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[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ] "You want to know what I want to do to you?" he asked, his voice gritty with so much wanting. She nodded and opened her mouth, but no sound emerged. So, taking her silence to be an assent, Jack told her exactly what his intentions were, no quarter asked. "I want to peel every article of clothing from your sweet flesh with my teeth, and taste every silky inch of you." "Oh, Jack..." she whispered again, her voice a soft caress. He dropped his hand to her nape, burying his fingers in the cascade of her hair, cupping her scalp in the palm of his hand. "I want you to open to me the way you've never opened to anyone else before. And I want to go deeper, farther, faster than any other man ever has." "Oh, Jack..." "I want to be on top of you, beside you, below you, behind you..." "Oh, Jack..." "I want to be inside you, Geo. Deep, deep inside you. And I want to stay inside you forever." "Oh...oh, Jack...okay." He lowered his head to her neck again, and Georgia closed her eyes and tilted her head to the right to give him fuller access to plunder the skin he seemed intent on devouring. His fingers tightened over her wrists, and even if she'd wanted to, she couldn't have broken free. She felt his other hand skim down to dip below her sweater once more, his fingers opening over the bare skin at her waist, strumming her lower ribs, electrifying her flesh. She'd never been more aroused in her life. And she hadn't even taken her clothes off yet. Jack seemed determined to rectify that fact, however, because she felt him push her sweater up, up, up, over her belly, past her ribs, above her breasts. When the soft wool was pooled under her arms, she heard him suck in his breath at what he encountered. The black brassiere was more wisp than lace, and under his scrutiny, she could feel her hard nipples swell more eagerly against the deep demicups, knew he could see clearly the outline of her wide aureolae. He met her gaze silently, his eyes burning with something indecent, something incandescent. The fingers on her wrists faltered somewhat, then tightened again when he covered one of her breasts with his free hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. She bit her lip and groaned softly, but she continued to watch him as he held her firm in his palm. He opened his fingers wide, then curled them into her heavy breast again, this time raking his thumb lightly back and forth over her nipple. A hot spiral of need began to unwind inside her, circling outward until she felt as if she would explode. Then suddenly the motion of his hand stilled, and he moved his fingers between her breasts. "A front clasp," he said, lightly touching the closure of her brassiere. "How thoughtful of you." Before she could comment, and with expert speed, he flicked open the fastening and spread the dark garment wide. Her breasts spilled free, and Jack's attention focused fully on the blush she felt creeping up between them. He filled his hand with one, lifting it toward his descending head, and sucked her deep into his mouth. He flattened his tongue against her nipple, laving her, tasting her, torturing her, then circled her with the tip. Finally he drew as much of her into his mouth as he could, the pressure on her skittish flesh almost too much for her to bear. She tried to jerk her hands free, wanted to bury her fingers in his hair and hold his head steady, so that he could consume her this way forever. But he only held her more tightly, both hands closing more possessively over their prizes, and continued his feverish onslaught. He continued to plunder her breast with a hungry mouth as he skirted his nimble fingers lower again, and she felt him tug at the top button of her blue jeans until it was freed. Then, still imprisoning her wrists behind her with one hand, he lowered the zipper with his other, and dug his fingers inside. Slowly, methodically, he worked the heavy denim down around her hips, cupping his hand over her bottom as he slipped her jeans lower. Then, as he continued to suckle and nip at her breasts, he moved his hand back to her front. Georgia tried to open her legs wider to facilitate his venture, but the jeans hugging her thighs prevented her from doing so. Her posture didn't halt Jack, however. He nudged his fingers between her legs, stroking, furrowing, scoring, until she felt slick and hot and restless everywhere he was touching her. "Jack," she managed to gasp out. "I'm busy," he murmured against her flesh. "But I think we should think about maybe..." "What?" His voice was as impatient as his activity was leisurely. "Going to bed," she finally finished on a soft sigh. He ceased immediately, his entire body seeming to consider her suggestion. Then the hand between her legs stroked her one long, final time, and the tongue on her breast streaked slowly from top curve to bottom. Jack lifted his head but didn't go far. He only pushed his body flush against hers and began to dance her back toward the bedroom. Only then did she realize that they had moved no farther than inside the front door of his suite. They'd been writhing and needy and groaning and moaning, and anyone passing by out in the hall could have heard them and guessed with little effort what was going on. For some reason, though, the thought of being overheard in the act only heightened her senses and excitement. She'd never fancied herself an exhibitionist, but clearly, Jack brought out the beast in her. He continued their forward motion, his hands never leaving their posts, his eyes locked with hers in a ferocious, feral gaze, until he backed her into his bedroom. In spite of the noon hour, the room was enveloped by shadow and darkness, because the heavy drapes were still drawn. Georgia let Jack lead her in the dance until they, too, were swathed under cover of darkness, until her legs bumped against the edge of the bed, and she could go no farther. Then she smiled up at him and tried to wriggle her hands free again. "You know," she said when he refused to release her, "it's not going to be any fun at all for you if you don't let me use my hands." The look he gave her told her he knew she had considerably more to work with than just her hands, but he finally did turn her wrists loose. Georgia brought her arms forward slowly, feeling a tingle of sensation simmer through her as blood that had raced to other parts of her body began to warm her arms now, too. Although his jacket had fallen to the floor out in the suite foyer, his shirt trailed down behind him, still half-tucked into his trousers. He seemed not to notice, however, because he was still too busy wreaking havoc on her body. She reached for his belt at the same time that he tried to skim her sweater the rest of the way over her arms and head, and she laughed at their inability to complete either task. "You first," Jack said, tugging at her sweater. "No, you first," Georgia countered, yanking at his belt "No, you first," he insisted with a smile, giving the sweater another ineffective shove. "No, you first," she argued lightly, using both hands this time in an effort to dislodge the length of leather. "No, you." "No, you." "No, you." "No, you." As they clawed at each other's clothing, Georgia began to giggle, a result of nerves and need and uncertainty. Jack took advantage of her caprice to push her playfully away and pull the garment up and over her head. She shrugged out of her brassiere herself, then returned to him immediately and, still laughing, jerked his belt free of its [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ] |