With an appreciative growl, he gave a sharp tug and her nipple sprang free. He hooked a finger below the neckline, dragging it further, until her entire breast was bared.
“Mmm…” He stared at it with a quiet reverence before he began planting small kisses around her nipple, each one bringing him closer to the hard point. Soon, he hovered above it, hot breath caressing her skin. She squirmed beneath him, arching to push herself straight into the heat of his open mouth. With a groan, he clamped around her.
He sucked, the warmth of his tongue enveloping her nipple, interrupted here and there by the rough drag of teeth. Josephine’s head fell back at the exquisite feeling—too much and too little all at the same time.
“So perfect.” He nuzzled the valley between her breasts, shifting the fabric to bare her completely.
While his mouth closed over her nipple once again, one hand cupped her other breast, his rough palm alternating between squeezing and rubbing as his mouth worked its magic. Torture. Sweet torture. Her back arched and her mouth fell open, words forming and dissolving in the span of a second.
Finally, when she thought she could bear it no longer, he lifted his head, eyes dark with desire. He grinned and let his fingers trace the hem of her shift. Slowly, deliberately, he gathered the fabric, lifting it inch by inch. Gooseflesh rose in its wake, her breath catching as he exposed more of her to the lamplight. When it bunched at her waist, he sat up, straddling her. Aching heat coiled low in her belly, mingling with the warmth that pulsed quietly through her. She shifted beneath him, seeking relief, but the motion only deepened the sensation.
He sat in silence, his gaze burning into her as he took her in, thumbs tracing lazy circles at her sides as he waited. For what? What did he want her to do? Bare him as he had done her? She almost growled her frustration at her lack of knowledge.
With shaking fingers, she unbuttoned his shirt, letting it fall open. Even cloaked in the shadows, the muscles of his chest stood out, each one carved and honed. Her mouth went dry as she feasted on the sight. She lifted her hands and laid them flat against his skin, marveling at the solid heat and strength beneath her palms. Men in Tortuga often worked shirtless, so why did seeing him affect her so? Her fingers flexed outward, skimming over soft blonde hairs. The faint matting grew thicker, forming a trail that arrowed down toward his waistband. She followed it, and his breath hissed out.
With a soft growl, he leaned down and captured her mouth once more. This time, he kissed her slowly, soft lips teasing hers open. He shifted his position and her eyes widened. The thin linen between them did little to disguise the bulge pressing against her.
Was it…? Her cheeks flamed as she remembered the very same protrusion pressing against her bottom at the tavern. Tentatively, she reached between them, her fingers brushing the rigid warmth there. Her pulse jumped. He rocked his hips, grinding himself fully into her palm and she gasped.So hard. She gave a tentative squeeze. He groaned into her mouth, the sound low and rough, reverberating through her like a spark to dry tinder.
She fumbled with the buttons at his waistband, the sudden need to feel his flesh against her skin consuming her. He didn’t stop her when she slid her hand inside, her fingers tangling in coarse curls. And then, the smooth heat of his manhood bumped her knuckles. He sucked a harsh breath in when she turned to hold him.
She slipped down his length, her lips parting as she explored him—velvet soft, yet forged like iron.
“Be careful, or I’ll be finding my release in your hand, love.” He reached between them and caught her wrist, pulling her from his pulsing heat.
His palm settled on her ankle, cool flesh tempering the fire raging within her. But the relief didn’t last as he skimmed it up her calf, pressed it to her thigh. Heat spiraled from her core as his fingertips eased closer and closer to her most private place. Somehow, she knew if he would only touch her there, the pressure would ease.
“Please.” The word tumbled free at the same time as she lifted her hips, bringing him agonizingly closer.
He pushed through her curls, one finger flicking out to touch her, there and gone in a flash. But that minuscule touch sent her senses spiraling, giving a split second of blessed relief. A sound built in the back of her throat, and when he touched her again, a moan broke free. This time, he kept the contact, rubbing a slow circle.
Josephine’s eyes fluttered shut as something fierce and unfamiliar began to twist and curl behind his finger. Her back arched, hips colliding with his, and his growl rumbled through the room. Hemoved, the solid weight of his knee parting her thighs. A moment later, his other one followed, spreading her legs to either side of him. She lifted her head, but couldn’t see over her bunched shift. Even the thought of being open before him sent molten awareness rippling through her.
The ache between her legs verged on unbearable, throbbing with a need she could not name. Her thoughts fractured as his length settled there, nudging her with blunt heat. His breath hitched and he dropped his head, lips grazing her neck. She shivered and he groaned.
“So wet. So soft.” The barely decipherable words sent a thrill through her.
He shifted, his flesh slipping up and down her most private spot. Each movement sent tendrils of exquisite pleasure radiating through her, each one stronger than the last as he pressed closer and closer to her core. With a subtle rock, the very tip of him pushed there, and the throbbing ache in her core seemed to bunch up tight. He went still and she nearly cried out.
“May I?” his voice came gravely, between pants.
She might die if he didn’t.
“Please.” The word came on a gasp. “Yes.”
His hands closed around her hips, holding her in place as he thrust forward. A splinter of pain burned from where they joined, wrenching a sharp gasp from her.
He froze, his breathing hoarse and fast. “I’m sorry. I thought…at the tavern…the way you…” His eyes pressed shut as he trailed off.
A thread of shame twisted in her belly—he’d thought she was a lightskirt. That the easy laughter and boldness had meant she had experience. Seconds passed as he hovered motionless above her and the uncomfortable tightness began to ease.
“I…” She couldn’t form words. Couldn’t form a rational thought as an all-consuming need gripped her—the need for more. More of him. More of this.
“Tell me to stop.” He began to pull free, the movement sending an explosion of feeling radiating from her core. She gasped again, this time from the pleasure. If he stopped, she might never experience anything like this again. The thought sent a chill nipping at the edges of all the warmth throbbing through her body and her fingers curled, digging into his back.
“No.”
“Miss—” She lifted a finger to his lips before he could address her formally and his brows pushed together. “You don’t understand.”
