She felt his lips curve into a smile as he transferred his ministrations to her other breast. Not stinting in the least, he lavished her willing flesh with the same degree of blissful attention. At length, he slowed, drawing upon her with a last, lingering pull before levering himself away.
Instantly, she was bereft and reached to bring him back.
But she needn't have worried, his broad, skillful hands moving to peel away her gown, stays, and petticoats with calm, simple efficiency. Once he was done, her stockings and lacy garters were all that remained to shield her from his view-leaving her with absolutely no protection at all.
His azure eyes gleamed, turning an even more intense shade of blue, as he raked her with his gaze. Surveying her body in a leisurely downward sweep, he studied every inch of her form. When he reached the spot where her fiery triangle of curls met the apex of her thighs, he paused before continuing his amorous perusal all the way down to her feet.
Abruptly, she became self-conscious, lowering her arms across her body and bending her knees in a concealing half-curl.
"Ah, sweetheart, don't turn shy on me now," he admonished in a mild tone. "I assure you, you have absolutely nothing to hide. Quite the contrary, in point of fact."
Laying a palm on her stocking-clad ankle, he roved upward with a light, tensile glide. "I can't tell you the number of times I've dreamed of seeing these legs."
Her eyes widened. "You have?"
"Oh, yes. I've fantasized endlessly, dying to know just how shapely they are and exactly how far up they go." Reaching the bare strip of skin above her silken garter, he stopped and smiled. "I am overjoyed to note that they do go up-way, way up. You are gorgeous, even more so than I expected."
Her lips quivered on a tremulous breath. "So, you're pleased?"
Something darkened in his gaze. "Yes, very much. Now let me please you in return."
She didn't know precisely what he intended, but he moved quickly to demonstrate by sliding his hand sideways. Warm as toast, and darker-hued than her own pale white skin, his strong fingers spread outward against the delicate flesh of her inner thighs. The sight of him touching her there was dramatic-a powerful contrast of male to female. But because she still had her legs locked together, he could go no farther. Ever so gently, he traced the seam between her thighs.
"Open up," he murmured.
Her pulse sprang into a frantic rhythm.
"Open your legs, Grace. I promise you won't be sorry."
She hesitated, her heart pounding like a relentless fist beneath her breasts. Slowly, aware she was literally laying herself bare to him, she did as he asked.
His lips curved with approval. "God, you're lovely. Now, just a little more."
More?
She didn't think she could manage. But somehow she found the courage. Emboldened once again by the carnal appreciation she saw in his gaze, she spread her legs wider.
And then he touched her there.
She gasped, her eyes falling shut at the devastating sensation of his fingertips teasing her nether curls. Stroking her with light, glancing touches, he delved beyond, gliding along her sleek folds as he gradually explored.
She grew wet in a way that ought to have mortified her. But Jack appeared to find nothing amiss, so why should she? If anything, her body seemed eager to aid him, his fingers rubbing with a slippery friction that made her thoughts scatter to the four winds.
Then she couldn't speak or think at all, her hands bunching in the fabric of the counterpane, as pleasure wove through her like the tendrils of a wild, rapacious vine. He speared a single finger into her, making her shudder and arch.
She bit her lip to keep from crying out, but he wouldn't let her stay silent.
"Do you like this. Yes?" he coaxed.
"Y-yes."
"Tell me where to touch you next."
But she couldn't speak, rolling her head on the pillows instead.
"Here?" His thumb circled in a lazy glide. "Or perhaps you prefer this spot?"
"Oohh," she gasped aloud, perspiration breaking out over her skin.
///
"What about now?" He added a second finger, filling her more than she thought she could stand. Yet it felt right. Exactly right. She groaned, craving more.
"Maybe this."
He slid higher to caress some hidden nub of flesh. Need swamped her, burning like a raging fire.
Relentless, he scissored his fingers inside her. Open, then closed, then open again. "Shall I stop?"
"No!" she sobbed, abandoning all caution or control.
Then suddenly he did everything at once-circling and scissoring and rubbing. The combination proved too much, bliss crashing over her in a dark, merciless wave.
Her senses went flying, whirling as thoughts and emotions tumbled through her with an intensity that made her earlier intoxication seem as nothing. She felt drunk. Drunk and delirious, glowing from a surfeit of delight that was humming like bottled lightning in her system.
Good God, she thought, no wonder women beg to be in his bed. No wonder they're willing to risk everything for even a taste of this. Of him.
She barely had a chance to catch her breath before he began again, caressing her with a deep, intimate massage that instantly ignited her desire. Need swamped her, building so fast it was all she could do to hang on and hope she didn't shatter before he brought her to release again. She was poised on the edge, held in the grip of a hunger so strong she was shaking from the force of it.
Then, with no warning at all, he stopped and moved away. For a second, his withdrawal made no sense, her body throbbing with a savage intensity that demanded satisfaction. "Jack?" she called, rising up slightly on her elbows. "What are you doing?"
"Disrobing," he told her as he climbed from the bed. "Not to worry. I will be back to pleasure you in a trice."
"You'd better be," she said without considering her words.
He chuckled at her candor, his nimble fingers moving to open the buttons on his waistcoat, shirt and pantaloons.
She watched him with brazen interest, reclining against the pillows as he revealed inch by delicious inch of hard masculine flesh. The sight of him made her giddy. He was better than any Grecian sculpture she'd ever seen-long and tall where he should be, broad across the shoulders, but equally narrow at the hips. Muscles flexed beneath his superb physique, powerful bone and sinew covered by taut, supple skin. A dusting of short dark hair grew on his powerful legs and across his elegant forearms. His chest was covered by a heavier thatch of nearly black hair. A line of it tapered downward across his flat stomach, then all but disappeared, before flaring out again around his groin.
It was this last part of him that fixed her attention most completely. From the instant he stripped off his pantaloons and drawers, she couldn't look away. Without conscious awareness, she riveted her gaze on his swollen shaft, taking note of its rampant length and girth. He paused for a few moments-hands on his hips as if he were letting her study him.
"You don't look anything like Terrence," she said, not realizing she'd said the words aloud until they were already out of her mouth.
He quirked a brow. "I believe I shall take that as a compliment."
She nodded in agreement, marveling at the fact that until today she had never even seen a naked man-much less three of them. But then she had no more time to ponder such matters as Jack padded forward on bare feet.
Her nipples stiffened to hard points, need throbbing inside her with a wrenching ache as he bent a knee upon the bed and came down beside her. He took her in his arms, making her tremble at the hot slide of his naked skin against hers.
"You'll have to show me what to do," she whispered, shy once more as she met his gaze.
"Don't worry." His lips brushed lightly across hers. "We'll take everything as slowly as you need."
Reassured, she curved her arms around his neck and gladly gave herself up to his kiss. He claimed her mouth in a languid joining that was as sultry as it was sublime, her nerve endings igniting like kindling set to a flame once again.
His hands resumed their earlier wandering, each caress heightening her passion, every stroke leaving her hungering for more. Something hard and insistent pressed against her stomach. With surprise, she realized it must be his erection.
Stroking a palm over his shoulder and back, she slid gradually downward, growing bold enough to roam as far as his waist. But she couldn't muster the courage to go lower, her fingers flexing ineffectually against his hip.
"You can touch me if you like," he said, breaking off their kiss to nuzzle the underside of her ear. His tongue darted out, lapping at a spot that sent quivers whizzing through her system like champagne bubbles gone out of control. "Touch me anywhere, Grace," he encouraged in a husky tone. "Let those hands of yours run wild."