“What do you want?” he asked, circling his finger teasingly around her aching pearl without touching her there, where she was most sensitive.
“You,” she admitted easily. “Touch me, Jack. Touch me the way you used to.”
At last, he gave her what she wanted. She gasped as he rotated his fingers over her. Time fell away. The last three years might never have existed. She was right back where she was when they had been young and wild and so very in love.
She leaned into him, kissing him with such force, their teeth clacked together. She did not give a damn. This was not the time for pretty lovemaking or for delicacy. This was an inferno which could only be extinguished in one fashion. He did not seem to mind her fervor. If anything, it spurred him on. He growled low in his throat and sank a finger inside her, keeping his thumb working over her pearl.
She was ready for him. Desperate for him. She had forgotten how long his fingers were, how delicious they felt inside her. He slid a second finger deep, curling them and reaching that secret place within that never failed to make her lose control. She did not stand a chance.
Pleasure roared through her, much like the thunder rumbling outside. She kissed him harder, whimpering as an intense wave of pleasure gripped her. She was soaring, flying. Lightning shot across the sky, flashing in an echo of the sensation spiraling through Nell. She had given herself pleasure in the three years of their separation. Of course, she had. But her touch had been nothing like his.
As the last ripples of her climax left her, he withdrew his fingers, ending the kiss. He tipped his head back into the chair, breathing heavily, staring at her. His dark-green gaze seared hers.
“Now is your chance to tell me to stop,” he rasped.
And she knew why. She knew, too, what he meant. He was making her complicit. But he did not need to, for she knew what she was doing. She was the one who began this, with the kiss. She had spent the last three years resenting him, aching for him. She was going to be selfish now. Just this once. She was going to take what she wanted. Find her pleasure.
And then she was going to move on, forget any of this had ever happened. Leave him behind in the ashes of their union.
First, she was going to have him.
One last time.
A lock of dark hair had fallen rakishly over his brow. She gently brushed it back. “Do not stop, Jack. I want you inside me.”
Truth. It did not mean she loved him. It did not mean she wanted to remain married to him. All it meant was that she lusted after him. Her body wanted his. That much had not changed.
“Thank Christ,” he muttered, reached between them to undo the falls of his trousers.
And then, the thick head of his cock was where his fingers had been. He ran it over her folds, slicking the evidence of her desire for him all over her, all over himself. He grazed the nub of her sex once, twice, sending a new jolt through her. She shimmied her hips, urging him on.
“Take what you want, Nellie,” he told her, running himself over her again.
She did not hesitate. Chasing his fingers away with hers, she gripped him. For a moment, she relished the weight of him in her hand, the velvety strength and heat. He was so smooth, so long. Hers.
For today alone.
She guided him to her cunny and sank down on him. He pumped into her at the same time. And he was deep, so deep. And it was good, so very good. He filled her, stretched her. Nell stilled, eyes closed as she absorbed the decadence of it, the forbidden pleasure.
They sighed as one. Thunder crashed. Lighting lit the sky for a fleeting moment. He felt so good, she never wanted to let him go. But that was a dangerous thought. Dangerous and foolish and wrong.
She rose on her knees, until he almost slid from her, and then she moved forward again, filling herself to the hilt. He took her nipple into his mouth and sucked. One of her hands gripped his shoulder while the other was still buried in his hair. She held him to her breast as she took what she wanted, increasing her pace, her breasts bobbing with each thrust.
“Oh, God Jack.” She was going to spend. Again.
He moved with her, increasing the pace and force of his thrusts. He buried his face in her throat, holding her close as they chased their passion together.
“Come for me, Nellie,” he whispered.
She did. She gave in to him. Obeyed. Her second release was every bit as potent as the first. She clenched on him, bliss shattering her. Overtaking her.
HEAVEN.THAT WASwhat she felt like.
Being inside his wife after years spent apart was exquisite. She tightened on him, clenching, drawing him deeper into the sweet recesses of her body. She was so wet, so hot. And he had been far too long without her.
He breathed in deeply, kissing her throat where her pulse raced, before tipping his head back to watch her once more. She was a goddess.Hisgoddess.
If he had thought the sight of her riding her horse a miracle, he had been terribly wrong. For that image paled in comparison to the sight of her riding him. Her breasts were bare, pink-tipped offerings crushed against his chest, the hard nipples grazing his chest with each thrust. They were just as he remembered: enough to fill his palms, and so exquisitely responsive.
