Seduced by His Touch(23)

       
           


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Emboldened, she skimmed her fingers across his buttocks, feeling the  muscles clench in response, then onward to the top of his thigh, finding  it just a bit rough with hair. Then, before she had time to talk  herself out of the impulse, she reached for his shaft and encircled him  with her fingers.

A harsh groan issued from his throat.

She stiffened and began to withdraw, but he stopped her with a hand,  forcing her fingers to stay where they were. "Stroke me," he said.  "Please."

Trembling, she hesitated just a moment more, then did as he wished.

The feel of him was astonishing, hard and thick, yet covered with a skin  as sleek and smooth as velvet. She glided up his length, then down,  pausing at the last to brush a curious thumb across the tip. His shaft  jumped in her palm, Jack releasing another throaty moan.

"Harder," he said. "Stroke me harder."

And she did, caressing him with increasing confidence while he massaged  her breasts and took her mouth in a savage kiss. As she opened her lips  wide, he slid his tongue inside, licking and lapping, then thrusting in  and out in time to the movements of her hand.

He kissed her until she was dizzy, her grip gradually weakening on him  as he drowned her in a tide of pleasure. Rolling her to her back, he  used his knees to spread her legs apart and fit himself between.  Crushing her lips to his, he moved her hand away, then positioned  himself and thrust inside her body.

She tensed against the intrusion, his size stretching her to the point  of pain. Her cry reverberated against his mouth, and he stopped, his  chest rising and falling against hers as he rested on top of her.

"Give it a few moments. It'll get easier," he murmured.

Will it? she wondered, rather doubting his words. He was large, her body gripping him like a too-tight glove.

Then he began to move again.

Her panic increased when she realized he was barely inside her, despite  the agonizing sensation of fullness. She remained motionless, her pain  intensifying as he forced himself deeper inside.

Finally, he was all the way in.

Only then did she sense the tension in him, his muscles quivering from  the strain of holding himself back. A hand on the back of her thigh  urged her to lift her legs and wrap them around his waist. She did, the  shift in position lodging him even deeper. Yet oddly enough, her  discomfort lessened, the pain receding as her body adjusted to his  penetration.

How peculiar, she thought, to have that part of him inside her. How  incredibly close. Intimate in a way she had never truly imagined two  people could be.

Slowly, he began to thrust, and her thoughts drifted away like tufts of dandelion fluff caught in a rough wind.

"Better?" he questioned in a gravelly voice.

Reaching up, she captured his mouth in a fervid kiss and gave him all the answer he needed.

In and out he went. In and out, over and over again until sparks of her  earlier desire began to rekindle. He kissed her-long, wet, open-mouthed  kisses that stole her breath, even as the vigorous movements of his hips  turned her liquid and wanton with need.

She cried out, only this time not in pain, but in longing. Digging her  heels into his buttocks, she urged him onward, clasping him to her with a  sudden desperation she was helpless to resist.

Arching, she bounded upward to meet him, to take him as far and fast as  her body would allow. Keening sounds came from her mouth, moans she  barely recognized as her own as she gripped him harder. She remembered  him saying something once about liking to ride, and suddenly she knew  what he'd meant.

He was riding her-and it was sheer heaven.

Opening herself fully to him, she surrendered everything that she was,  giving him her body and her mind. As for her heart, he possessed that  already, love swelling within her as she clasped him tight and waited  for all the pleasures yet to come.

She wasn't prepared when the crisis claimed her not long after, ecstasy  rippling through her bones and blood and flesh until all that remained  was a sensation of pure, unadulterated bliss. She glowed-beyond rapture,  beyond speech. Then, she was spinning once again, with Jack her only  lifeline.

Barely coherent, she continued to float as he thrust inside her-pumping  harder and deeper and faster. Abruptly he grew rigid, his body quaking  violently as he claimed his release with an echoing groan of  satisfaction.

For long moments, they lay locked in each other's arms, neither  seemingly capable of movement. With breath and sanity finally returning,  he shifted, rolling onto his back before drawing her once more into his  arms.

Snuggling against him, she let her eyes drift closed. "It's still early yet, is it not?" she mumbled. "We never had our dinner."

"Dinner will wait," he said, soothing her with a hand. "For now, you should sleep."                       
       
           


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With her eyelids like leaden weights, she took his advice and let herself sink into oblivion.





Chapter 11





Grace squinted against the light and raised a hand to shield her eyes as she burrowed deeper into the pillows.

"Oww," she groaned, before grimacing in pain, even that slight amount of sound too much for her already aching head.

Lie still, she warned herself in a silent whisper. Don't move and maybe the agony will go away.

But even thinking seemed to hurt, her head throbbing in violent beats between her ears.

"Here. Drink this," said a quiet voice.

Drink what? Is that Jack speaking? What is Jack doing in my bedroom?

"Do you think you can sit up?" he asked.

No! Absolutely not. Couldn't he tell how miserable she was, unable to  even lift her head off the pillow, much less sit up and drink something.  Besides, she'd already drunk far too much last night. Her stomach  lurched at the notion. The tom-toms in her head beat harder.

"Come on, sweetheart," he said. "Here, let me help you."

He set something down on the night table with a clink that reverberated  as loudly as a blacksmith's hammer striking an anvil. She held back a  groan, knowing she dare not react for fear of jarring loose some vital  organ-her brain, for instance. Before she could prevent him, Jack  slipped an arm around her recumbent form and levered her upright.

"Aaagh!" she cried, gripping her head with both hands to keep it from rolling off her neck.

"Shh," he crooned. "You'll feel better once you get this in you."

Squinting, she peered at the glass that had appeared again inside his  hand. The concoction looked revolting, with a color somewhere between  yellow and grey. "What is it?" she whispered.

"Hair of the dog."

"Dog!" Fresh pain jarred the inside of her skull.

He laughed.

"Oooh, don't." She waved a hand to hush him.

"Sorry," he said, lowering his voice again.

"None for me," she whispered. "I'll just lie down again."

"Oh no, you don't," he admonished, holding her against him. "First, you have to drink."

"Not if it has dog hair in it." Her stomach did a somersault.

"It's only an expression. Drink."

"That's what you said last night, and look where it's gotten me." The drums beat harder again.

"So now I'm here with the cure."

"I don't want-"

"The sooner you get it down, the sooner you'll be better."

Better? How can that disgusting concoction possibly make me feel better?  Though at the moment, she felt so dreadful she supposed anything would  be an improvement.

Letting him press the cool glass into her hand, she gave the beverage  another skeptical look. Losing her courage, she tried to pass it back.  "I can't."

He pressed it toward her again. "Down fast. Drink and don't think."

"Did you make that up?"

"Friend of mine. Go on."

Grimacing, she drew a steadying breath and took a swallow. "Ugh," she said, breaking off on a near gag. "That's vile."

"All of it."

"No."

"Do it, Grace. Drink and don't think."

She sent him a nasty look. "I hate you."

He smiled and stroked her hair. "Last night you said you loved me."

And so she had, she realized, bits of the evening flashing in her mind.  Pushing the memories aside for now, she raised the glass again. Drink  and don't think.

She gulped the brew as quickly as possible, her stomach bucking and  lurching with each and every swallow. When she was done, she shoved the  glass at him and gasped for breath. "Oh, my God, I think I'm going to be  sick."

"Give it a minute."

Leaning back against the mound of pillows he'd somehow found time to  stack behind her when she wasn't looking, she closed her eyes and prayed  for death. Her stomach churned again, her head throbbing as if an  orchestra were playing a symphony inside.

Jack left but quickly returned, his weight depressing the feather mattress as he sat down next to her.