by Janice Lynn
“Call me Jill,” she breathlessly demanded. “I want to hear my name when you’re inside of me. Not some fictional character from a television show.”
“Jill?”
She paused, looking uncertain for the first time since she’d entered his suite. “It’s a nickname my friends call me. Jane is off limits to you. Right now, tonight, I’m not Jane. Make love to me, to Jill.”
“Okay.” She was right. He wasn’t making love to Jane. He wanted Jess--er Jill Davidson.
“Say it,” she whispered, moving sensuously against him, making his blood throb through his body.
“I’m going to make love to you, Jill, and I’m going to thrust into you until you scream my name over and over in ecstasy.”
She smiled. The smile of a woman who knew she was going to be thoroughly satisfied before the sun rose. He scooped her into his arms.
“Oh,” she exclaimed, wrapping her arms around his neck.
He lowered her onto his king-sized bed, gently, reverently, with shaking arms and burning desire. Need to possess her urged him to strip her panties and sink inside, but he restrained himself. They had all night, right? He wanted to make this last, to feel her orgasm time and again. Not take her like a seventeen-year-old novice only out for his own satisfaction. But hell, if he didn’t feel like a seventeen-year-old about to experience sex for the first time. He had to get control of his body and quick. One…wait, he’d already tried counting, twice, and it hadn’t worked either time.
“No one’s ever done that before.” Her eyes shined as she gazed up at him.
“What? Carried you to bed?” He ran his fingers down her face, wondering if a more beautiful woman had ever lived. Her thick lashes swept across her cheeks. A soft whimper escaped her lips.
Something unrecognized, protective, probably unwanted, moved within him, but now wasn’t the time for analyzing the rampant feelings she elicited within him.
“They should have. You deserve to be swept off your feet, Ja-ill.”
Her hand grasped his, and she tugged him to her. She rained blistering kisses over his chest. Surely, if he looked, his skin would be scorched, branded by her hot mouth.
“I want you. Inside me. Now.”
His abdominal muscles clenched in response to her demand. Oh yeah. He wanted that, too. So desperately and for so long that the intensity of his desire to possess this one woman almost scared him witless.
“Yes.” He stretched out next to her on the hand-sewn quilt, greedily stroking the creamy flesh of her breasts.
“Yes,” he repeated, his hands roaming her, touching, molding, seeking. “Again and again until you can’t see straight.”
“Prove it,” she softly challenged, rotating her hips against his throbbing manhood.
He’d been trying to slow things down, to be patient. To hell with slow. And since when had he ever been patient? Deep and hard. That’s what this situation called for. Fast and furious. His man to her woman. He wouldn’t wait another second.
He hooked her panties with his thumbs and slid them down her long, long toned legs. She didn’t move except to lift her hips and watch him gawk like a schoolboy at her amazing body. Could she see the awe he felt? The fire in him to seize her perfection?
He kissed her breasts, her stomach, the trim triangle of chestnut curls, lower. She squirmed, undulating against his mouth, her fists clasping and unclasping the folds of the quilt as he flicked his tongue across her sweet nub.
Roses. Sweet, sweet rose petals. Rose petals that fed a starving man’s obsession.
“Rob. Oh, Rob,” she cried, her head tossed back and forth in rhythm with the motions of his mouth as he pushed her closer and closer. Her spine bowed, and he knew she was almost there. “Rob, please, oh, please.”
Her frantic pants were nearly driving him crazy with the need to thrust into her slick heat. But he wanted to make her come this way first. To taste and feel her response to his touch. To know she was as needy for him as he was for her. More.
“Rob, I can’t stand anymore. Please. Please come inside me,” she begged, her voice raspy with ardor. “Now. Take me, now.”
Almost. She was almost where he wanted. But not yet. Not until she lost control would he mount her, fill her with his rock hard length, to complete them as one being.
“Rob.” Her voice was becoming more and more urgent. Desperate. Her back arched, her legs tensed, her abdomen contracted. “OhmyGodohmyGod!”
Now. Continuing his gentle sucks and tongue flicks, he slid his finger deep into her hot dampness. She convulsed around him, grabbing his shoulders like she held on for dear life. Her fingernails dug in as she cried out, her orgasm hitting them both full force.
“Oh my God. I’ve never. Not like that. Oh, Rob. Oh. My. God.” She sounded like she’d just run the hundred-yard dash--and won.
But she couldn’t have because he’d won whatever race had just taken place. Won the prize of her wild release. Damn, but he felt smug in the knowledge of her words, of her powerful response. Smug and victorious.
Oh hell. He was about to come.
Think cold shower. Think pain. Think taxes.
Think it’s time to put a condom on.
Where was his wallet?
There. On the nightstand. Next to an ornamental bowl and pitcher.
Rolling from her, he removed the foil pouch and took care of protection. He positioned himself above her entrance and stared into her dazed eyes. Dazed, but fast returning from bliss to hungry passion.
She languidly nodded, begging with her eyes for him to make them one.
He thrust inside.
And drowned.
Drowned on the emotions that flooded through him. Like a leaf crossing over Niagara Falls, he plummeted into unknown waters.
Ecstasy. Perfection. Heaven.
Alpha and Omega.
Everything. It all started and ended right here in this room with he and Jane. Where his body connected with hers.
She wrapped her legs around his waist, taking him deeper still. How she managed, he didn’t know because he was already lost inside her. Lost to everything but the woman rocking the foundations of his definition of sex, of life.
Skin to skin. Body to body. He plundered her field of roses, relishing each new blossom he encountered as he sank deeper and deeper under her spell.
He was in major trouble.
Sex had never been like this.
“Rob.” Her thighs quivered around him, and all rational thought disappeared. Loving her, driving her wild with frenzied desire took precedence over everything.
“Tell me, Jane,” he grated between clenched teeth, barely containing his need to pound her violently, uncontrollably, instinctively. “Tell me what you want.”
Chapter Twelve
Jane? Somewhere in the recesses of her hazy mind, the wrong name registered.
“Jill. Call me Jill,” she reminded.
“Jill.” Guilt briefly flickered across his face, but his conquering of her body didn’t pause. Thank God. She’d probably almost blown it by asking him to call her Jill, but she didn’t want to hear another woman’s name on his lips while he was inside her, making love to her. Even if she was supposedly the other woman.
If she only had the one night, it would be her night.
Sex had never been this good. Chocolate for breakfast wasn’t this good.
Searching to see if he felt the same magic that coursed through her body, she met Rob’s gaze. Perspiration dampened his hair, slicked his skin. His wide shoulders bunched into tight muscles. He held his upper body off her, as he pumped deeper and deeper. His pulse throbbed erratically in his neck, assuring that he was just as moved by their lovemaking.
She twined her fingers into his dark hair and tugged him to her, smashing her mouth desperately to his. She lifted her hips to meet him, thrust for heavenly thrust.
His entire body hardened to a blade of steel, his muscles contracted, his abdomen rigid, his hips poised above hers.
“Jill.” It was all he said, before his determined control snapped. She caught his strangled cry with her mouth as he hammered into her, hot flesh slapping against hot flesh. Heat, tension built until she imploded into hot lava. A fire that started where her skin touched his and spiraled in liquid, pulsating waves to her very core.
“Rob,” she practically screamed. Her fingers clasped his hair, twisting, pulling him closer. “Now Rob. Now.”
His body pummeled her with his climatic release.
“Jill,” he growled before collapsing onto her, his breathing ragged and his heart racing against her chest.
Oh yes. This was what it was all about. All the hoopla about sex. Finally she knew.
She kissed his cheek. Oh God, Rob Lancaster had just stolen a big chunk of her heart and given her the biggest O of her life. The biggest? Heck, the little twinges she’d previously experienced no longer even qualified as orgasms.
Her feelings for Dan had never been like this. And she didn’t just mean the out of this world sex. Neither Dan, nor her previous lover, had managed to propel her to the moon, much less another solar system, but her emotions had more to do with this unique man lying on her, squashing her.
Not that she was willing to give up the glorious pressure of his body on hers. She only got the one night and she planned to touch him every single glorious second of it.
“Wow,” she whispered against his damp hair. He smelled wonderful, all musky and manly. Satisfied.
He started to roll off her, and she tightened her grip. “No.”
He lifted his head. “I’m too heavy for you.”
“No, you’re not,” she denied.
“Yes, I am.” Not giving her the opportunity to protest, he rolled, pulling her with him. In one swift movement, he’d reversed their positions.
“Okay, so you were a little heavy. You didn’t hear me complaining.” She smiled down at him, wiggling her head back and forth to tickle him with her hair.
“No, I can’t say I’ve ever heard you complain.” His hand swept up, brushed her hair back. His gaze searched hers. “You’re amazing.”
Her smile brightened, reaching deep inside to warm her inner most being. “So are you.”
“Did I hurt you?”
“Not hardly,” she scoffed, loving the warmth emanating from his eyes. She arched a brow in challenge. “Dude, I was more afraid I might have hurt you.”
He laughed and playfully swatted her bottom. The brisk contact of his palm against her bare bottom stung.
“Ouch,” she complained. “Now, that hurt.”
She reached around and rubbed her sensitized skin.
“Want me to kiss it and make it better?”
Her gaze shot to his. “So soon?” she asked, awed at his stamina.
“Not yet, but if you keep wiggling like that, it won’t be long.” He grinned, mischief playing in his eyes. “Well, actually, it will be long. And hard. And…”
“You are so bad.” She kissed him, deep. “And I like it.” Another kiss. “A lot.” And another. “A whole lot.”
# # #
Much later, Jill lay in Rob’s arms listening to the thump-thump of his heartbeat. He was awake, but neither of them had spoken for over fifteen minutes. Not since he’d taken her on the wildest ride of her life. She smoothed her hand across his chest, wishing she could reach inside and make his heart her own.
What was he thinking about?
Was it possible he’d tell her to end this ridiculous charade as Princess Isabella Jane Strovanik and spend the next hundred years or so being his love slave? At the moment, she had no doubt she’d agree to be his sex servant and live but to serve her master.
And just what did that say about her?
She’d never before had sex with a man who she wasn’t in a committed relationship with. There had only been the two men. The one during her early college days and Dan. Dan. How could she not have realized before coming to Europe that they were all wrong for each other? Thank God he’d ended their romantic relationship. He was like a brother to her. Did loneliness really drive one to ignore logic and believe a good friend was much more?
Obviously so.
And what about Rob?
How did he feel about her? About what they’d just shared together. Phenomenal sex to say the least.
For her the sex had only been the cherry on top of the sundae. Rob was ice cream topped with chocolate syrup, whip cream, and oh, yeah, a ripe, juicy cherry on top.
She wanted another bite. And another. And another.
But she’d agreed to one night.
How could one go back to ordinary sustenance every day after she’d tasted something so scrumptious?
She eyed Rob’s naked body. Scrumptious indeed. How had she once thought he looked like Benjamin Bratt? She bet Ben didn’t look this good on his best day. Although after her Jane Millionaire experience, she had a totally different perspective of “Law and Order”.
“Why don’t you have an accent?” she asked before she could think better of it.
Rob shifted next to her, his muscles tensing. “What do you mean?”
“When I first met you, I expected you to have a Hispanic accent. It surprised me when all I heard was pure Californian charm. Was I wrong in thinking you had a Latino heritage?”
He inhaled and took his time before answering. “My father was Puerto Rican, but he wasn’t part of my life. Left before I was out of diapers and I haven’t seen him since. My mom was what I guess is of mixed European descent, the good old melting pot put into effect. Other than having grown up in East L.A. in a mostly Mexican population, there isn’t any reason why I’d have an accent.”
“So you do speak Spanish?”
He laughed and pitched his thumb and index finger together. “Un poquito. You couldn’t get by in the neighborhood I grew up in without knowing a little, but my mother always insisted upon English being spoken. Because of my father, I think.”
“You said was when you spoke of her.” She hated asking, but she wanted to know more, to understand this man who had come to mean so much to her in such a short amount of time.
His body coiled with tension. “She died right before I turned eighteen.”
Which would have been right before he married. “I’m sorry, Rob.”
“Me, too. She was a wonderful woman and mother.”
Ah, there was just something totally cool about a man who loved his mama. Jill grieved his loss, the knowledge that she’d never meet the remarkable woman who’d given birth to and raised Rob. “Did she remarry after your father left?”
“No, to my knowledge she never even went on the first date after he ran out on us. There wasn’t enough time for her to date.” His hold tightened and Jill winced. She’d stumbled onto a subject she should have left alone.
Why did she always have to push further? To ask one more question?
“I’m sorry. It’s the badge. I just have to ask whatever pops into my mind.” She attempted to smooth things over. Under no circumstances did she want to lose this warmth between them.
“It’s okay.” He rolled onto his side to face her. “Like I said earlier, you’re an amazing woman.”
Oh my. Her cheeks blazed. “Okay, then, finish telling me about you.”
He chuckled, but she didn’t pick up on any real humor.
“Me?” His expression turned thoughtful and she wondered if he thought she’d gone too far by asking for personal information. “I guess you could say I’m one of the lucky ones. As I mentioned, I grew up on the poor side of L.A. Mom worked all the time trying to support my brother and I. There were days we barely saw her, but she did her best to make sure we had the things we needed and finished school.”
“You have a brother?” she interrupted.
“Yeah, Ben’s a year older than me.”
Ben? His brother’s name was Ben? She stifled a grin. Last name hadn’t been changed to Bratt, had it?
“I went to Hollywood. He went to Uncle Sam, suppose
dly for four years, but he keeps reenlisting. He’s one of those true blue military guys.” Rob’s gaze grew nostalgic, and Jill got the impression he and his brother had been very close while growing up. Something told her Rob missed that closeness.
“Sounds like a neat guy.”
“Oh, he is. Never a dull moment with Ben around.” He shook his head, laughing. “As I was saying, I went to Hollywood with big dreams. At fifteen, I lied about my age and worked on one of the construction crews for a film JP produced. He needed a stand-in for an actor who failed to show and picked me. Not sure how one thing led to another, but JP took me under his wing and helped me land a few more roles. Money was rolling in. I moved Mom to a big house a year before she died.”
He grew quiet for a few moments and Jill bit her tongue, refusing to ask the questions running through her mind.
“One day,” he finally continued. “I mentioned I planned to write, direct, and produce my own show to JP. He laughed and told me to tell him all about it. I did, and he made it happen.”
“Wow. That’s amazing.” JP had been more of a dad to Rob than his biological father. “So you’ve known JP for most of your life.”
“Yes.” Rob’s face turned sour. “My show didn’t hit the ratings it should thanks to my ex-wife’s interference. We were having marital problems at the time. I’d asked her for a divorce shortly into the first season, the only season, and she used the show as a backdrop for her tantrums.” He turned thoughtful. “But the show got my name out as a director, and one thing led to another until here I am in Europe. With you.”
“I’m glad,” she admitted, snuggling closer, and squelching her curiosity about his ex-wife. The woman must have been an idiot to let Rob go. To have wanted any other man when she’d had Rob.
“About?”
“That you’re here with me.” She touched his face, tracing the strong planes. “So very glad.”
“Just for one night, Jill. Tomorrow we both forget tonight ever happened, and we go about our lives, separately,” he reminded.
She bit back a gulp. “You’re sure that’s what you want?”
His eyes closed. “It’s what has to happen.”
