Seven Years to Sin(72)

“No one else.” Alistair’s teeth nipped at her earlobe. “I’d castrate any man who tried.”

Maddened by the rolling of her nipple and the sudden slide of a long finger into her grasping sex, Jess rolled her hips and whimpered. A second finger joined the first, thrusting slow and easy. She sucked in a deep breath, intoxicated by his sun-warmed scent. “Please …”

“Bend over.” He punctuated the order by pushing her down.

Jess tumbled forward, stemming her fall by extending her arms. Alistair straightened, allowing the breeze to blow over her back. He pushed down the stockinette of her pantalettes. Perspiration misted her skin.

“So pretty,” he praised, running his hands over her derriere. Cupping her sex, he massaged her with his palm. “So swollen and slick. Do you need a cock to fill you, my lovely captive? Do you ache with emptiness?”

She was so vulnerable like this, unable to watch his face or movements. “Always.”

There was a faint rustle of displaced clothing, then the wide head of his cock notched against her. It was the only warning she had. Gripping her hips, he yanked her back as he thrust, piercing deep with a single lunge of his hips.

Crying out, she fought to keep her arms steady and extended.

“Christ.” He rolled his hips, nudging against the end of her. “I’m so deep in you, Jess. Do you feel how deep I am?”

Her eyes closed on a shaky exhalation. She felt the doeskin of his breeches against the backs of her thighs and the cuffs of his shirtsleeves against her hips. When she looked down, she saw his muddy boots. He was fully dressed, shielded from exposure, whereas she was mostly nude and mounted. The lascivious image in her mind of how they would look to a bystander spurred her desire. Aroused beyond bearing, she rippled along his length. Alistair’s answering groan carried on the breeze, but she didn’t care if anyone heard them. Her focus had narrowed to the point where they joined and the tender flesh that quivered around his thick penetration.

He began to move. Not with the rough, pounding tempo she’d expected in such a primitive position, but at a leisurely pace. Deliberate. Taking her with long, sinuous glides of his thick penis into her clenching depths. He devastated her when he took her like this. He was unhurried. Rhythmic and graceful. Wickedly practiced. He worked her hips in time to his thrusting, circling, rubbing, and stroking over every tender spot.

Her legs gave out. She fell to her knees on the dais, and he slipped out to the tip, then rammed deep as he followed her down. She cried out … conquered. He kneed her legs wider, quickening his rhythm. His heavy sac smacked against her wet flesh again and again, the cadenced erotic slapping against her clitoris adding an entirely new level of sensation. Her arms lost their strength and her shoulders sank into the pillows, angling her hips even higher. Nothing impeded Alistair’s possession of her now, but still he kept that controlled and steady pace that had her clawing at the silk around her.

“God, you’re tight like this,” he said hoarsely. “And so wet. I want to come in you now …”

“Yes!”

“Not yet. I’m going to f*ck you until I can no longer stand.”

His crudity surged through her in a violent shiver. She climaxed in a heated rush, her body vibrating with the force of it. He cursed as she milked him with ecstatic pulses. He held still and ground against her, staving off his own pleasure. His fingers dug into her thighs with bruising force. And she loved it. Loved that she could break his steely control just by taking whatever he needed her to take.

Jess surrendered, letting the orgasm flow through her unchallenged. Alistair’s grip lightened as she relaxed, his hands soothing her with gentle caresses and soft murmurs. She was so lost in the languid afterglow of her climax, it took her long moments before she realized he was too still. Opening her eyes, she turned her head and found him looking down at her with a clenched jaw having nothing to do with desire.

“What is it?” Her pleasured haze receded in the face of the darkness sweeping over his features.

His voice came clipped and furious. “What are these marks on your skin?”

Jess winced, hating that he’d seen the thin silvery scars marring her derriere and upper thighs. If they hadn’t been outside in the unforgiving sunlight, he might never have seen them. Although she detested the truth, she gave it to him. “Surely you recognize the marks of a switch?”

“Bloody hell.” He curled over her, mantling her body with his own, his grip around her torso like iron bands. Fiercely protective and obstinately comforting. “Do you bear other scars?”

“Not on the outside. But, regardless, they no longer signify.”

“The hell they don’t. Where else?”

She hesitated, wanting nothing more than to leave their painful pasts behind them.

“Where, Jessica?”

“I cannot hear in my left ear,” she said softly, “as you know.”

“Hadley is responsible for that?” He pressed his hot face into her back. “Jesus …”

“I don’t want to think about it now,” she complained. “Not here. Not while you’re inside me.”

Alistair’s open mouth rubbed against her spine, his breathing rough. “I’ll make you forget.”

She moaned her relief as he cupped her breasts, her thoughts scattering with the ocean breeze.