Lucky Stars (Ghosts and Reincarnation #5)(123)

It had only been weeks since he’d kissed her like this but Belle had forgotten how good it felt. She’d forgotten how much she loved Jack’s kisses. She’d forgotten how lost she could get, forgetting to be meek and mild, becoming the Belle she wanted to be.

Therefore, she kissed him back.

He growled in her mouth.

His growl shot straight between her legs and those legs became restless.

Jack rolled to the side, his mouth never disengaging, his kisses long and sweet, his hand drifted down her belly, over her hip then, against her mouth he demanded in a deep, hoarse voice that sent shivers through her, “Open your legs for me, poppet.”

Belle didn’t hesitate. Her legs parted for him and as his tongue danced with hers, his fingers trailed down the insides of her thighs then up, along the edges of her panties then down again, feather-soft on her sensitive skin.

She wrapped her arms around him, mindlessly sliding her fingers along the muscled skin of his back, his sides, his waist, anywhere she could reach.

Somewhere from far away, she heard Jack murmur, “Further, Belle.”

“What?” she breathed, confused, her mind disengaged, her entire being centred on her thighs, his fingers and all the beauty she was feeling.

“Spread your legs further, love,” Jack whispered and she felt another rush of heat and wetness between those legs and, because of that, she did as he demanded and felt her reward, his smile against her lips. “That’s it, poppet, open for me.” At his encouragement, she spread her legs even wider.

His mouth took hers in another hot, demanding kiss as his fingers continued their beautiful torture, whisper-light touches, so close but not close enough. She’d tense, preparing for his touch, needing his invasion, certain it was coming but then they’d glide away.

When she thought she could take no more, suddenly they were there, lightly dancing across her panties in a sensuous tease.

She moaned deep in her throat and felt his groan against her tongue.

He pulled away, muttered, “So f**king wet,” and then he was gone.

“Jack?” she breathed in sudden confusion but she needn’t have worried. She felt his hands strong on her hips, pushing up her nightgown then pulling down her panties then his mouth was right there.

She arched her back right before she lifted her hips, seeking maximum contact with his mouth, his tongue and all the glorious things they were doing to her.

“Oh God,” she moaned, rocking her h*ps against his mouth.

She’d forgotten how good he was at this.

How could she forget?

She was close, so close, her hands in his hair, demanding more.

Then suddenly, she lifted her torso up, scooted away and Jack’s mouth disengaged.

Desperate for something else, she pulled at his shoulders and he came over her, rolling to his back, taking her with him, muttering, “Belle –”

She lifted, sitting astride him, pulling his upper body to hers and her mouth went to his.

“Teach me,” she begged against his mouth, rubbing herself against his groin.

“Belle, love, I don’t under –”

“I’ve never done it. Teach me how to do it at the same time,” she pleaded and she saw his eyes flash hot before his hand fisted in her hair, crushing her mouth to his as his other hand came between their bodies.

She felt him guide himself inside.

Her crazy, spinning-out-of-control world, all of a sudden righted the minute he slid inside.

Instantly she started moving up and down, riding him, frantic as he kissed her and his thumb pressed between her legs, its strong, determined circling sending shudders down her thighs.

“I felt so empty,” she muttered against his mouth. “Jack, so empty.” Her voice was husky, her words not coming from her brain but somewhere else. “It’s so good to be full of you again.”

“Belle,” he murmured, her name coming at her as deep and throaty as her words had been and his mouth captured hers again. He sat up, her head tipping down to keep contact with his mouth, her movements became frenzied, his thumb more determined and he tore his lips from hers and ordered, “Finish, my love.” She shook her head, holding back, wanting to wait, wanting to feel more of this, more of him, wanting to be full of him forever.

His hand in her hair tilted her face to his and he demanded, “Finish, love, right now.”

And she did as she was told, still rearing uncontrollably against his hardness, seeking, demanding, impaling him deep inside her even as her cl**ax scored straight through to her soul.

It was so intense, so thorough, Belle was, many heady moments later, disappointed to see that she missed his.

Before she could form a thought, Jack fell to his back, taking her with him, pulling the covers over their bodies without losing their intimate connection.

She tucked her face in his neck, her thoughts scattered. She tried to catch even one and found the only thing she could focus on was his warmth, his body hard and strong under hers, their connection making her feel complete.

One of his hands travelled up and down her back as the other slid through her hair and after awhile, he murmured, “I missed you, poppet.”

She felt the tears well and without her faculties engaging, she couldn’t stop them from sliding from her eyes.

“Belle?”

“You don’t think I’m wanton?” she blurted, her embarrassed mind swiftly filled with recent memories of her begging, her desperation, her frantic movements.