I got the feeling he was physically struggling not to surge up into me. I nodded because I couldn’t talk over the emotion clogging my throat.
His hand skated up my spine into my hair, and he wound it up in his hand and kissed me.
As my tongue found his and slid deeply into his mouth, he pulled me down, easing me onto him. Taking me.
It was just too good, and we’d waited so long. The feel of him inside me filled my entire being with sharp and exquisite needles of ecstasy. My skin was on fire, every nerve-ending I possessed experiencing it firsthand. I pulled my mouth from Jack’s just so I could focus. So I could try and hold onto the cry that seemed about to be torn from my throat.
“Shit,” Jack hissed and then groaned. “You feel so good.”
He rocked his hips, and I opened my eyes, my teeth clenched, as the sensations barreled through me with his movement.
“How could you possibly feel this damn good?” His eyes implored me desperately, like I could answer him. As if I’d woven some spell over him.
I didn’t know. I’d certainly never known anything like this. Even the unbelievable first night we’d shared paled when compared to the depth of emotion that was attached to the feel of Jack beneath me. Jack inside me. Jack holding me and sliding in and out of me as I moved on him. And God, I was moving. I couldn’t help it. I was propelled by a need so strong, I couldn’t catch my breath over it. “God, Jack ...” I sobbed out, no longer able to hold anything back.
The climax when it came, ripped it’s way through me so fast I barely heard Jack as he held me tight to his chest murmuring calming words and sliding his fingers through my hair, keeping me anchored to him.
Afterwards we moved into a tangle of naked flesh, limbs, and sheets, his mouth making love to mine, and then finding my aching nipples. I arched into his kiss, his arms under the bow of my spine, holding me up. His hands and mouth roamed the landscape of my body, searching out all my secrets, creating future fantasies, and coaxing me into a trembling mess of hot torturous need that only existed for some kind of release.
“Please,” I managed at some point.
“I want to go slow for you,” he breathed. He settled between my legs, and I flashed back to our first time, when we’d made love in this same position.
My hands raked through his messy, dark brown hair, and I lifted his face to mine. “I don’t,” I said. The imaginary images of him and Audrey were fading with every moment we spent together, but I wanted them gone. I wanted it to be us I saw when Jack was wild and not gentle. “I like slow … but also fast,” I murmured, echoing his words from the other night.
His lower body surged against mine, hard and heavy against my thigh, so close to where I was aching and needing. Again.
“Soft, but also rough,” I scraped my nails over his skin and up into his hair. He hissed in a breath, his green eyes darkening, watching my mouth, waiting for the words he knew were coming. “Gentle … then really …” I closed my hand firmly in his hair and swallowed, building up courage, looking him straight in his eyes. “Really … hard.”
Jack expelled a rush of air, sharp and deep. Seconds passed, his mouth tightening like he was struggling for control.
I moistened my lower lip and caught it between my teeth, a little nervous at my own boldness, waiting for what he would do.
He lifted his body, a dark carved shadow in the low lamp light and took my hands, pinning them on the bed either side of my head. Eyes blazing, his mouth curving into a lopsided grin, his knees pushed my legs wider. “You asked,” he said finally and slammed into me hot and hard.
I cried out, but he didn’t stop.
I didn’t want him to.
He knew it.
Jack was fierce, and glorious. A face etched with determination, with need, and with an aching reverence that had me shuddering beneath him. An animal, yet also a man. A driving force of nature whose eyes blazed as his skin glowed with sweat, and in that moment, and that moment alone, I became a woman. I was no longer the girl he knew. I was a woman who’d forged her own future, made her own choices, had experienced heartbreak and first love and now demanded to be made love to as an equal. I had wants, I had needs, and right now my need was to watch Jack Eversea, my Jack, my sweet, vulnerable, yet closed and guarded Jack, lose it.
Surging and arching up, I wrapped my legs around his waist and matched him, stroke for stroke. The feel of him overwhelming, and so right.
His eyes closed and his hands gripped mine tighter, his weight pressing them into the bed and his body quaking. “Jesus,” he growled.
“Look at me, Jack,” I whispered through my labored breathing, echoing his words to me when we’d first made love.
He obeyed, his eyes almost black, his pupils were so large, and I felt him slowing.