Part 25 (1/2)
Her voice seemed to shake him from his stupor. He slipped her shoes off her feet, dropping one and then the other over the side of the bed. His fingers played with the waistband of her panties. ”I'm the captain of this o.r.g.a.s.m,” he said, as if he'd been privy to her little fantasy. ”This time I'm the one who's going to give it to you.”
He slid the last piece of her clothing free, and she watched him tuck the little ball of fabric in his bedside table drawer. ”You only get them back if you let me give you your climax. Take it yourself, and I take the underwear.”
Panty ransom? She would have laughed, but he was giving her a burning, smoldering, serious look. So she stifled her little nervous giggle. ”Okay.”
He stacked a couple of pillows against the wood-slat headboard. Next, he pushed her up against them, propping her there. ”It'll give you a good view,” he said. ”Now put your hands here and here.” He moved them himself, making her curl her fingers around a slat on either side of her head.
It was Jane who was breathing hard now. Her b.r.e.a.s.t.s trembled with each inhale and exhale. Still wearing his unfastened pants, he swung a leg over her body to straddle her, his head at the level of her stiffened nipples. ”You hold still,” he instructed, and then he bent his head to them.
She bowed into the wet heat, the avid tugs. Griffin tightened his knees against her legs, keeping her thighs pressed close together as he sucked her into his mouth. At first it was just the taut bead of the nipple, then he widened to take in more of her breast, then he drew his mouth away, letting the soft mound slide out until his teeth caught only the tight nub. She cried out at the little sting and then cried again when he lifted completely away. But he only moved to the other breast, performing the same salacious, delicious acts on it as one hand played with the already wet nipple.
Desire flowed outward from his touch. Her fingers tightened on the slats as he continued working over her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Holding still became impossible. She twisted her torso, her lower half still caught by his powerful thighs. Then he was scooting down, trailing kisses toward her navel. He insinuated a leg between her knees, and then he was grasping her there, one in each hand, opening her to his gaze.
Chills raced over her body. He looked at her soft, swollen center. ”Pretty,” he said, his nostrils flaring, his blue eyes blazing. One finger swiped through the drenched tissues and he brought it to his mouth. Sucked.
Jane's breath seized.
”Tasty,” Griffin said, then slid lower.
Oh, G.o.d. She understood his intention, and instantly s.h.i.+fted her legs, trying to bar him access.
He glanced up, one eyebrow raised.
”I don't... I've never...” She couldn't get out the words.
”Well, I do,” Griffin said. ”And there won't be any *never' about this.” Then he slid his palms from her knees to her inner thighs, widening her body, opening the delicate folds of flesh.
She really was the captive of a pirate. Because he was plundering again, his mouth taking her prisoner. The wet thrust of his tongue had her making a high, keening noise. Then it took a short excursion north, where he worried her c.l.i.toris with the tip, las.h.i.+ng it with tiny, measured strokes of pleasure.
He dipped low again, penetrating her with a firm wet thrust, then back up to the knot of nerves that now was pulsing with its own demand. Over and over, down and up, back and forth, in and out. Jane's muscles went tense, started a fine tremble, and she could only hold fast as she watched his dark head move between the paleness of her thighs.
The view, as he'd known, only took her higher.
Each of her short pants ended in a moan. He glanced up, and she saw it all, his hot blue eyes, his extended tongue, his mouth glazed from her own wetness. It twisted her arousal tighter, and then he went after her c.l.i.toris again, sucking it into his mouth as two fingers speared her body.
His impalement tossed her overboard and into wave after wave of o.r.g.a.s.mic bliss. She pitched and rolled with pleasure, wanting to ride them forever. Griffin stayed with her, his mouth easing as the seas calmed. On her final shudder, though, he still possessed her, his fingers deep inside of her.
She opened her eyes to find him watching her face.
”That's putting you first, Jane,” he said.
In the haze of postclimax bliss, the words didn't register. She only knew that she needed more of him. She protested as he slid his fingers from her and caught at his arm as he moved across the bed.
He laughed, low and smug. ”I'm only getting a condom.”
It took too long. But finally he was over her, inside her, filling her again, and her inner tissues twitched as he worked her with his p.e.n.i.s, finding the last twitches of the o.r.g.a.s.m still waiting for him there.
His thrusts were heavy and decisive, and she opened wide in every way to accept him. His mouth found hers, and she opened there too, taking in the thrust of his tongue. She twisted against his chest, her sensitive nipples abraded by his hair.
”Can you go again?” he said, his voice breathless.
”What?” Her brain wasn't working; only her body made sense to her now. Her body and his.
Instead of answering, he reached between them and found her c.l.i.toris once more. He stroked it gently, an irresistible counterpoint to the intense driving rhythm of his shaft. She lifted into both, her hips rolling upward, and then she was shuddering and Griffin was pus.h.i.+ng deep, deep, deeper, drowning them both in sharp, sweet bliss.
When she came to herself, he was sliding back into the bed. He had a warm washcloth that he drew over her face and neck, down her midsection, and finally to the still-throbbing place between her thighs. He held it there.
She felt drugged by s.e.x and intimacy. He used the intoxication to worm yet more out of her. ”You think I should relax, Jane? Then fine, we're going to be relaxing like this a lot. Until we leave Beach House No. 9, I'm saving all my one percent for you.”
Drowsy and pliant, she could only murmur. ”Yes, sir. Aye, aye.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN.
GRIFFIN FOUND Jane standing at the sh.o.r.eline, her toes being teased by the foamy outermost hem of the incoming surf. Approaching her from behind, he sighed a little at how very Jane she looked in a lemon-colored two-piece bathing suit. Petal-like ruffles cut high on her tush, and he knew there were matching ones edging the deep vee of the halter-style top. She looked both sweet and tart, like a lemonade Popsicle.
She made him hungry.
He slid one arm around her waist, and she squealed. He growled in her ear as he pulled her back against him. ”The eels have landed.”
With a twist, she squirmed out of his hold. ”You scared me!” But before he could respond, she clutched his arm with one hand and pointed with the other. ”But I'm glad you're here. You need to rescue the boys.”
Duncan and Oliver stood in the surf, the water swirling around the flapping hems of their hibiscus-print swim trunks. They were tan despite the sunscreen his sister slathered on them. Oliver, the fairer of the two miscreants, had a white triangle of goop on his nose. Between them they held an inflatable raft, but they were having trouble keeping it steady. Every time they tried to throw themselves on it, belly down, it popped free of their weight and dumped them in the shallow water.
”Sweetheart, they're fine.” The breeze blew a piece of her golden-hued hair across her face, and he caught it with his hand and tucked it behind her ear. ”Where's your lotion? Your nose is turning pink again.”
She cast another anxious look toward the water. ”Are you sure? I told Tess I'd keep an eye on them while she gets Russ some juice. The baby's been very fussy today.”
”You have to stop involving yourself with my sister's kids.” He crossed his arms over his chest. ”Thanks to you, I had to suffer through an hour-long meeting with Old Man Monroe about the presentation to Rebecca's cla.s.s. He was so cantankerous I let Private dig for bones in his flower beds before we left.”
Not only had the antique been his usual curmudgeonly self, he'd been his usual nosy curmudgeonly self. ”What's changed?” he'd demanded. ”You look rested, son, like you might actually be sleeping.”
Griffin had shrugged a shoulder. ”You're my worst nightmare. Guess I'm just getting used to you being next door.”
The coot had slapped one age-speckled hand on the tabletop. ”It's that pretty woman. She's smart, so I don't know what she can see in you, but Jane's doing you some good.”
He hadn't denied it. Jane was smoothing some of his rough spots, and he wasn't going to feel guilty about it either. They both understood the situation was temporary. Though very satisfying.
”h.e.l.l's bells, boy,” Rex had said, his mouth dropping open. ”You're smiling.”
”So?” he'd countered, not even bothering to scowl.
”So don't screw this up,” the old man had cautioned. ”You've got a good reason to beat back that darkness inside you now. Don't use it to shove her away instead.”
”Griffin?”
Jane's voice jerked him back to the present. ”What?”