“You need to rest.”
Mischief twinkled in her eyes when she raised them to look at him. “I like how you feel inside me. I was just experimenting.”
“You’re going to be sore. We can experiment more in a little while.”
She licked his nipple and giggled when he gasped at the unexpected bolt of sensation. “Promise?”
He squeezed both her butt cheeks and whispered, “Promise,” even as he failed to keep from thrusting into the silky heat of her cunt. He wanted her again, but he wanted her to have time to recover, too.
That’s why your dick is still buried to the hilt inside of her, right?
The thought made him thrust again, and he groaned when she tugged at him with those wickedly tempting pussy muscles of hers. She couldn’t possibly have any idea how fucking good that felt.
The memory of thrusting into her resisting body stilled his movements though. It had to have been very painful for her. He’d prepared her as much as he could, knowing that getting it over with would be the only thing to do. Her tight flesh resisting and then finally giving in to him had been the most humbling and exhilarating sexual experience he’d ever had. His resolve to not thrust again strengthened. Instead, he petted and stroked up and down her back, just enjoying the sensation of having her all over him.
A little while later, he finally withdrew and rose from the bed. He went to the bathroom for a washcloth and was a little appalled at how much blood he had to clean from his groin area. He returned with a clean, warm washcloth and gently did the same for her. She opened her eyes and smiled at him and shook her head when he asked if it still hurt.
She made a sound that reminded him of a kitten purring contentedly when he returned to the bed and climbed in beside her, tucking her to his side. She snuggled closer and draped one thigh over his. He felt humbled by her trust.
Thoroughly unwelcome, the memory of Tamar’s last words to him came to mind. He wondered again why thoughts of her kept cropping up and assumed it was because Jayne was so different from her.
Though it had been good for his career, Seth wished that he’d never traveled overseas with Tamar. His teacher, Jim Durbin, insisted that life offered good with the bad and he should get the value from that time in his life and forget about the rest. Life had taken on an unreal quality while he was there with her. Their social life, or rather her social life, had gotten out of hand.
By the time he was done with the whole mess, he’d longed for a less complicated and jaded life. With this angelic woman snuggled guilelessly in his arms, he felt like that might be possible.
* * * *
Seth bolted upright and awake, his panting sounding unimaginably loud in the dark, unfamiliar bedroom. For a moment he was disoriented and filled with horror, thinking he was back on the outskirts of Paris, having unknowingly participated in some drunken orgy or far worse. As his eyes adjusted and reality set in, he recognized Jayne’s bedroom.
The moonlight shone through the window blinds, illuminating her dresser, the antique washstand in the corner, the night table, and her twisted bed linens. Reclining on her back beside him, Jayne slept peacefully. He closed his eyes and pressed his lips together, saying a silent prayer of thanks.
The sight of Jayne, relaxed in somnolence, helped to dispel the recurrent nightmare. He watched as her chest rose and fell in the dim light, one hand lying across her dark hair, which was spread in wild disarray on her pillow, stray locks caressing her cheeks and forehead. Her other hand lay palm down across her upper thigh, right beside her mound, which was covered by the edge of the sheet. Her rosy nipples were peaked, and his hands itched to caress her full breasts. His cock tingled with interest, but he’d ignore it as long as he could before waking her to make love to her again.
Since he was wide awake, he went in search of something to draw with. If he was going to be up for a while, the least he could do was make good use of his time. When he’d found what he needed, he returned to her bedroom, quietly moving the chair in the corner to a spot near the window so he could see what he was drawing. The angle was even better from this point, and he set to work quickly before she shifted in her sleep. After getting the basic lines on the page, he reached out and cautiously tugged at the top sheet, inching it down without waking her until it reached her knee.
Perfect.
The moonlight caressed the length of her thigh and the curve of her hip. The partially finished tattoo he drew as it was, with just the outlines of the roses, vines, and swirls completed. Her smooth belly was indented by the slight shadow of her navel. He longed to test the satiny firmness of the underside of her breasts even as he drew them, imagining the way the swells would give against his knuckles if he brushed them lightly. Her breathing hitched in her sleep, and her nipples peaked more tightly.