Seven Years to Sin(48)
Hunching over her, Alistair sank his teeth into her shoulder. Hard enough to leave a mark, but not enough to break the skin. She moaned and arched into his mouth. It was a primitive act, one goaded by the feel of her greedy cunt pulling and sucking at the head of his cock, luring him to sink home. Bare. Nothing between his most sensitive flesh and hers. In all his life, he’d never taken a woman without the protective sheath of a French letter. Only with her would he do so. Jessica—a woman he’d known was meant to be his from the moment he first saw her.
His hands moved from her thighs to the bed, supporting his weight as he pumped his hips in a timed, unhurried rhythm. She took advantage of her sudden freedom, wrapping her legs around him and tugging him deeper. Her breath left her in a gasped cry of his name as he slid in to the root, buried completely.
Alistair held still, struggling for control. He fought to make allowances for her straining body to grow accustomed to him throbbing hard and thick inside her. She stared up at him, her eyes wide and luminous, windows to her soul. There was no evidence of the chilly hauteur she was renowned for. She was burning hot beneath him, around him; all artifice and distance melting away. The look on her face was one he’d never seen on anyone, yet it mirrored how he felt—profoundly affected, split wide open, with nowhere to hide.
When she pushed upward and kissed his clenched jaw, something shifted inside him, shaking him to the core. His blood was raging for her, spurred by seven years of waiting to be right where he was, but she stayed his violent need with a single soft, sweet kiss. He was devastated by her tenderness in the face of his ferocious desire. Pressing his damp cheek to hers, he nuzzled against her, breathing in the smell of sex and lust and beloved woman. She fit him perfectly, if tightly, as he’d known she would. His beautiful, irreproachable Jess. A woman capable of reining in an entire roomful of exuberant people with a single quelling glance. Yet her body had been designed to hold him, a man built for pleasuring women in the most exuberant way possible.
Without conceit, he knew how generously he was endowed. His size had been a tool he’d used to his advantage once he had become aware of how pleasing it was to women.
But he had not been meant for those women. He had been fashioned for Jessica, just as she had been crafted for him. If it killed him, he would make her see it.
He traced the shell of her ear with his tongue, feeling her slick sex clasp him in response. “Perfection,” he whispered, following her down as she sank back into the bed. “Two halves of a whole.”
Jess gripped his upper arms and licked her lower lip, her hips moving in tight little circles, loosening the way for him. “Please,” she pled again in that throaty murmur that undid him.
Bracing himself with palms flat to the bed, he withdrew slowly, relishing the feel of her clinging to his cock. He returned with effort, pushing through the tight resistance. Her head thrashed and her eyes closed, which he could not allow. He needed her to stay with him, to see him through the storm he knew was coming. The pressure of his impending orgasm was fisted around his bollocks and pulsing through his cock, warning him that he would soon be wasted by the woman beneath him. Even knowing how she could destroy him, he couldn’t pull away. She’d snared him completely that long-ago night, bewitched him beyond redemption. There was no other choice for him. Somehow, he had to make himself the only choice for her.
Pushing his arms beneath her shoulders, he cupped her head in his hands, pinning her completely. His mouth came down over hers, his head tilting to deepen the contact. She caught his waist, arching into him. Their perspiration sealed their torsos together, adding another raw layer to their heated coupling. He moved. She moved. They found a rhythm. She clawed at his back; he kissed her as if he’d die if their lips were parted. His tongue plunged and retreated along with his cock, both seeking to drive her wild. He needed her wild, as crazed and desperate as he felt.
Alistair rolled his hips, probing with the iron-hard length of his penis, absorbing every nuance of her fevered response. He found a spot that made her shiver beneath him and exploited it, stroking over it again and again. He growled when she climaxed, the delicate muscles inside her rippling and gripping his plunging cock. He hung on to his control by the thinnest of threads, needing to see her through first before he took any more than she’d already given him.
He slowed, gliding in and out, lifting his head to watch the pleasure take her. The way was easier now, her body accepting his possession with rich creamy moisture. Her eyes were dazed, her lips swollen. She breathed his name … Alistair. He thickened.
“You didn’t—You still …”
“All day,” he reminded, lunging heavily, accelerating his tempo. “All night.”
Her fingertips flexed into his back. Her legs tightened around his hips. “Yes. Please.”
Chapter 14
Jess awoke to the feel of firm fingertips gliding back and forth across her forearm. She lay on her stomach with one arm tossed over Alistair’s torso. Her body felt achy and heavy, well used. For a long moment, she lay there, absorbing the odd reality of waking up to a man beside her. It was surprisingly pleasant, reaffirming the intimacy established through lovemaking.
It was growing dark outside. The sunlight that had shone through the porthole earlier was dimmed now. Hours had passed, as had several shattering orgasms. She hadn’t known her body was capable of repeating a climax so soon, or that a man’s body was capable of such sexual stamina. Although Benedict had sometimes taken her more than once in a night, it was always with hours between one encounter and the next. Alistair had required little time for recovery … mere moments. He said that was because of her, because of his desire for her. Of course, he was younger than Benedict. Younger than she … but she refused to think about that.