His other hand didn’t remain still. It cupped her opposite breast and played with the pink crest. Jane pushed her fingers through his hair, holding his mouth to her aching breast. She arched her back to allow him to draw the swollen bud deeper into his torturous mouth. She moaned.
His hand moved lower, skimming the outside of her waist, playing along the rise of her hips, and finally, sweeping between her thighs to find the place she desperately wanted him to.
He stroked between her cleft and parted the springy hairs there. He stroked again, once, twice, before settling in the exact perfect spot. The spot that made her entire body tremble.
He lowered himself between her legs. His head moving down until his mouth was at her navel. “Jane,” he whispered against the soft skin of her belly.
“Yes,” she managed, but she could hardly think with his finger doing magical things to her, let alone speak.
“You’re really going to enjoy this next bit.”
She sucked in her breath. “I am?”
“Yes. A lot.”
“Show me,” she breathed.
He continued his slow movement down her body until his hot, wet mouth hovered above her most sensitive place. He drew his finger away. She cried out at the loss but the location of his mouth promised better things. Surely he didn’t mean to—
“Are you about to…?” Jane couldn’t bring herself to say the words.
“Yes.” The feel of his warm breath against her sensitive skin made her shudder. She was about to come off the bed. She hadn’t ever read about this.
“Do you mind?” he asked.
“Not at all,” she answered. Then she couldn’t think because his mouth was on her, his tongue owning her. She grabbed the bedsheets with both fists and arched her back off the mattress. “Oh, God,” she murmured, her head tossing against the pillow. “Upton, I swear, if you stop now.”
His warm laugh touched her thigh. “I wouldn’t do that to you, Jane.”
The use of her first name was her undoing. There was something so sweet, so lovely, so sincere about it. His tongue nudged once more in her center and she came apart, grabbing his head and crying a keening wail.
He pulled himself up and his mouth was on hers again, insatiable. “How did I know you’d be a screamer?” he said against her mouth between ravenous kisses.
“I can’t believe what you just did … what you made me feel.”
“You haven’t felt half of it yet.”
A shudder racked her body.
His mouth moved to her breast and he teased her, played with her, sucked her until her back arched off the bed again and she wrapped her fingers through his hair. “Upton.”
“Will you please call me Garrett when I’m making love to you?” His voice was piqued, but heavy with lust.
“Garrett,” she breathed.
He groaned and slid one finger into her hot wet warmth.
“Oh. God. Yes.” Another keening wail from her that he covered with his mouth.
His finger touched the most sensitive spot between her legs, rubbing her in tiny circles, and her hips matched his movements. “Garrett, I—”
“Don’t talk. Just feel.”
“I’m feeling too much.” Her hips kept up their circular motion. She was a puppet on his string.
“That’s not possible.”
She pressed her forehead to his, hard. “What are you doing?
“Stop talking.”
“Tell me.”
“I’m going to make you come again.”
Her eyes rolled back in her head. His finger was magical, perfect. He knew exactly where to touch, how long, and how much pressure to exert. Her hips bucked. She sobbed against his shoulder. She wanted to bite him. “Please,” she whimpered. “Please.”
“Please who?” he whispered fiercely into her ear. “Say my name.” He slid another finger into her and Jane came apart in a thousand pieces.
“Garrett,” she cried as she came. “Oh, Garrett.”
* * *
Garrett lay with her head against his shoulder for a few moments, allowing the self-satisfied smirk to remain on his face. He’d never been half the rake he’d been accused of, but tonight he was bloody proud of the experience he did have. Jane had come twice, and they hadn’t even made love yet. Happy wedding night to her.
There was still much left to teach her. His cock ached. He wanted to bury himself in her, but he didn’t want to frighten her.
Jane was beyond gorgeous. He’d nearly spilled his seed just watching her take off her chemise. Her skin was like porcelain, her breasts full and round and perfect. Her waist was small and her hips flared enticingly. And her backside. Oh, her backside. Poems should be written about Jane’s backside.