Mists of the Serengeti(59)

And then the space between us exploded.

He covered my mouth hungrily, devouring its softness, his long fingers buried in my hair. He tugged a fistful, exposing my neck and left a trail of tantalizing, beard-brushed kisses. My back arched at the feel of them—unexpectedly silky against my flesh. Goosebumps rioted over my skin as he unclasped my bra and tossed it aside. My eyelashes fluttered shut when his tongue swirled over a taut, dusky pink nipple, whispering his adoration in gruff, short breaths.

“Hold tight, sweetness.” He gazed up at me when my hands clutched his shoulders. His eyes held the most intoxicating kind of threats and promises.

I gasped as he pushed me onto my back, his hand searing a path down my abdomen and onto my thigh. He rubbed slow circles over the wet, clinging fabric of my jeans, moving closer and closer to the junction between my legs.

My nerves thrummed, like the rain falling on the canvas roof over us, but he denied me and tugged at my zip instead. I held my breath as he pulled it down slowly, watching me with a look that was so potent, so compelling, he might as well have been unfastening my soul, bit by quivering bit. He slid my jeans off and sat back on his knees, drinking me in.

It had been different in the dark, but in the gray, muted daylight, my insecurities kicked in. It wasn’t as if I’d been naked in front of many men before. A hand under my blouse, a feel up my skirt, but never so exposed. And certainly not with someone who looked like Jack. My hands moved instinctively across my breasts and stomach.

“Don’t.” He clamped my wrists above me as his hooded eyes roved over my naked body. My flesh trembled, my toes curled, but when I opened my eyes and caught the expression on his face, everything melted. He was looking at me like I was stardust and light.

“Jesus.” His eyes darkened with stark sensuality. “You are so fucking beautiful.”

He paused to kiss me and then started planting worshipful caresses with his hands, and his lips, and his tongue, and his teeth. He moved slowly, relishing every inch, until the hot flush of desire rippled in waves under my skin, making my hips surge in an age-old rhythm.

“That’s it, baby. Now let me ride it with you.”

I bucked at the first brush of his tongue between my slick folds as he buried his face between my legs.

“Mmm.” He lifted his head for a second to savor the wetness on his lips. “God, I’ve been dying to taste you. You’re . . .” The rest of his words were muffled, but they melted into hot, sweet vibrations against the very core of me.

Jack was not a quiet lover. He voiced his pleasure with thick, throaty sounds. He threw my leg over his shoulder and nipped my inner thigh before plunging his tongue into me. I held onto his wild, thick hair as involuntary tremors of arousal shot through me. He seemed to sense the awakening flames because his movements intensified, carrying me to the peaks of pleasure.

“Yes.” He lifted my hips off the floor, bringing me in full, carnal contact with his mouth. “Fuck, yes.”

His raw sensuousness sent me over the edge. I gasped, and yielded to the twisting, gasping sweetness that burst through me in whirls of electric sensation.

I was still panting when he gathered me against his warm, pulsing body. My breasts crushed against the hardness of his chest as he rubbed the bare skin of my back and shoulders. It was as if he knew I needed that, to ground me because I felt like I was going to float away.

I don’t know exactly when we started kissing, or when his soft stroking turned my skin to liquid fire. Something dormant had awakened in me, and I was greedy with it. I tugged on his jeans, sliding them off. I touched him, explored him, aroused him, worshiped him—the moon-curve of his lips, the pleasure groves behind his ears, the valleys between his hard, chiseled abs. He was like a piece of living, breathing, responsive art—melting when I touched him here, turning rock hard when I teased him there. I learned his taste and his curves, the sweetness of his breath, the indents of his back, the rough hair on his leg. I reveled in his moans, his grunts, his shivers of delight, the way his head rolled back when I took him in my mouth, the look in his eyes as he lowered his body over mine, imprisoning me in a web of mounting arousal.

He held still for a second, though I could feel him throbbing with need before he pushed in. My body stretched to accommodate him, inch by slick inch—slowly, impossibly—until he came to a barrier. He withdrew slightly and brushed a strand of hair off my face.

“Kiss me,” he said, smoky and raw.

I touched my lips to his, my focus still on the point where our bodies were melded.

“A real kiss,” he growled, grazing my bottom lip with his teeth. “Like this.” His mouth swooped down to capture mine until my senses were spinning. My breath escaped through softly parted lips. “Give me your tongue.” His words were a spell I had fallen under. I shivered as the velvet warmth of his tongue tangled with mine, losing myself to the mastery of his kiss.

That was when he thrust deep into me—one hard, firm push that made me gasp and break free of his lips. I clutched his shoulders, my nails leaving crescent shaped indents as the pain tore through me.

“Shhh. I’ve got you.” He dropped kisses on my forehead, my nose, the corner of my mouth. He stayed inside me, not moving, until my body adjusted to him and the pain subsided.

“Not gonna lie.” His Adam’s apple bobbed as he started to rock gently inside me. “It’s taking everything in me not to take you hard and fast. You feel like heaven.” He laced his fingers through mine, as if to anchor himself.