Hidden Currents (36 page)

His thumb flicked her clit and she moaned, her hips surging upward to try to get relief as the heat swept through her and became a fire. His mouth moved over her inner thigh again, and he blew gently into her damp heat. Rather than putting out the fire, the feel of his breath against her only ignited her more.

His tongue slid over her sex in a long, languid, very lazy stroke, as if they had all the time in the world and he was enjoying himself thoroughly. Her entire body tightened, shuddered and she moaned low in the back of her throat. He found those little moans and whimpers vibrated through his entire body and hardened him even more. Each time he elicited a soft little cry he felt it was a claiming of her, a branding, his mark, his scent, his victory, giving her pleasure, wrapping her up in erotic bliss.

He kissed her, tasted her, and then stabbed deep, completely at odds with his earlier slow attention. She nearly convulsed in shock.

“Jackson.”

His name hissed out between her teeth, another breathy little moan that vibrated through his entire body. Her face and body were flushed with arousal, her eyes nearly opaque, so glazed and dazed he wanted to keep her like that, head twisting desperately from side to side, her hips rising, searching for him.

He spread one hand on her belly, holding her in place while he lifted her hips to his mouth with the other and began to devour her. She went wild, bucking against his mouth while he played her body, enjoying the havoc he was wreaking, loving the way she panted and squirmed and tossed her head. Her moans were long and low and just as beautiful as the notes he created on the piano—more so. His tongue flicked back and forth over her clit and then he suckled, sending her screaming over the edge. He felt the waves of heat, the miracle of pleasure flooding her body and mind and the flow went straight to his mind and rushed to his cock.

He gave one last lick, felt a satisfying shudder go through her and he dropped her legs around his waist and simply lifted her. Elle wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face against his throat.

“I love you, Jackson. I know you’re trying not to think in terms of me belonging to you, but honestly, I want to belong to you.” Her voice was a whisper, a thread of sound. She was still trying to find her breath after her orgasm. “Make me yours. I want to feel you inside of me and know I belong to only you. I need that.” She rained kisses over his face and found his mouth almost blindly, tasting herself as their mouths welded together.

He laid her gently in the middle of the thick rug. “You taste sweet, like strawberries. I’m already addicted. I’m going to spend a lifetime eating you up.” He straddled her, leaning down to find her breasts with the heat of his mouth.

She gasped and arched into him. His hands came up, cupping the soft weight, thumbs flicking over her nipples, tugging and pulling and creating a continuous streak of lightning running from her breasts to her womb. She was frantic for him, for the feel and taste of him, reaching up to cradle his head to her breasts, her hips writhing beneath him. Her breath came in anxious little pants.

Jackson loved the way she moved against him, her body craving his. She held nothing back, a hot, sensuous woman needing him, wanting him buried deep inside her, stroking his cock with eager fingers, unashamed of her craving for him. It heightened his own pleasure to know she wanted him every bit as much as he wanted her.

Looking into her emerald eyes, he felt a jolt of something close to fear—no, not fear: terror. From the first day he’d heard her voice in that prison camp, so long ago, she’d been his world. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like without her, he didn’t even want to know, yet he’d tried to send her away tonight. What had he been thinking?

He rolled off her, lying beside her and caught her breasts in his hands, tugging at her nipples, until she gasped and came toward him.

“Straddle me, baby.” He wasn’t going to pin her down, not yet. Not until she could get used to his possession. There was no need to chance putting fear back in her eyes, not when they were so hot with passion. He guided her using pressure on her breasts, lifting his head to flick at the peaks with his tongue, forcing her to bend forward and down over the top of him.

He could feel the cool air on his jerking cock, enflam ing him further. He wanted to feel the clasp of her sheath, tight and velvet soft, clamping around him. She moaned softly as he slid his hands over her bottom, his large palms rubbing and massaging as he lifted her over his aching shaft. He guided her with her body over his and pushed his hips up as he brought her down over him. The feeling of her body opening like a flower, unfurling petals to take him in robbed him of breath and sent flames roaring through his veins.

Elle shivered as she settled her body over his, her eyes half-closed, savoring the feeling of fullness as he stretched her almost to burning. He didn’t move for a moment, allowing her to get used to his size before drawing her down farther, pushing through tight muscles and lodging so deep she thought he was nearly to her throat.

“Look at me, Elle,” Jackson instructed. “This—us together—I feel like I’m home at last. This is where I belong. Inside you. Look at me. Keep looking at me.”

The silken slide of her hair tumbled around her face as her gaze locked with his and she began to ride him at the urging of his strong hands on her hips. He moved with her, thrusting deep, fast and then slow, watching her face flush with desire, watching the heat in her eyes, the way her breathing changed to little frantic pants as her body coiled tighter and tighter around his.

Jackson cupped her breasts, thumbs teasing her nipples. Watching her eyes, he grasped her nipples and pinched, tugging her down and over him, seeing the heat flare in her gaze, her mouth open to give one of her sexy, mind-blowing moans as she bathed his cock in liquid fire.

He kept her body over his, taking complete control, reveling in her surrender as he took over the rhythm, impaling her hard and fast, driving her up the peak, seeking his own release in the pounding thrusts of his hips. His fingers dug deep into her soft flesh, holding her still, all the while keeping her gaze locked on his. He wanted to feel her surrender, to see the pleasure in her eyes. Then her breath caught in her throat. She whimpered as the first wave of fire tore up through her core and settled in her belly to spread like a fireball.

Her emerald gaze never left him. He watched the flush rise up her body to consume her. He watched her surrender to the hot rapture—to him. He watched her give herself over to him, body and soul completely. The beauty of her gift only added to his own release, and he let go of every thought, everything and simply gave himself to her.

The music of her soft moans surrounded him, taking him to another place where there was only her body clamping around his like a hot velvet vise, the liquid notes of pleasure that vibrated between them, as his body erupted with glorious, bone-melting release. Never once did she look away from him, drinking in his expression as they both floated together.

It was a long while before he stirred to push her tumbling hair from her face and slide his hand over the nape of her neck. “You’re where you belong, Elle.”

She nodded. “I feel like I’m home, Jackson. At last. I’m here.” Tears shimmered in her eyes.

He pulled her close to flick them away with his tongue. “I hope you’re not too sleepy, baby, because I’m going to want to make love to you all night.”

For an answer, she brought her mouth down on his and let her body melt around him.

15

JACKSON groaned and turned his head to look out the window at the dawn creeping across the sky. He was sprawled on his back on the thick carpet in front of the fireplace in his music room. Most of the candles had burned low and a few were out altogether. The scent of lavender and sex lay heavy in the air and he breathed it in. Elle and Jackson. It was a heady fragrance and his body stirred in spite of the fact that he’d made love to her all night.

Elle lay draped over his body, her breasts across his thighs, her lips against his cock, her hands cupping his balls. Every breath she drew, every time she exhaled, he felt it against his softened shaft. His cock jerked and pulsed in time to her breathing, but Jackson lay limp and drained, basking in the aftermath of the best sex he’d ever had. If he’d had anything at all left in him, he would have been all over her, but he couldn’t move. He could only lie there feeling absolute satisfaction. Pure contentment.

He wanted to wake up every morning for the rest of his life, just like this, with Elle over the top of him, her soft breasts on his thighs and her mouth against his cock. He felt alive. He felt renewed. He felt he had a home for the first time in his life.

He ran his fingers through the thick mass of red silk pouring down Elle’s back and spreading across his thighs. Her hair looked like a sensuous waterfall of shimmering red draped over his hips and legs making him wish he could move. He was starving, but he wasn’t altogether certain he had any strength left to even get up and cook let alone make love to her again.

Elle stirred, her hair sliding over his bare skin as she moved slightly. Her warm breath teased his cock. Her tongue darted out and licked him. His body jerked.

“You’re a little demon,” he accused. “You’re going to kill me.”

She nuzzled his groin, inhaling, drawing in his masculine scent, unique to Jackson, filling her mind with him, and what she’d like to do to him. He matched her quick inhale with one of his own, reading the erotic images in her mind, knowing she was deliberately teasing him. Her breasts pressed against his upper thighs as she shifted, tantalizing him with the soft feel of them. Her nipples brushed against him, hard, tempting peaks. All woman. His woman.

“I love you, Elle,” he said, meaning it with every bit of his soul. He wrapped her long hair around his fist, shifting as she nuzzled again, this time her mouth moving sensuously against him. He closed his eyes. “A man could get used to waking up to you.”

Elle moved her head so she could easily reach her prize. Her tongue teased again in a long, lazy curl. “I could lie here all day like this.” It felt decadent. For the first time in months, maybe even years, she felt completely relaxed.

His hands massaged the nape of her neck. “You do whatever you want, baby. I’m just going to lie here and enjoy you enjoying yourself, because frankly, I can’t move.”

She blew out another warm breath, bathing him in heat. “So I have you utterly at my mercy?”

“That would be affirmative.”

“I like you that way.” Her voice purred with satisfaction. “You didn’t tell me you play the piano.” She stroked her tongue in a long, languid caress from the base of his shaft to under the crown. “That was very bad of you.”

His body shuddered as her tongue did a dancing little spiral along the most sensitive spot beneath the head, deliberately forcing the air from his lungs.

He had to wait until he could talk before he managed an answer. “I didn’t want to ruin my image.”

“That’s right.” She hadn’t moved her head at all, but somehow she managed to engulf his cock and just hold him in her mouth, swallowing, as if pulling him down her throat. His body swelled involuntarily, impossibly, aching with need just that fast, filling her mouth and throat. She released him and blew another long breath of warm air over him. “I’d forgotten about your badass image.” She licked down his groin and gently drew his soft sac into her mouth.

Jackson shuddered with pleasure. There was nothing at all hurried or frenzied about Elle’s movements. Her languid, lazy movements were both elegant and feline, arousing him even more. She nibbled and sucked, paying him little attention, as if she was a cat, lapping at cream. Her mouth drew him deep, held him for several long, extraordinary seconds and then she would release him and resume her catlike licking.

It was slow, exquisite torture. She brought him back to life and then some. Every nerve ending he had became centered in his groin. His breath hitched when she moved down his legs and bit at his thighs, her hair dragging sensuously over his hard, thick shaft, causing every muscle in his body to tighten.

“Mmm, baby,” she said, her voice dreamy. “I love the way you feel, hot and hard and so alive.”

She drew him into her mouth again, sucking strongly, tongue sliding around him in lazy curls that nearly stopped his heart. He couldn’t speak. He couldn’t even think. The world around him dissolved, went red and hazy. Her mouth was wet and hot, an instrument of unbelievable pleasure. His breath exploded out of his lungs in a heated rush. She drew him deep, her throat closing around him like a tight fist, squeezing, holding him there for a long count and then, once again swallowing as if drawing him deeper, her muscles working him over until bright lights exploded in the back of his brain.

He tried not to move, knowing if she stopped, his heart might cease beating. She was moving again, suckling as if starving, and when he touched her mind, he found—desire. Hunger. A craving for him, to please him, to take him beyond every limit and give him not pleasure but ecstasy. Her driving need to please him was more of an aphrodisiac than anything else could have been. Not only was she enjoying giving him pleasure, she was deriving pleasure as well.

She used her tongue, a velvet rasp that sent streaks of flames over him, her teeth, gently scraping and nibbling along his shaft, careful to watch his every reaction, the hot suction of her mouth drawing him closer and closer to the edge. He tilted his head, needing her now, needing her to take him deeper, shocked at how it felt each time he thrust and she took him in, her muscles squeezing around him.

His moans were loud, filling the room, a sweet music that she hummed along to, the vibration adding to the intensity of his pleasure. She sent shock waves through his body as she began to take him deeper and pull strongly, milking him, her hand on his sac, her mouth a miracle of magic. He felt as if he was an inferno, a white-hot flame, as thunder pounded in his chest and a roaring began in his ears. His toes curled and every muscle strained. The tendons in his neck stood out and he felt every drop of blood center and pulse in his groin. Hot. On fire. “So fucking hot, baby,” he tried to murmur, but he couldn’t find enough air to breathe the words to her.