“Yes. Yes. Yes,” I chanted, each word followed with a kiss to his neck, his ear, his chin.
“Hmm, that sounds familiar,” he said, winking at me. We walked back through the gardens, through the night, back to our cottage. I could see it glowing in the distance, and my skin began to warm as I thought of all the delicious things Jack would be doing to me in there, and all the things I would get to do to him, as well.
When he turned the key and unlocked the door, I gasped. There were candles everywhere, on every surface. They were all lit, and the effect was spectacular. I turned to face him as he shrugged out of his jacket.
“You wicked, wicked man. How did you do all this?”
“I’m a celebrity. We get things done in a big way, babycakes,” he said teasingly, running his hands up and down my back. The skin heated instantly with the electricity that always flowed so freely between us.
“And a fire in the fireplace? That’s impressive,” I said, walking backward into the room.
“Yeah, I saw it in a book about how to woo women . . . apparently you all like to be boinked in front of a roaring fire.” He laughed and I arched an eyebrow at the boinked.
The laughter slipped away as we really looked at each other. I kissed him chastely and whispered, “I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere.”
He smiled and answered, “Nothing could drag me out of here tonight.”
I shook my head to clear it and made my way to the bedroom. Once inside, I quickly grabbed my bag and went into the bathroom. I let my hair down. It was softly curled around my face. Then I looked at the two pieces of lingerie I’d brought. I never usually dressed for bed. It was pointless. For one, Jack preferred me in one of his shirts, and I agreed. Second, I was rarely dressed for very long anyway once I was in the bed, so it was almost silly.
But this night was different, and I wanted to wear something for him.
Option one: a black baby-doll nightie, which covered me just enough. Lacy and see-through, it was hot. I looked amazing in it, and I knew it would drive Jack wild.
Option two: a white silk nightgown. It had spaghetti straps and hit me just below the knee. It swept down low in the back, while the front dipped enough to give him a glance at his favorite attributes. This one would also drive Jack wild.
I made my selection, placed my hand on the door, then took a deep breath and walked out into the living room.
twenty-one
I felt like someone else was moving me; my feet weren’t moving on their own. I padded softly to where he stood with his back to me, facing the fireplace. He had turned out the lights, leaving the room entirely lit by candlelight and the soft glow of the fire that crackled quietly. The stereo was playing softly in the background. This stage was set, and I felt my nervousness return.
Why are you nervous? This is your Jack . . .
Which was exactly why I was nervous. This was my Jack, and while he had explored every inch of my body with wild abandon, this was something new, something different. And it would alter the way we looked at each other from here on. This wouldn’t just be sex, though I was loath to call it making love. But something would be made here tonight.
I gazed at him quietly, watching his strong hands running through his hair as he watched the flames. I took him in—his strong back, his strong arms, his strong jaw . . . his strength.
A sigh escaped me and he turned to me, his face radiant in the glow from the dancing light. His eyes took me in, sliding down my body and back up to my face. A smile crossed his face, which I answered with my own.
“Hey,” I whispered.
“Hey yourself,” he answered back as he admired my choice in lingerie.
My hair spilled down across my shoulders in the firelight. I knew he could see the shape of my body beneath the ivory gown that clung to me like a sheath. I felt beautiful but still nervous, shifting my weight back and forth in a way that he’d come to call Nervous Grace.
Was he nervous too?
He was biting his lip in the way that always intoxicated me so. There was hunger in his eyes, but there was also trepidation. The fact that he seemed nervous made me fall in love with him all over again.
And I was in love with him. There was no getting around it now. This boy, this man, had taken my heart, wrapped it up in his arms, and carried it with him. I wanted desperately to tell him, to let him know how I felt about him.
He finally spoke, breaking the silence.
“I need . . . I need to touch my Grace,” he stated simply.
As he closed the few feet between us, I grew more nervous. He stopped in front of me, reaching out to gently stroke my hair back from my face.
“Grace . . . you’re beautiful,” he whispered, and I felt myself relax as I leaned into his hand, pressing my cheek into his palm. His other hand cupped my other cheek, and he brought his face to mine. Gently he kissed my forehead, my eyelids, my nose, my blushing cheeks, and, finally, he brought his lips to my own.
“Your lips belong to me,” he whispered.
He kissed me slowly and tenderly, his lips barely brushing mine. His kiss was like our first kiss on the beach, hesitant but deliberate. I breathed in his sweet scent, remembering the first time I was aware of it. Sun, chocolate, pipe tobacco, chimney smoke, and that pure Hamilton that underlined it all.
I felt my body responding to him, and my nervousness fell away. My hands came up to his face, mimicking his own. I opened my eyes and found him staring at me in wonder. I said, “Kiss me again, please.”
He smiled and obliged. My hands fell down to his waist, pulling him tighter into me. His kiss deepened and his tongue pressed against my lower lip. I opened my mouth and felt him enter me. I moaned a little at the feel of his tongue against mine, and his hands began to lose themselves in my hair.
My hands began to work on his shirt, unbuttoning it slowly. His hands slid down as we continued to kiss, my silk catching on his rough fingertips, callused by his guitar. I finished his buttons and pulled his shirt off him. He was reluctant to remove his hands from me, so his shirt hung down behind him while my hands ran the length of his torso.
The smattering of strawberry-blond hair tickled my nose as I pressed myself closer, snuggling into his chest. I reveled in the feel of my skin on his, warm and comforting. His hands roamed endlessly across my arms, my neck, my back, my sides, finally settling on my shoulders as he carefully began to push the straps of my nightgown aside. It dropped slightly, dipping low. He smiled again as his eyes followed the curve of my skin, then returned to mine, the green beginning to deepen.
His eyes belonged to me.
As my nightgown lowered, one breast was exposed. He gazed with something like awe at the little freckle that was perched just above it—his “landmark” freckle, he called it—and his fingers ghosted over my skin. It pebbled beneath his fingertips, and I heard his low intake of breath as he touched me. I could feel him responding to my arousal, and he increased the pressure on my breasts. I moaned my approval, and he lowered his head to me, stopping to kiss my collarbone and the little hollow at the base of my neck. He swept kisses down my chest, trailing a path toward my exposed breast. My hands went up to his hair, and I ran my nails up and down, encouraging him.
He captured my nipple in his mouth and I could feel it rise beneath his touch, while his hand kneaded my other breast. I moaned thickly, shifting my legs a bit with arousal. He bit down lightly, beginning to drive me a little mad. My gasp of pleasure increased the fever that was building.
Then he pulled away from me, to my dismay. His face was a little playful.
“Where do you think you’re going, George?” I asked, my voice sounding husky and low.
“Oh, I love it when you call me George,” he murmured, returning to my skin, his voice thick and seductive.
His voice belonged to me. He slipped an arm around my waist and scooped me up, the other arm hooking underneath my knees, cradling me to him. As he walked toward the bedroom, I kissed his neck. His eyes b
urned into mine as we made our way toward the bed.
“This is like a Danielle Steel novel,” I said teasingly, and he rolled his eyes at me.
“Would you just let me do this my way, please?” he replied, blowing a raspberry on my neck.
I smiled bashfully at him as I saw that he had turned down the covers for us already, and then I noticed there were chocolates on the pillows.
“Candy!” I exclaimed before I could help myself.
He chuckled. “You want to eat candy now, love?” he asked, nuzzling at my ear.
“No, not right now. But it’s nice to know that it’s here . . . for after.” I smiled.
“Yes, for after,” he replied, setting me gently on the bed. He leaned over me, kissing me more deeply now. Like an undercurrent, the passion between us was now becoming more pronounced. There was a need, a hunger that would quickly consume us.
I pushed his shirt back and it finally fell off as I began to work at his zipper. He groaned when I brushed against him, and I felt his excitement under my hands. I looked back up at him and was astounded by the lust in his eyes, the green growing darker by the second. I pushed his pants down and they fell to the floor.
He was bare beneath.
I licked my lips instinctively. “Nice.”
He grinned in return. “I believe you forgot yours too,” he answered devilishly, touching me through the fabric of my nightgown between my legs. I hissed and he chuckled, pressing harder on my already swollen sex.
I lay back, propped up on my elbows, admiring the view of my Jack, naked between my legs. It was a sight I would never tire of—the lean lines of his torso, the muscled forearms, the tapered fingers, the lovely blond hair that led my eyes down to the heaven that was him.
With achingly slow precision, he slipped the straps farther down my arms and removed the silk gown. I lay before him, naked and wanting.
He breathed in heavily, almost gasping, and said, “Beautiful.” His tongue crept out, licking his lower lip in anticipation.
His tongue belonged to me.
I could have stared at him for days on end and never tired of the view.
He leaned back, admiring me as well. “I love the soft curves of your breasts, the lean angles of your arms, the flush of your skin, the roundness of your hips,” he purred.
I was relaxed under his gaze. Everything about him told me he loved my body, exactly the way it was.
Everything he was doing, everything he was saying, was making me ready for him, and I desperately wanted him to make me see God.
He leaned over me, pressing his lips against my breast, taking my nipple into his mouth again, swirling his tongue and listening to me moan.
“That is so . . . unreal,” I murmured, throwing my arms above my head and arching my back so that I was pushed up like an offering. My legs came up tight around his waist as he swept kisses across from left to right, slowly building me up. I moaned almost in anguish as he dragged his tongue down across my stomach and circled my belly button.
“Oh, God,” I cried as he fluttered his tongue along the length of my tummy, tasting the salt of my skin, smelling its scent.
He returned to my breasts, taking each nipple in his mouth in turn, nibbling firmly as I writhed below him. He sucked on the right one before releasing it with a pop that made me arch off the bed entirely and bury my hands in his hair. My eyes flashed open wide, my desire growing frantic.
My left hand struggled to dip below and find him, but he kept himself just out of reach.
“No, Grace, not yet. You,” he said, caressing my breasts again, marveling at how they fit perfectly into his hands. “So amazing. Your breasts belong to me . . .” He moaned.
True to form, he would make sure to take care of me before himself. I had come to enjoy this aspect of his tenderness, of course, but it never failed to amaze me how much he enjoyed bringing me pleasure, putting my needs before his own.
What he was doing to me was making me crazy. My blood was boiling, and my insides were going to mush. I was moaning almost constantly; the feeling of his mouth on my breasts was beyond description. As I felt him brushing his lips lower on my body, I cried out again in anticipation, knowing where he was going.
I felt his warm hands on my thighs, nudging them apart tenderly. He gazed down at me, his eyes fixed in unapologetic worship. What had I done to deserve this man? As he settled between my legs he looked up at me once more, his eyes meeting mine. I moved my left hand down to grasp his right, holding tightly to him. He smiled at me as his lips kissed the inside of my right thigh.
“Jack . . . ,” I breathed, keeping my eyes on him as he continued to sweep gentle kisses along the soft skin, moving to my other leg. He was within inches of me, yet he concentrated his mouth along the tender skin on either side, eyes always on me. He watched as I began to breathe more heavily, every pass taking him closer to where I needed him to be.
I could see the need in his eyes, the want and the lust.
“Please, Jack, please,” I begged him.
His eyes spoke to me, answering my pleas. His mouth hovered over me, teasing me for what seemed like hours, but actually only seconds passed. Finally he kissed me, as only he could.
His mouth belonged to me.
No doubt he could feel me tense beneath his mouth. He knew my body so well now, understood that I was already close. He dipped his tongue into me, slowly, knowing the reaction he would get.
I rose up off the bed violently and gave a great sigh. Using his fingers, he gently parted me, sweeping his tongue up and down, back and forth, and I began to moan again.
He lapped at me more forcefully now, making swoops and swirls with his tongue. He pressed his fingers into me, curling, searching for my J-spot. He’d chuckled the first time I’d told him I’d renamed it after him, but he’d thought it fascinating . . . and flattering.
Pressing his fingers down, he fixed his mouth firmly on my other sweet spot.
My breath came fast as I began to cry out, “Oh, God, Jack . . . please . . . don’t stop . . . don’t stop . . . that is so good . . . oh, God.” I began to rock my hips in syncopation with his tongue, his mouth, and his fingers as he stroked me from the inside. My moans became his as he struggled to keep me flush against the mattress.
He ceased for a moment, looking up at me and grinning that devilish grin.
“Your taste belongs to me.”
His mouth, his tongue, his fingers, his hands, his everything were in perfect concert, and with a shiver, I came.
I came hard and strong, sweet tension surging through my body and out of my fingertips and toes and the ends of my hair. I chanted his name over and over again like a prayer as wave after wave crashed through me. I saw light and love, and I felt another orgasm take me again.
I shuddered and shook, and he stayed with me the entire time, never stopping, keeping time with me and staying just ahead of every need I had. He knew what I wanted even before I did.
As I finally came back down, my eyes almost crossed, I felt his teeth nibbling at the inside of my thigh, refreshing my Hamilton Brand. I smiled through my orgasm haze, thinking of his wicked, wicked ways.
His wickedness belonged to me.
As he marked me as his yet again, I smiled, rose up on my elbows, and beckoned him to me with one finger. He kissed my thigh one last time, crawling up to me.
My lips crashed into his, my taste still coating his mouth, and he groaned. He groaned for what he had just given me and for what I was about to give him. He raised himself up, pushing us both back farther up onto the bed. I moved with him, still kissing him furiously.
“Your body belongs to me,” he said, sliding his body against mine.
He was between my legs, and he stopped kissing me as he felt himself positioned exactly where I was aching for him to be. His eyes met mine, and with wordless communication, he asked my permission. My eyes answered yes. Yes. Yes.
Then, with a tenderness I had never experienced, he pressed into me. We
both stopped breathing as he entered me, sliding divinely through me, filling me, complementing me and loving me. Our eyes never left each other, and as I felt him fill me completely, tears sprang to my eyes with the pureness of what this had become. I watched his face change from lust to pure joy as he felt me welcome him. This was perfection.
I enveloped him. I watched his face as he entered me, his eyes anchoring me as I stopped breathing. I felt the tears in my eyes as he filled me. He looked over-the-moon happy, and I couldn’t move. I was overcome with the sensation of his finally being inside me, and the feeling was beyond comprehension. We both held still for a moment, lost in wonder.
Then I began to move beneath him.
Glorious.
I rocked my hips slowly, purposefully, driving him deeper into me. He let his breath out, and as I felt him penetrate me more deeply, I tightened around him, making him shudder.
“So warm, you’re so warm. So . . . warm,” he chanted, sinking in.
He moved with me, making me shudder in turn as our rhythm increased. I arched my back, and he pressed his lips to my breasts. He raised himself up on his arms, propping himself above so he could look down at me, and I gazed up at his sweet face, overcome with emotion as I moved with him, matching each thrust with a forcefulness that was driving me over the brink.
He pulled out almost entirely, and then he slipped back into me, driving me up higher on the bed. My hips repositioned and he drove into me deeper, filling me in a new way, creating a different sensation for us both. I wrapped my legs higher around his waist and dragged my nails down his back, eliciting a hiss from him.
“Grace, I need to see you,” he groaned, withdrawing and then flipping over quickly so that he was on his back and I was above. I swung one leg over him and then straddled him. He grasped my hands firmly as I sank down slowly, taking him in as deeply as I could.
“Oh, God, Grace, that’s brilliant.” He moaned as I began to rock against him. His hands released mine and he caressed my breasts, rolling my nipples between his fingertips, causing me to clench down tightly around him again, bringing another groan from him. My hands came up to my hair, getting lost in it as I felt him, so hard, inside me.
The Redhead Series Page 20
