No. She’d never experienced anything like Jacob Latimer before.
She made a disbelieving sound. Her elbows pressed into the pillows and her back arched as he rubbed her clit. She burned.
“No, you definitely can’t hide that. You’re so wet. Are you this wet just from having me suck on your pretty breasts?” she heard him say. She realized she’d clamped her eyelids closed when he pushed his fingers into the cleft of her labia.
“Does that surprise you?” she asked through a choked voice. He really worked some magic with those long, knowing fingers.
“A little, yeah. It’s not often a woman gets this wet, this fast, without anything but a little breast play.”
Her eyes sprang open. His face hovered over hers. He’d been watching her reaction to his touch closely.
“Are you complaining?” she whispered.
“A man doesn’t complain over a blessing,” he said, his gaze narrowing on her mouth. A moan trickled past her lips. She was so hot, and his fingers felt so good. Her clit simmered. She was going to come soon. Was that the pressure of his cock against her hip, the heat of his arousal penetrating his jeans? She wanted to touch him. She wanted to hold him while she trembled in climax.
“Let me put down my arms,” she said.
“No, honey. You keep them right there,” he said, the quick, gruff quality of his reply and the slant of his mouth telling her he meant exactly what he said. A ripple of excitement went through her, igniting her. She twisted her head on the pillow, pushing up on her pelvis. The friction was optimal.
“I’m going to come.”
“Of course you are.” He rubbed harder. Faster. Her lips parted, and he caught her cry with his mouth.
He kissed her forcefully while wave after wave of pleasure shuddered through her. It struck her in a dazed fashion while she was coming that he seemed to be drinking in her pleasure . . . making it his own. While she was still in the last clutches of her climax, his mouth blazed down her neck and chest. He drew on a sensitized nipple yet again, and she bucked against him as another sharp shudder of pleasure seized her. He caught her to him, holding her fast against him as his tongue laved her, and her climax waned to delicious tremors.
Somewhere in the midst of her pleasure, she found herself moving without thought, her fingers delving into his thick, short hair, her fingertips scraping his scalp. She came back to herself at the realization that his eyes were open, and that he was watching her face while he drew gently on her breast. Her sex tickled with rearousal at the vision of him as his cheeks hollowed out slightly as he sucked. He seemed calm, but she sensed an eruption brewing just below the surface. His hand moved between her thighs, and she shivered.
“How do you do that?” she whispered hoarsely, amazed that he could light a spark in her flesh when she’d just had an orgasm.
He slipped his lips off her nipple with an erotic tug. The crest looked rosy and wet, swollen and very hard from his attentions. Even the air seemed to stimulate the sensitive nerves. He shifted, and she brought his head down to her own. Their mouths brushed together and clung.
“Do what?” he asked, plucking at her lips.
“Turn me on so easily. Is it just practice?”
“No,” he replied, sitting up slightly. She became aware that he was shoving her unfastened bra, dress, and sweater down one of her arms. She sat up slightly, assisting him. When he’d gotten the sleeves off her arms, he pushed the fabric of her dress down to her waist. She lifted her hips and he flung the garment past her pelvis and down her legs. He did it all with methodical precision.
Then his hand opened on her outer thigh, and she once again sensed his focus. He caressed her warmly from hip to waist to rib. He met her stare again. Although he didn’t speak, she thought he wanted to say something else.
“What?” she asked, smiling, collapsing back on the pillows. She felt flushed and surprisingly comfortable following her climax. Happy, like she’d just made some kind of unexpected, amazing discovery. Her fingers trailed down his neck. She slid her fingertips beneath his collar, feeling the ripple of pleasure that went through him at her touch.
Suddenly, his eyes seemed to blaze. He caught her stroking hand with his and pressed it tautly back on the pillows. With it in place, he reached for her other wrist. Placing them next to each other, he pinned both her arms in place with one hand. Unlike before, he’d trapped her hands higher on the pillows. The position stretched her skin over her ribs and thrust her breasts forward.
“It’s you,” he said. She blinked in surprise. His gaze moved down over her slowly, creating a trail of pr
ickly awareness along her skin. She saw her body every day of her life, but it suddenly looked and felt completely different to her, seeing it through his eyes. She was mostly naked, save some ivory-colored bikini briefs. Her body was cast in the pink hues of the setting sun. He opened his hand on her belly and stroked her ribs and then along her sides, holding her wrists tightly over her head the whole time. She shivered in pleasure, her back arching off the cushion, as if she instinctively craved more of his touch. He felt her response and glanced up at her.
“I find you exceptionally beautiful,” he said.
She gave a small bark of dazed laughter. He found her to be the exception, among all the world-class beauties he constantly had at his disposal? His expression darkened. Her eyes widened when he brought his face closer to hers, and she sensed his fierceness.
“You don’t believe me?” he breathed out, sounding a little ominous.
“It stretches the imagination, that’s all. I’m okay-looking. Pretty, even—I’ll give you that. But exceptionally beautiful?” she asked skeptically, smiling. “I saw those women at your party last night.”
“I didn’t.”
She blinked at his succinct reply.