eyes for a split second as he held her.
Longing nearly shattered him. She felt…perfect in his arms. A soft, warm woman. His woman.
Jamie’s hair tickled his shoulder as she ran her lips over his jaw. Goose bumps rose on her skin, and she gave a light shiver.
With a soft laugh, she explained, “Air-conditioning. It makes me cold.”
Personally, he felt like a five-alarm fire had nothing on him, but he didn’t want her uncomfortable.
“Let’s go to the couch.” He swiped the red blanket from the chair before walking awkwardly to the sofa, dropping Jamie down onto it.
She reached for the blanket, arranged it over her.
Unrolling the condom, Jack walked to his windows and yanked down his shades. It was before lunch on a Saturday, but who knew what people could see through these windows, depending on which way the sun hit. He dropped the condom in the wastebasket next to his desk. When he turned back, he saw Jamie had tightened the blanket over her so it clung to her curves like linen on a mummy.
Much better than a lumpy draping of the blanket that would hide all of her. Lust kicked him in the gut, surprise, surprise. “You did that on purpose, didn’t you?”
“What?” she asked in an innocent little tone that didn’t fool him. “Are you accusing me of something?”
The twang turned up in her voice, and it hardened him even further. Jack went on his knees next to the couch and cupped the outline of her mound with his hand. She gave a startled little sound, laced with approval.
He said, “You covered it up, but in a way that would still show everything to me. I appreciate your thoughtfulness.” Then he jerked the blanket off of her feet and ankles. Shoved it up toward her chin. “Don’t want you to get cold, cutie.”
She should have looked vulnerable, lying there on her back, visibly naked from the thighs down, blanket shoved up to her chin as though she needed protection. She didn’t. In fact, he had the sense she was the strongest woman he’d ever known, true to her convictions, sure of who she was.
He was waiting for her to say this was enough, that it was time for her to go home, time to put a little distance between them. But she didn’t, and he was pushing, shoving, letting them careen forward into an intimacy he wanted, craved, couldn’t imagine retreating from. As long as she smiled and let him, he was going to go forward. He wanted Jamie fiercely, possessively, permanently.
“I am a little cold,” she said.
“Is it time to stop, Jamie?” No, he was the one who felt vulnerable, on his knees next to her, wanting her so bad he was shaking, his erection the size of the Empire State Building.
But she shook her head. “No. I’m not ready to stop.”
He didn’t deserve her or that response, but he wasn’t going to question it. He was going to have her again before she changed her mind. “Jamie, beautiful Jamie. I am a lucky man.”
Jack bent to her ankle and traced the line of it with his finger. He liked the peachy color of her flesh, the way the lamp warmed her skin to the honey gold of a ripe piece of fruit. He kissed her calf, traced his hand over both of her legs, sent the blanket a little higher.
Her smell was different, welcome, the scent of a woman. Nothing in his apartment, his office, even came close to the purity of the lilac aroma that wafted around Jamie, intermingling with the sweet pungency of her arousal. He licked her leg, holding her against the couch when she jerked beneath him.
Leaning forward, he went higher, kissing the sides of her knee, sucking the puckered flesh there. He was so frighteningly aware that Jamie Peters was the kind of woman a man could love, and that he felt a paradoxical, desperate need to settle down with a life partner, like his sister was about to, and fill his apartment with companionship.
And the horrible irony was that he hadn’t been completely honest with her. If he told her now, he wasn’t sure what she would do.
It was frustrating, infuriating, a completely new feeling to not have confidence in what he was doing, to have backed himself into this ugly little corner, and he found himself shoving that stupid blanket up higher, baring more of Jamie before him. Her curls were dusky auburn, like the hair on her head, and her thighs had drifted
apart.
He didn’t want to let her go, didn’t want to see disappointment on her face when she found out he controlled Beechwood’s funding. That he had lied about this apartment.
If there was a stupid fuck-up award, he would definitely qualify for it. Motivated by the need to keep her pleased, needing to hold her close, he bent over her. Teasingly, he kissed, petted, sucked, loved, all around her thighs and hip-bones, avoiding the part of her that wiggled in invitation, growing wetter and wetter even as he watched. Moisture gleamed off her curls, and her fingers scratched a rhythmic clawing on the surface of the sofa.
He couldn’t hear her breathing or moans, and a glance up showed the blanket had gone past her mouth. Her pert nose was visible, and her eyes were clamped shut, head tilted back. Jack ran the palm of his hand over her in a circular motion, letting his thumb drop down over her clitoris.
Then even with the blanket muffling it, he heard the moan that came from her.
His thumb sank down along her folds, first left, then right, stroking the swollen flesh, making his throat constrict and his blood pound. She squirmed.
The silence tripped around him, his focus on her, and her alone.
Jack bent over. Replaced his thumb with his tongue.
Jamie was expecting Jack’s touch. She knew, even as she fought to breathe under the blanket, that he was heading there. But she didn’t expect the sweetness, the gentle play of his tongue over her clitoris, over her slick sex. She ached all the more for the way he took time with her, slowly coaxing her to intense, riveting pleasure.
She couldn’t see a damn thing as he pushed the blanket even farther up to give him room to palm her breast. Cashmere pill balls brushed her lips, and she turned her head left and right, blind in the darkness. But she didn’t care enough to struggle with it, especially when she realized he was doing it on purpose.
It should make her uncomfortable, but it didn’t. She trusted him in a way that she really shouldn’t. But deep down in her gut, she knew he was motivated by a desire to arouse her, to get her screaming hot.
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