Royally Seduced

chapter 10


JACK WAITED UNTIL he was out of Lily’s hearing and called Jean-Claude, his estate manager. Jean-Claude was not merely an employee, but more like an uncle. He had taken Jack under his wing after Jack’s father died. Jack’s mother was a sweet lady—too sweet-natured to deal with the precocious, obnoxious boy he’d been. Fortunately for Jack, Jean-Claude and Madame Finch were not sweet-natured in the least.

“Allô?”

Jack couldn’t help but smile at the familiar sound of his old friend’s heavy Provençal accent. “Jean-Claude, c’est moi—Jacques.”

“Jacques? Where the hell are you?”

“Shhh. Meet me in down by the old oak tree near the fence line.”

“You’re here?” he bellowed.

“Calme-toi, mon ami. I will tell you everything as soon as you get here.”

Jean-Claude grunted and hung up. Ten minutes later the sturdy man was standing on his toes so he could shake his finger in Jack’s face. “And you are back in Provence after nearly dying in whatever jungle hellhole you ran off to, and you expect me to come running? We happen to be in the middle of the lavender harvest, in case you’ve forgotten. Lavender that I am harvesting for you, M’sieu le Comte.” He pursed his lips and then grabbed Jack for an emotional embrace. Jack got kissed on both cheeks and then once more for good measure.

Jack patted Jean-Claude’s back, accepting the traditional French greeting. His estate manager had probably received a hysterical phone call from Jack’s mother describing his admittedly nasty case of dysentery as a cross between the bubonic plague and Ebola hemorrhagic fever. “Eh, mon vieux, as you can see, I am here and healthy.”

“Bien oui, you are too skinny.” Jean-Claude released him, the corners of his sun-creased brown eyes crinkling as he gave him a hard stare.

Jack shrugged. “A few kilos, that’s all.”

“More like ten.” Jean-Claude sniffed. “And now that you are here, you will stay with us and Marthe-Louise will cook for you all your favorites.” Marthe-Louise was the family cook and also Jean-Claude’s wife.

“Actually I’m not staying at the big house.” He braced himself for the explosion, which erupted right on schedule.

“You come here sick and skinny and then you tell me you will go?” Jean-Claude gestured voluminously. “Go where? Go fall down in the lavender field and die? Eh, we could use goat shit for fertilizer—you do not need to volunteer!”

“Jean-Claude, s’il te plaît,” Jack soothed. “I called you because I can trust you.” He lowered his voice and looked around the empty courtyard like a bad dinner-theatre actor. “It involves a woman. A special woman.”

“Ah!” His old friend burst into laughter. All was forgiven if women and sex were involved. “Why didn’t you say so?” He dug his elbow in Jack’s side with less force than usual. “And this woman, where is she?”

“Waiting at the little house.”

“La petite maison? Why?”

Jack knew this next part would be the trickiest. “She doesn’t know I own all this. I don’t think she likes rich guys.”

Now Jean-Claude was really laughing. “Pull the other leg, Jacques. What woman doesn’t like rich men? Or is she not very bright?”

Jack made a chopping gesture with his hand. “Enough.” Jean-Claude raised his bushy eyebrows. Jack hardly ever used his aristocratic mien. He continued, “We will be staying at the petite maison and I do not want her to know the extent of my holdings. She is an independent American girl and very much believes our French concept of liberté, fraternité and egalité.”

Jean-Claude gave a loud snort. He knew himself the equal of any man in France, but knew the class system had well survived the Revolution. “If you say so, milord.”

Jack rolled his eyes. “If you’re going to act the role of a peasant, at least give a little bow or avert your eyes as you talk to me. Now as you know, Princess Stefania will be setting her wedding date soon, and she needs lavender oil for a special perfume. She is planning to sell it for the benefit of her children’s charity. Do we have enough high-quality lavender to supply her needs?”

Jean-Claude drew himself up in affront, as if explaining their business to a particularly dim-witted farmhand. “M’sieu le Comte, all our fields are, as always, Haute-Provence Lavender, designated by the government as AOC, Controlled Destination of Origin. We never have low-quality lavender.” His lips curled at the very thought, and he spit on the dry ground.

“Very good.” He wrapped his arm around his friend’s shoulders. “Where would I be without you, mon vieux?”

Jean-Claude puffed out his lips. “Taking care of your own land and your own lavender.”

“I know, I know.” Jack raised his hands in surrender. “But I am still grateful. And Princess Stefania will be, too.”

“A wedding for her. I remember when she came for the summer when she was what, twelve? Thirteen?”

Jack nodded.

“Marthe-Louise taught her how to cook, how to garden, how to sew. My poor wife, she cried for weeks when Stefania left to go back to school.”

“I’m sure Stefania will want to invite both of you to her wedding.”

Jean-Claude shuffled his feet and looked at the ground. “Eh, why would she want two old Provençal peasants at her fancy wedding? Us rubbing elbows with all the aristos and royalty in Europe.”

“Marthe-Louise would chase you with her carving knife if you declined the invitation and you know it.”

“Eh, bien, you are right, Jacques.” He heaved a theatrical sigh. “If we are invited, I suppose I must buy Marthe-Louise a new dress.”

“Probably two or three,” Jack pointed out. “And a new suit for yourself.” He happened to know that Jean-Claude’s good suit was a relic from Jack’s parents’ own wedding, more than thirty years ago. The lapels were wide enough for Jean-Claude to hang glide off the mountains of the nearby Haute-Alpes.

The older man winced. “Well, for Stefania, I will do it.”

“Good man.” Jack clapped him on the back. “I am not sure how long Lily and I will be staying, but if Marthe-Louise wouldn’t mind cooking an occasional meal for us…”

“She is away in Nice with our daughter who had a baby but will be back in a couple days. And what did you say? This girl’s name is Lily?”

“Yes, why?” he asked, unsure why Jean-Claude was fighting a smile.

“Ah, ah, ah.” Jean-Claude wiggled his gnarled finger at Jack. “You be careful, mon ami. This girl is already part of your life.”

“What? Why do you say that?”

He lifted his hand in mock innocence. “Because of the de Brissard coat of arms, of course. A triple fleur-de-lis on a red background—three lily flowers. C’est parfait—it’s perfect!” He doubled over in laughter as Jack realized his friend was correct.

For the past thousand years, the family’s coat of arms had been golden lilies on a red shield. He’d grown up seeing them every day but had never thought much about them.

Now he had his own Golden Lily. But how could she be a part of his life? And did she even want to be?



LILY WANDERED AROUND the courtyard, wondering what the fountain looked like with the water turned on. It made sense that it had been shut down if there was no one staying there. A working farm had priorities for water elsewhere, especially if they were irrigating vegetables or flower crops.

She sat on a bench in front of the house and wondered if the house’s blue shutters were decorative or functional. Probably both, considering what she’d read about the wild mistral winds that funneled south from the mountains.

Fruit trees lined the courtyard—always practical, those Provence farmers. Almond, apple, cherry and dark plum. Ooh, and a fig tree. You didn’t see those outdoors in Philly, and this was a big fig, its grayish trunk a mass of columns as if it were many tree trunks woven and grown together.

The still, warm air buzzed with the sound of cicadas. It was as if she had fallen back one century, even two, as she sat in the quiet courtyard.

And this was Jack’s country. No wonder he had looked ill at ease in noisy, gray Paris. He thrived on warmth. Warm sun, warm people and warm colors.

She was flowering as well in Provence, enjoying the beautiful scenery and kind people. But Jack was the biggest reason she was enjoying herself.

Lily leaned her head back against the thick plastered wall and closed her eyes. Yep, she could get to like this too much. She must have dozed off because the next thing she realized, Jack slid next to her on the bench and kissed her awake.

“Hello, Sleeping Beauty.”

“I’m no beauty.”

He laughed and then grew serious when she lifted an eyebrow at him. “And you think you are not?”

She shrugged, uncomfortable at this serious turn of conversation. “I’m not particularly blonde, particularly tall or particularly, um, well-built.”

“You have hair like honey.” He cupped her jaw and lifted several strands. “It shines golden-brown in the sun. You are the right height to fit against me. And if you were any more shapely, I would be an even bigger gibbering idiot when you are near me.”

“You don’t seem like an idiot now.”

“I hide it well.” He brushed her hair to the side and kissed her cheek. “All I want to do is stare at you—and try not to drool down my chin.”

She gave a startled laugh at the image of sophisticated, urbane Jack with drool down his chin because of her.

“And you are even more beautiful when you laugh.”

“Really?”

“Really. Now come see the house. I talked with Jean-Claude and he was happy to let us stay here.”

“If you’re sure.”

“Positive.” He selected a key from his ring and unlocked the front door. “Come see. I think you will like it.”

Jack pushed open the door and ushered her in. She stood there enjoying the sunny, two-story entryway while he carried in their bags. “Voilà, the foyer.” It was a wide, modern-size space with a sweeping staircase going up into the second floor, but the bones of the house were definitely not modern. The exposed walls were old limestone like the outside, and the ceiling was white plaster with dark timbered crossbeams that were obviously not only decorative but still structural.

“How old is this place?” It looked even older than Mrs. Wyndham’s house, and Ben Franklin had actually dined there with a Wyndham ancestor.

“It was an ancient farmhouse that Oncle Pierre renovated, adding all the modern comforts, of course. This main level used to be the stable, and the heat of the animals would rise to the rather meager living quarters upstairs. It is of course several times larger than it used to be.”

“Oncle Pierre?”

“Yes, he was the younger brother of the family. Wanted his privacy.” Jack shrugged matter-of-factly. “His mistress was not only a very famous actress, but a married one, no less. They needed much privacy for their rendezvous.”

Lily pursed her lips and Jack laughed. “Do not worry about that lady’s husband, chérie. He had a boyfriend of his own. Everyone was very civilized, and I believe they used to exchange Christmas presents.”

“Hmmph.”

“Ah.” He carried their luggage up the front staircase, framed by an elegant wrought iron railing decorated with bronze medallions of bundles of lavender.

“What do you mean, ‘ah’?” Lily narrowed her eyes at his back.

He pushed open the door to a wide, airy bedroom. It had a large bed with four dark wooden posts rising to a canopy frame. Gauzy white fabric draped artfully from one side to the next. “You are worried that I am very civilized, that I have a wife or mistress—or both, and they are all very French and unconcerned about my doings. Is that right?”

“Madame Finch said you didn’t,” she muttered.

“Madame Finch?” His eyebrows shot up. “When did you ask her about my sex life?”

“I called her after you kissed me in the car. She says you are single.”

“And did she ask why you wanted to know?”

“I told her you’d just stuck your tongue in my mouth and I needed to decide whether or not to have sex with you.”

He made a small choking sound.

“Because I really, really wanted to have sex with you, but I wouldn’t if you were involved with someone else. She gave me the all-clear and said to have my wicked way with you.”

“That does sound like something she would say,” he replied dryly.

She couldn’t keep up the joke any longer and giggled. “Oh, Jacky, don’t be silly. I asked her about the being single part. We were very civilized, as you say.”

He set down their backpacks on the wide wooden planks of the floor. “I can tell you I have no wife, no fiancée and no mistress. I am normally a very orderly, very civilized man, but I have found over the past day that that veneer of civilization is paper-thin and peeling off me as we speak.” He yanked off his T-shirt and tossed it away. He unlaced his boots and kicked them and his socks free. “And I like it very much when you call me ‘Jacky.’ Maybe you can call me that when I am pounding inside you.”

Lily’s jaw dropped as Jack dropped his shorts and briefs and stood entirely naked in front of her. “You don’t look civilized at all.”

“Good. Now take off those clothes before I rip them off you.” His eyes glittered, and she knew he meant it.

He looked primitive and aroused, his cock jutting up into his belly, huge and dark with blood, a drop of silvery moisture slicking his tip. His heavy sac rested on a nest of dark brown hair and a vein pulsed along the side of his shaft. An answering throbbing started between her thighs. She had never seen him totally naked in the daylight, and he was impressively built. A little thin, but still muscled, his shoulders broad and tapering into a narrow waist and strong thighs.

He pulled a foil packet out of his backpack and covered himself. No pretending with this man. He knew she wanted him, and he wanted her, too.

Of all the stylish, sophisticated women in France, he had chosen her. And she had chosen him. She slowly pulled her shirt over her head and ditched the rest of her clothing until she stood in front of him in her plain cotton bra and matching panties.

“Take it all off.” A command, not a suggestion.

Her underwear joined the rest of her clothing. She shivered under his hungry gaze.

“And you say you are not beautiful?” He shook his head. “Mon dieu.” He stalked toward her, his cock bobbing with each step. Lily waited in anticipation for him.

Jack scooped his hands into her hair and crushed her mouth to his. She gasped and he took advantage of it to plunge his tongue inside. He stroked her tongue with his, sucking on her and letting her suck on him.

Her breathing came fast and hard, and she clutched his wrists. Jack was right—he was being totally uncivilized and savage, and she loved it. He moved her backwards so the edge of the bed clipped her legs and they sprawled onto the bed in a tangle of limbs.

His thigh had come to rest between hers, muscled and hot on her *. She automatically moved against him, and he smiled, slowly rubbing up and down so the hair rasped her tender folds. “You like this, eh?” He lowered his head and nibbled her neck.

Lily arched her back as his mouth traveled leisurely across her skin, licking and sucking her tender earlobe, down to her collarbone.

“Lovely Lily,” Jack murmured. “You turn me into a savage. I want to suck on your golden skin, give you a love bite.”

She shivered at his sultry tone. “Why would you do that?”

“To stake my claim on you. So every man who sees you knows that you are taken. Possessed. Mine.”

“And what should I do so other women know you’re taken?”

“Nothing. I do not even see other women since you have dazzled me so.”

“Oh, Jack.” She grabbed the sides of his head and brought his mouth up to hers.

He kissed her eagerly. “It’s true, I swear,” he explained between planting kisses on her cheeks and lips. “You may think we Frenchmen are casual about l’amour, but I am not. I never have been.”

“Me, neither.” Lily gasped as he moved down to her breasts. “Oh, Jack, that feels so good.”

His only reply was a muffled hum as he sucked on her nipple, rubbing his thigh between hers. His cock swelled even more, rising to her belly.

She wrapped her hand around him and shifted so he was brushing her opening. “Come inside me, Jack.”

He shook his head. “No, you need more.”

She guided his hand between them. “Does this feel like I need more?” She was dripping wet and throbbing.

He gave her a slow smile. “Why, yes, it does. More of this.” He slid a finger into her tight passage and she squeezed down on him. “More of this.” He moved his finger in and out, rotating it around like a naughty little sex toy. He brushed a particular spot and she squealed in surprised pleasure. He immediately returned there. “Oh, yes, the G-spot. And yours is so sensitive. You must like coming from this.”

She shook her head.

“You don’t?” he asked in surprise. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No! I never have before.”

His smile grew positively wicked. “Then allow me to be the first.” He circled her G-spot and alternated light and firm pressure across it.

She gasped as he devoted his entire attention to those few centimeters of tender flesh, murmuring in French as he touched her. She almost came from listening to his dark, sexy accent. He could have been reciting French nursery rhymes for all she cared.

Then he switched into English. “Beautiful Lily, I love to see your naked breasts pointing up, waiting for me to suck on the hard tips. I love to see your smooth skin bead with sweat so I can lick it off. And I love stroking you inside, so wet and hot and tight that I wish it were my cock inside you instead of my finger.”

Her nipples tightened even further at his raunchy sex talk and she grabbed at him to put his money where his finger was, so to speak.

“Not yet. I’ll take you when I say so.” He easily fended her off with an increase in speed that left her gasping.

It was a pleasure that spiraled upward, burrowing deep into her very center, a pleasure that skirted the edge of pain from its intensity. A pleasure that made her dig her heels into the soft bedding and arch her back off the bed as if she were a bow drawn taut and he was a master archer.

“That’s it, Lily, beautiful Lily,” he coaxed her. “Surrender to yourself. Surrender to me.”

“No.” She whipped her head back and forth. She wouldn’t surrender to him or anyone.

“You want to,” he whispered. “You want me to possess you. Like you possessed me with your wicked mouth in the car. Mindless, physical passion.”

She groaned. She’d always been careful to have her mind rule her body, but Jack was turning everything upside down with a wiggle of his finger.

“Do it, Lily. Lust. Sex. All you have to do is feel.”

Suddenly she was tired of thinking. That could come later. She wanted to come now. She sighed and relaxed into the bed, and he chuckled. “That’s it.” He flicked her with his fingertip and then suddenly pressed hard.

She screamed his name and arched off the bed again, twisting the sheets into wrinkled handfuls. Her orgasm blasted through her like a shock wave, the epicenter at his fingertip and radiating out to the far reaches of her body. She quivered and clutched at Jack, her only anchor in the most powerful climax of her life. He held her close and murmured to her in French again as she fought the pleasure and then finally surrendered to it. Surrendered to him. The shock wave became a soothing rocking and finally a ripple.

She opened her eyes and swallowed hard, her mouth dry. Jack stared down at her, his eyes wide. “What?” she asked.

He shook his head. “Only that that was the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. And that you would share it with me.”

“Really?” She was sweaty and probably red as a beet, but he was looking at her as if she were the last truffle in France.

“Really.”

She preened a bit. “I’m not done sharing with you, if you know what I mean.” She reached down and cupped his cock, still stiff as a board after all that foreplay. Poor man, he was so patient. And so virile. She pulled him on top of her so he rested between her legs.

He groaned and thrust against her as she squeezed her thighs around his erection. “Oh, Lily.”

“You like that?”

“I like everything you do to me.” He nudged her legs wide open. “But I love being inside you.” He plunged forward and sank deep into her.

His thick cock filled her sensitized center and she let out a short scream. He stopped for a brief second, but she smiled at him and he started to move inside her.

And like that, Lily was back in the realm of mindless lust, where her only thought was how soon she could come again. His flesh slapped into hers and pulled out, making her whimper until he filled her again. She hooked her legs around his waist to keep him locked inside but he couldn’t keep still, his body in control and driving toward his own orgasm.

His body rubbed hers and she responded, tightening around him. His chest hair caught on her nipples, rasping their swollen peaks. He bent down and licked the top curve of her breast and then sucked hard on her nipple, sending exquisite jolts down to her *.

She dug her fingers into his shoulders and moaned, “Jacky.”

“That’s it, Lily. Show me how much you want me,” he commanded. He moved to her other nipple, leaving the first glistening and pink like a ripe berry.

Before she could stop herself, she nipped at his shoulder.

Jack grinned and lifted his head. “The little cat has claws and teeth. Maybe I can make you purr.”

After that, Lily didn’t purr as much as moan, pant and scream as he slammed into her, moving them across the bed until she was against the headboard. He hooked his hands under her shoulders and pulled her down under him, their sweaty skin clinging and releasing as his cock slapped wetly in and out of her p-ssy.

He stopped for a second and reached between their bodies to unerringly find her *. A couple strokes and she clutched wildly as she spasmed around him. He thrust long enough to make sure she’d hit the highest peak and then let go of himself.

He tossed back his head, his eyes dark and blind to anything but the powerful spasms of his climax. His lips drew into a snarl as he roared his release like a lion who had claimed his mate.

It was the first time she’d been able to see his face at his peak and she was entranced. His easygoing, suave exterior was entirely gone, his primitive sexuality on display for only her to see. She held on tight to him as he gasped and collapsed. She welcomed his heavy weight pressing her into the bedding and inhaled the scent of their lovemaking rising from their skin.

“Ah, ma belle Lily.” He was still breathing hard. “How can it be like this?”

She shook her head, enjoying how his chest rasped along her cheek, his heart thumping sturdily inside his ribs. “I don’t know, but I’m not looking a gift horse in the mouth.”

He laughed and rolled them to their sides. “I hope that I am not the gift horse, non?”

“No, you’re the stallion.” She wiggled her eyebrows lasciviously, making him laugh even harder. “How do you say that in French?”

“Oh, no, no.” He shook his head. “I’ll teach you any other French words you want, but not that.”

“Okay, I’ll ask the next Frenchwoman I meet. And if she asks why I want to know, I’ll look at you and smile.”

He groaned. “Ah, my reputation will never recover if you do that. Stallion is étalon.”

“Ay-tal-ohn,” she mimicked. “My stallion.”

“Ah, mon dieu, Lily.” He laughed. “I never know what to expect from you.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“Not at all.” Jack kissed her mouth and extricated himself from the rumpled bedding. “I’ll be right back.” He pulled on his briefs and disappeared downstairs, quickly returning with a pair of champagne flutes and a bottle of champagne. “I was going to do this first. Show you the house, offer you champagne, feed you and then…” He gave a shrug and laughed, setting down the glasses to open the bottle.

“Then this?” She pointed at her naked body. Somehow she wasn’t shy around him.

“Only if you wanted.” He poured the pale bubbly into the tall narrow glasses, designed especially so the bubbles would not immediately evaporate and flatten the wine.

“I did want.”

“Good. So did I.” He offered her a full champagne flute. “To this. To us.”

They delicately touched the rims of what had to be fine crystal and Lily sipped, her eyes widening in shock. “No. This isn’t—”

He gave her a sidelong glance. “Isn’t what?”

“Did you open a bottle of Bollinger Blanc?”

“You have an excellent palate. That’s exactly what it is. 1995, to be exact.”

She sat bolt upright. “Jack! We can’t accept their hospitality and then drink all the expensive wine. How tacky is that?”

“Not tacky at all. I bought it myself the last time I visited and we didn’t get around to drinking it, that’s all.”

“Oh.” She relaxed a bit. “But you really should replace it before we go, don’t you think?”

“Of course. There is an excellent wine store in a nearby town. I’ll order another bottle.”

“Okay, but you have to let me help pay for it. You’re not the only one drinking it, you know.” She took another sip. It was the best champagne she’d ever tasted, and this time she had a whole glass of it, not just a stolen sip from an untouched party glass.

A whole glass…she dribbled some down her belly so it pooled in her navel. “Have a drink, Jack. Nice and wet, the way you like it.”

His nostrils flared and he dipped his tongue in her belly button. “I like it all. I like you, nice and wet.” He inhaled greedily. “I can smell myself on you, smell your arousal.” He drew lazy circles on her belly with his tongue and then stopped suddenly.

She nudged him to get him going again but he sat back on his haunches and gestured at her glass. “Have some more champagne.”

“You don’t have to get me drunk to have your wicked way with me. I’m perfectly willing.” But she wasn’t willing to let her champagne go flat, so she drank more.

“Bah,” he puffed in disgust. “Real men do not need to get women drunk to make love. That is why we only went to sleep first our first night in Provence—you were tired and had much wine in addition. I would not take advantage of that.”

“Good thing I sobered up in my sleep.” She deliberately stretched and yawned, making sure her breasts pointed up invitingly.

He took a large mouthful of champagne and before she realized what he was doing, fastened his mouth on her nipple. She shrieked at first from the cold and then the bubbles popping against her tender skin. A chuckle rumbled through him, but he sucked at her with the sparkling wine.

He finally let go and swallowed. “Ah, what could be better?”

“Doing the same to my other nipple?” she suggested.

“Excellent.” He complied with her request until both peaks were tingling. He refilled her glass and she spilled champagne onto his belly and licked it off. He was rock-hard again and inches from her lips, his head ripe and purple like a juicy sweet plum. And she knew just how to eat it.

She sat up and gave him a wicked smile before filling her mouth with champagne. His eyes widened. “Oh, no, Lily.”

She smirked and closed her mouth around his plump flesh and it was his turn to arch off the bed in a howl of pure sensation. The bubbles buzzed him as she sucked on him. Champagne dribbled down his shaft as she took him deeper between her lips. He fisted his fingers through her hair, tiny pinpricks of pleasure and pain tingling her scalp.

“Enough,” he growled, lifting her head so she released him.

“Don’t you like that?” He’d sure seemed to enjoy it so far.

“Too much. I want to be inside you, want us to explode together.” He pushed her onto her hands and knees and she heard a packet rip open. “Have you ever seen a stallion take a mare, Lily?”

She shook her head, quivering in anticipation as he moved behind her. He quickly found her *, still throbbing and swollen from their previous loveplay. She tossed her hair back and he nudged her legs apart.

Jack covered her body with his, his chest on her back, his strong hands braced on the bed next to her smaller, more delicate ones. She expected to feel confined, intimidated, even frightened since he had the position of power and she couldn’t see what he was doing. But there was no coercion in his actions, only security and shelter in his arms. “Take me like that, Jack.”

“Yes…” he hissed and pushed inside her. Lily gave a little scream as he nipped at her neck. She bowed her head and saw her hard-tipped breasts swaying in time to his thrusts—the nipples he’d sucked on. Saw his thick erection moving in and out of her—the erection she’d sucked on. Their raw animal passion shocked her and aroused her to a fever pitch.

“You like it like this, don’t you.” It wasn’t a question. He could obviously feel how her body melted around him, wet and creamy.

“I want to feel you inside me.”

“I am, bébé, I am.” He shoved himself to the hilt to let her feel his power, his heft.

She shook her head, not daring to say what she wanted.

“What?” he soothed her. “Tell me what you want. I’ll do anything you want.”

She allowed her imagination to run wild for an instant, wanting the most impossible thing. “Inside me without the condom,” she gasped. “Skin on skin. Feeling you shoot inside me when you come, hot and sticky.”

“Oh, merde.” His reply was anguished and his whole body shook. “You’ll make me come just by saying that. I want that too, but…” His cock pulsed inside her, as if readying to fire.

“Yeah, I know.” Better to be safe than sorry. But it would be so intense for both of them.

“Lily, that would be my biggest fantasy.” He moved inside her again, in and out. “When we were driving here today, I was thinking of how powerful that would be.”

“Ohhh…” That was the cause of his arousal while driving. “No wonder you were so turned on.”

He grunted, whether in passion or embarrassment, she didn’t know. Or care, since he had seized her hips and was thrusting into her, hitting all the right spots. And then he reached around her and found her *, and she screamed, coming really hard.

He followed her, his cock tensing and flexing inside her as he roared his release. He pulled out of her and eased them down to the bed.

Lily pried her eyes open and kissed his shoulder, the nearest body part she could reach without moving too much. Her eyes widened. “Geez, did I do that?”

“What?” He looked down at where she pointed to his chest. “A love bite.” A smug smile spread over his face at the idea that she had bitten him in a fit of passion. Her own face flushed.

He laughed, a rich and hearty sound. “Why, Lily, you little savage.” He sat up and turned his back to her. “Do I carry your claw marks, too?”

In fact, he did—eight red lines on his shoulders from where she clutched at him. He looked over his shoulder at her and lifted an eyebrow at her guilty expression. “Those, too, eh?”

“Oh, my God.” She buried her face in her hands and rolled onto her stomach. How embarrassing to mangle the poor guy when all he was doing was helping her enjoy herself.

“Uh-uh.” He rolled her back, his eyes warm and crinkling at the corners. “I knew the risks going in, but I will always be willing to sacrifice a few centimeters of epidermis for your pleasure.”

She flicked her fingers against his upper arm. “Your pleasure, too, as if you didn’t notice.”

“I have rather delicate skin, you know.” He scooped her into his arms, forestalling any of her attempts at retaliation. “All I ask is that you do not leave any permanent marks.”

“Oh, Jack.” She buried her face in his chest, his chuckle rumbling under her ear. She may have marked him physically, but he had marked her emotionally with his tenderness, his kindness and his care—and this was only after a few days. Once they parted, she would carry a mark more painful than any bruise or scratch.