Wildstar

by Nicole Jordan

  Hesitantly, with increasing boldness, she let her gaze drop lower, to fasten on the swollen shaft at his groin. He was fully aroused, his splendid erection blatant, powerful, beautifully formed. The sight of that masculine flesh that could give such wild, wild pleasure sent Jessica's pulse rate soaring, while the thought of having that rigid fullness thrusting inside her, filling her, made her hot all over.

  Suddenly becoming aware of her lustful thoughts, she swallowed the rest of her croissant and resumed her bath, soaping herself all over. A bottle of shampoo scented with lemon sat beside the tub, and she used it to wash her hair.

  She had just finished ducking her head under the water to rinse out the suds when Devlin carried a pitcher of fresh warm water over to her. Having him so near, so naked, had a devastating effect on her senses. She couldn't seem to move. And he was watching her, his eyes filled with an intimate fire. She submitted to his lazy scrutiny with a shiver of excitement.

  He knelt beside the tub and slowly poured the contents of the pitcher over her hair, his fingers kneading the re­maining soap from her wet tresses, gently plying her scalp. Jess closed her eyes, nearly melting at his tenderness.

  His magical fingers drifted across her face and throat and shoulders, then lower, to cup and fondle her bare breasts. She drew a sharp breath and came totally awake, her lashes lifting.

  "I get to finish washing you." He gave her a slow smile that held so much sexual charm it made her tremble. "You neglected a few spots," he explained, his thumbs making lazy circles over the sensitive buds.

  Jess clenched her teeth, wondering how long she could bear such sweet torment, but Devlin remained unhurried, taking his time, his fingers smoothing, skimming over the slick wet flesh. Finally, he scooped up a handful of water and let it dribble over her breasts. Then, his hands curling around her upper arms, holding her still, he leaned for­ward.

  She inhaled a sharp breath as he captured a tight, hurt­ing nipple and drew it into his mouth, sending a streak of heat arrowing straight to the feminine hollow between her thighs, and dredging a hushed moan from her throat. Help­lessly, Jess arched her back, letting him have his way.

  His tongue swirled and lapped, tasting, teasing, torment­ing her nipples till they throbbed with a pleasure so intense it was almost painful. Jess was softly panting by the time he finally drew back and got to his feet.

  "Stand up, sweetheart, will you?"

  She didn't know if it was possible. Weakly, Jess un­folded her long legs and tried to stand, clutching at him for support. When she started to step from the tub, though, Devlin forestalled her.

  "No, stay. You're not even halfway finished, love."

  Her eyes widened as he stepped into the tub and settled himself in her place. Then turning Jess so that she faced away from him, he drew her down, her back to him, her hips cradled by his hard thighs. The position was a bit cramped, and the higher water level lapped at the tub's rim, but Jess couldn't find the slightest desire to protest. She lay back obediently, resting her head in the curve of her husband's shoulder.

  "I wanted to do this two months ago," Devlin said in her ear, in a voice that was velvet-smooth and husky. "Ev­ery time I took a bath at your house, I'd think of you in the water with me and get hard."

  "Really, you did? You'd think of me?"

  "Every time. And get hard." He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her bottom closer, very deliberately letting her feel precisely what he meant. "See what you do to me, sweet?"

  Jess could hardly breathe, let alone give him a reply. He was moving his hips against her softly, stroking the velvet-sheathed hardness of his arousal against her buttocks. "But . . . you didn't want . . . to make love to me that first time when we were trapped in the Wildstar," she managed to get out.

  "You're wrong, angel. I wanted you so much I hurt with it." His hand moved up to cup the swelling weight of her breast, making Jess tense.

  "Then why . . . did you make me beg you?"

  "Because, love, I was trying to be a gentleman. Where I come from, a man doesn't seduce a young lady he doesn't plan to marry." As if to apologize, his other hand glided downward over her body, his lean fingers spreading to stroke her taut, flat belly.

  "You didn't want . . . to marry me___ "

  "Not at first. I didn't want to marry anyone." His fin­gers reached lower, to tangle in the wet curls between her thighs; every muscle in her body tightened. "But I changed my mind when I realized how much I loved you. Just relax, sweetheart. I'm going to show you how to re­ally enjoy a bath."

  Relax? That was physically impossible, Jess thought, and so was further speech. Any ability she might have had for a coherent conversation fled as Devlin pressed against the moist cleft, withdrew slightly, and pressed again.

  Her hips arched at his sensual caress, and her damp quivering thighs opened to him. Immediately, his fingers thrust inside her, stroking, sliding, moving in a slow, be­witching rhythm, leisurely plying the swollen, aching folds of her flesh.

  He ignored the soft, keening moans she gave, the fin­gers of one hand massaging the slick hot satin flesh be­ween her thighs to his ruthless satisfaction; the other hand stroking her jutting breasts, pulling and caressing her nip­ples, the hard thumb pressing and releasing; his tongue swirling around the shell of her ear, thrusting within, mim­icking what his magical fingers were doing elsewhere.

  Jess writhed in abandoned surrender; she couldn't stop. She whimpered Devlin's name on a strangled moan, but that only made him quicken his rhythm as he stroked her to climax.

  He smiled in satisfaction as the trembling, sexually aroused woman he held came apart in his arms. Her lush body jerked in liquid, mindless shudders, splashing bathwater all over the elegant carpet, but Devlin simply tightened his hold, not letting her go, delighting in the pas­sion that flushed her skin and made her breathing harsh.

  The tremors of her body faded away slowly. Limp, pli­ant, satiated, Jess lay there languorously, unmoving. The racking pleasure had exhausted her.

  "Jess?"

  "Mmmm?"

  "Are you going to sleep on me?" "No . . . just taking a rest."

  His lips curved in a molasses-slow, contented smile. "Think you could find the energy to give your husband a bath?"

  Husband, she thought with a blissful glow of happiness that warmed her all over. Her eyelashes fluttered open.

  Unhurriedly, he turned her over to face him, spreading her knees on either side of his hips to straddle his thighs. Not surprisingly, the hot, hungry look in his smoky gray eyes made Jess's tiredness vanish, her body come alive again.

  The silky hair on his chest abraded her sensitive breasts as she sat up. She could feel the stiffness of his powerful shaft against her stomach, hard and long and ready.

  "Garrett? Do you want me to . . ." She blushed at the question she couldn't bring herself to ask.

  "Not yet. I want this to last. Wash my hair first," he commanded softly.

  Her senses humming with anticipation, Jess obeyed. She made it into a ritual: slowly soaping his hair . . . sensually massaging his scalp with her fingers . . . meticulously rins­ing away the suds . . . attending Devlin with the same de­votion he had shown her. All the while she sat astride him brazenly, in nearly the most intimate way possible, with his heavy shaft brushing tantalizingly against her feminin­ity every time she made the slightest movement. The scent of lemon surrounded her, blending with intense sexual aware-ness to caress and arouse her senses to a fever pitch.

  His muscles coiled and rippled under her hands as she carried her ministrations further, to include his shoulders and arms and chest. It was a joy, being able to touch Dev­lin freely this way, to run her hands over his sleek skin, the hard contours of his body. And yet all she began to think about was whether he would put an end to the hot restless longing that was swelling again inside her, when he would ease the throbbing ache between her thighs.

  Unable to bear it any longer, she let her hands move lower to skim tentatively over his
taut abdomen . . . to en­circle the thick, rigid fullness that was taunting her with the promise of fulfillment.

  Devlin's entire body clenched, and he gave a low groan that vibrated with pleasure—but still he did nothing to hasten the moment.

  "Garrett . . . please . . . I want you. . . ."

  His hands came to her hips then. In a single powerful motion, he raised her up and held her poised over his jut­ting arousal.

  Then, his bright, hot eyes holding hers intently, he low­ered her slowly upon his rigid, throbbing length, his entry sensual, tormenting, exquisite as he pulled her down and around him.

  Jess exhaled a shuddering breath, her eyes closing in ecstasy.

  His body completely still, Devlin held her there, im­paled on his erection, filling her but not allowing her ful­fillment. A tremor quivered through Jess, resonating outward, upward, from her very center, moving with ach­ing intensity throughout her entire body. Helplessly, she shuddered and rocked against him.

  "No . . . easy, take it slow, angel." His fingers tightened on her hips, staying her motion with a strength that only made her desire sharper. "We have all the time in the world." He leaned back, closing his eyes, his face tighten­ing as if in pain. "Oh, God, this is so good. . . ."

  Jess agreed with all her heart, and yet his demand that she go slowly was impossible to obey. Clinging to Dev­lin, she shut her eyes and tried to stop the quivering explo­sion she felt building inside her, but it was like trying to hold back one of the devastating flash floods that swept down the Rocky Mountain canyons in a storm. The torrent of desire was too strong, her need too savage.

  "Garrett . . . !" His name on her lips was a gasped plea. Her muscles clenched around him involuntarily, gripping the hard, pulsing length of him.

  His hands clamped down hard on her hips, trying to hold back, but he was losing his maddening control, she could feel it. His fading willpower gave her a fierce sen­sation of triumph, of joy.

  With a final effort at restraint, his strong hands gripped her buttocks, holding her close as he swelled upward into her lush heat. But it was the beginning of the end for Jess. She rode him helplessly as he moved, unable to contain the frenzied passion that swept through her in a tremen­dous rush.

  "Jess." The word, a harsh sound ripped from deep in­side him, mingled with her keening, incoherent cry. The sweet, tearing burst of light and heat shuddering through her had caught Devlin in its power.

  He shut his eyes against the wild delirium, the incred­ible, staggering pleasure, as he arched deep into her. Noth­ing in his previous, vast carnal experience had prepared him for the impossible ecstasy he felt at this moment, at the wild, flame-hot consummation of his marriage to the woman he loved. He never wanted it to end.

  The explosive climax did end, of course; it was physi­cally impossible to maintain such a shattering peak of de­sire at such a fierce intensity. And yet long after Jess had collapsed in his arms, melting around him, their harsh breaths mingling, the pleasure remained, a slow, pulsing golden glow that surrounded him with warmth.

  Some long while later—neither of them could have said when—sanity returned. Jess was lying draped over him like a rug, her face buried in the curve of his throat, while Devlin lay quietly beneath her, his head thrown back, his eyes closed.

  When she started to stir, though, his fingers tightened on her hips. "No . . . hold still. I want to feel you around me."

  The water had grown cold and she was half asleep be­fore Devlin finally allowed her to move. He lifted Jess to her feet and lovingly dried her off, then carried her to the bed.

  "Garrett, was it all right?" she asked as he tucked her

  in.

  "Was what all right, sweet?" "Making love to me?"

  The tenderness that entered his eyes reassured her. "It was far better than all right. Jess. It was . . ." Settling one hip on the mattress beside her, he searched for a word that could adequately describe the fierce feelings that had flowed through him when he'd taken her the first time as her husband. The shattering climax had been heightened, intensified, nearly tearing him apart. This woman—his wife, the woman he loved—had touched a part of him that he'd never known existed.

  "It was exquisite," he said simply, honestly.

  "But . . . I don't have any experience."

  "You gave me something I consider far more precious, Jess . . . your love. That more than makes up for any tech­nical skill you might lack." With a gentle solemnity, Dev­lin's hand came up to trace the delicate outline of her jaw. "Do you know what I used to dream about? That someday I would have a woman like you to love me as loyally as you loved your father. To stick by me through thick and thin, to cherish me for myself, not the size of my bank ac­count."

  Her gaze softening with love, Jess turned her face to press her lips to his palm. "I'll stick by you, Garrett, with or without your bank account."

  "I don't doubt that in the slightest, angel. You're a spe­cial kind of woman."

  He leaned down to press a chaste kiss on her forehead, but instead of joining her in bed, he stood up.

  Drowsily, her eyebrows drew together in a frown. "Are you going somewhere?"

  "No. I just want to lower the window shades."

  Efficiently, he took care of the task, shutting out the bright fall sunshine and cloaking the hotel room in semi-darkness. Just as he was about to return to the bed, how­ever, a quiet knock sounded on the door.

  Biting back an oath, Devlin pulled on a dressing gown, then strode impatiently to the door and yanked it open just a crack.

  "My excuses, m'sieur," Louis Dupuy said, "but a tele­gram has come for you. I thought you would wish to see it, since it is marked 'urgent.' "

  "Thank you, Louis."

  Accepting the telegram, Devlin shut the door and began to read.

  No longer sleepy, Jess sat up in bed, clutching the cov­ers to her breasts. "Is something wrong?"

  "No," Devlin said dryly. "It's just my father demanding attention, as usual. I had Clem wire him about our mar­riage, and this is his answer. C.E. welcomes you into the Devlin family, by the way."

  Devlin returned to the bed and handed her the telegram. As he shrugged out of his dressing gown, Jess tried to read in the dim light. It was indeed the senior Devlin's polite congratulations on his son's marriage and, surprisingly, a warmly worded welcome to Jessica. But there was an ad­ditional cryptic message at the end that read, "Will send marble tub next week. Stop. Signed, C.E."

  "What does this mean, 'Will send marble tub'?" Jess asked as Devlin climbed into bed beside her and arranged the covers over them both.

  "My father intends to give us a bathtub for a wedding present."

  "A bathtub?"

  "I told him you had a fetish for hot water and bath salts."

  "You told your father I wanted a bathtub? Good Lord, what will he think of me?"

  "Correction, angel." Facing her, Devlin draped his arm possessively over her rib cage, beneath her breasts. "I told him we wanted a bathtub—and that was all we wanted from him. And truthfully, I don't give a damn what he thinks of you. You married me, not the Devlin family."

  His grim tone told Jess very clearly she had struck a nerve. "It sounds like you don't much care for your fa­ther."

  Devlin gave a soft grunt of agreement. "He's a manip­ulative bastard who could run circles around Burke. You'd like him as little as you like Burke."

  "I don't dislike Burke so much anymore. I can't forgive everything he's done, but it's hard to hold the past against him when he's trying to change. Besides, if it weren't for him, I would never have known you. It was because of Burke that I hired you."

  Devlin's mouth curved in a smile. Sliding down a bit farther, he pressed his naked body closer and nuzzled his lips in the curve of her throat. "I suppose I can't be too upset with my father, either. He was the reason I came to Silver Plume."

  "Oh. In that case, I think I could kiss him."

  Devlin tensed at her comment. "Don't you dare even think a
bout it."

  Jess was curious. "Would you be jealous?"

  In answer, Devlin raised his head and gave her a hard kiss. "I'll tell you about my father and his women, some­time. But not now. We have better things to do." Slipping his hand between their bodies, he ran his palm provoca­tively down the silken length of her thigh, then slowly up again, to press suggestively against the threshold of her femininity.

  "Aren't . . . you sleepy yet?" she murmured breathlessly, surprised at his stamina. He had been up all night, battling a raging fire.

  The tender light in Devlin's eyes was a potent mingling of amusement and hunger. "Exhausted, but I don't feel it. Do you?"

  "No," Jess answered honestly, distracted by his bold fin­gers.

  "Good. We can sleep later. At the moment I intend to convince you just how much I want you."

  With a love-dazed smile, Jessica threaded her arms around her handsome husband's neck and drew his head down. "I think I may need a lot of convincing. You've told me more than once than I'm stubborn."

  Devlin's low, sensual chuckle whispered tantalizingly against her lips. "It will be my pleasure, Mrs. Devlin."