Shadowdance(116)

He knew her so well that he paused as if sensing her conflicting thoughts. A bead of sweat trickled down his temple. Braced above her, the muscles along his shoulders and arms twitched with restraint, but his eyes held hers, gentleness and understanding there. He eased back and then touched her temple, tenderly brushing back a lock of damp hair. “Is it because I’m on top of you?”

She gave a brusque nod, her throat closing painfully. In the silence he studied her. “You like it when I crowd you against a wall, though, don’t you?” It was a decadent whisper, filled with promise, and she shivered. Of course he knew she did. He’d scented her desire.

And, as if he scented it once more, a slow, playful smile pulled at his mouth. “Come.” Lightly he tugged at her hand, drawing her from the bed with a rustle of the covers. Mary was momentarily dumbfounded as he unfolded his long length and the firelight glowed upon his skin. He was massive, a study of flat, hard planes, long vistas of undulating muscle, networks of tight sinews. And his hot gaze roamed over her as though he might soon gobble her up.

Slowly he backed her up until her shoulders met the cool wall. Eyes on her, he leaned in, bracing his arms on either side of her, surrounding her with his warmth and power. She didn’t know why it was so, but she did not feel pinned but bolstered, protected. It shamed her that she had panicked before. “Jack, you don’t need to do this. We can lie down.”

“Shh.” Softly, he kissed her cheek. Then the other one. Moving with great care, he kissed his way down her neck, each tender press of his lips sending a little punch of heat into her flesh. His mouth found her nipple and gave it an open-mouthed kiss, lingering only long enough to make her arch off the wall before he moved on to the other one. Tease.

Mary closed her eyes, her breathing growing light and agitated as he knelt before her and his big hands closed over the swells of her hips. He leaned against her for a moment, his mouth against her breast, his breath warm and damp over her skin. And then he sat back on his heels, and his lips glided over her navel, brushing past her hipbone, his teeth gently grazing.

She knew where he was headed and what he wanted. Her sex throbbed with the knowledge. The sight of him before her, his dark head against her pale skin, nearly undid her. His hand eased down her thigh and beneath her knee. And she moved with him, languid and dazed, lifting her leg to hook over his shoulder. Exposed.

His expression was fierce as he looked at her, his chest rising and falling with greater urgency, and then he glanced up and their eyes met. He held her gaze as he leaned forward and licked her with the flat of his tongue. Slow and lazy. A strangled cry left her, and her legs wobbled. His grip tightened, his eyes on her as he did it again.

Pleasure rolled through her so hot and strong that her body tensed, her nipples tightening with a painful throb. “Jack.”

Green eyes glinted as he reached out and flicked her swollen bud with the tip of his tongue. A featherlight touch. Maddening. She canted her hips, chasing his touch, but he backed away, not giving her the satisfaction.

His breath against her wetness almost felt cool, and his voice grew rough. “I want to be in here, Mary.” His tongue probed her opening, dipping in just enough to make her quake. “Do you want me here?”

Mary panted, her throat burning. “Yes.” Now.

Smiling, the fiend kissed her, hot and deep. A reward. One that shot through her body. “Jack!”

He held her still, one hot, rough palm upon her belly and the other at her hip, pinning her, supporting her. Trusting that he had her, she sagged against the silk-lined wall.

“Bloody hell, that feels good,” she rasped. An understatement. Pleasure overwhelmed her. And she wanted more.

He grinned, slow and wide. “If we do it correctly, it will all feel good, love.” His smile faded, replaced by a look of hot intent. “Show yourself to me.” Taking her hand in his, he guided it down to her sex.

Oh, but he was wicked. Her breath came out in a pant, and her hand shook as she complied and opened the folds of her sex for his delectation. He growled low in approval. “Beautiful. You are beautiful, angel.” Then he kissed the center of her, a tender, reverent gesture that made her heart stutter and pulled a strangled sound from her throat.

His lashes fluttered, his expression languid as he kissed her in earnest, nipping, licking, and sucking, his tongue sliding over her fingers and along her slick flesh. And it was too much. Too much sensation. The wet sound of his mouth on her, the small, greedy noises he made, and the way he wholeheartedly came at her, as though she were his last meal. It was messy, real. Life. She could not hide from it. She no longer wanted to. All these years. She hadn’t realized it could be like this. She didn’t feel shamed or used. But adored.