Into the Fire - Anne Stuart [58]
She didn’t pull away. The feel, the shape of him beneath the jeans was something mysterious and powerful, and his quiet sound of pleasure made her burn hotter.
He rolled onto his back. “That’s right, baby girl,” he said. “Go ahead,” And he took her hand again and put it inside his jeans, to touch him.
She tried to pull away at that, but he was too strong, holding her hand against his silken skin as he unzipped his jeans with the other, shoving them down his hips and kicking them out of the way.
He reached for something from the table beside him, and she realized it was a condom. She was getting used to the feel of him, the silky skin, the hardness beneath, the dampness, but he took her hand away and she heard the ripping of foil.
“Playtime’s over, baby girl. Time to get serious.”
“We weren’t serious before?” she murmured dazedly.
“I want to make you come when I’m inside you.”
His words burned her, but she shook her head. “It won’t work—”
“It did before, and this time you’re wet.” He lifted her up, seemingly effortlessly, back to her position astride his body. Except that this time they were both naked, and he held her by her hips, just above his body.
She could feel him between her legs, hard and solid, just waiting. “It’s up to you now, Jamie,” he said in a tight voice. “If you want me there you have to take me.”
She could feel him, the head of his sheathed erection pressing against her. Waiting for her to make her move. She held her breath, and then began to take him, feeling him slowly fill her, inch by inch, until she had all of him deep inside her.
She was shaking, covered with sweat. It made no sense that the invasion of his body would have such a powerful effect on her. He was big inside her, thick and hard, but there was no pain, and she rocked forward a little, then back again, and the pleasure was astonishing. And she needed more.
“I can’t,” she said in a strangled voice.
He put his hands on her hips, cradling them. “Let me get you started,” he whispered, and he moved her, up and down, a slow, steady pace of advance, retreat, empty and fulfilled. But there was nothing relaxed about it—each time she took him inside her she wanted more, needed more, and she unconsciously quickened her pace.
“Are we in a hurry?” His voice sounded almost lazy, but she could feel the tension in his body, the feel of him inside her, and she knew he was feeling it, too, that inner trembling that shook her.
Faster, harder, and she was sliding against him, her body slick with sweat, and she shook, frustrated, pleading. “No,” she said in a choked voice. “I can’t do this. Help me.”
“You just have to ask.” He rolled her beneath him, and all she could do was wrap her legs tight around him, feeling the fierce knot of pleasure expand and build.
“Me inside you,” he whispered in her ear. He put his hand between their sweat-damp bodies and touched her, hard, as he slammed his body deep inside her.
She could feel him. Feel his sheathed cock begin to expand and jerk as his orgasm hit him, and then she couldn’t think or feel anything but the dark, unspeakable pleasure that felt somehow like death.
It was a long time before he pulled away from her, and she was too dazed to do anything but lie still as stray shivers danced across her body.
She felt his fingers on her cheek, brushing the tears away, but she didn’t open her eyes. “Poor baby girl,” he murmured, his voice slightly shaken. “I should have just dumped Nate at that party and driven off with you. That’s what I wanted to do, you know. Take you back to my place and fuck your brains out. I knew the Duchess would have my ass in jail, but I was going to end up there sooner or later. It would have been worth it if I’d gone for this.”
He let his hand slide down her neck, her throat, to brush against her breast,