Alistair renewed his attention to her breasts. He could swear he’d never seen a more beautiful pair. They were the perfect size for her slender frame, emphasizing the petite curvature of her waist and balancing lusciously curved hips. What a travesty the latest styles were, with their high waists and straight, shapeless skirts. While he’d imagined her having a magnificent bosom, the reality was a treasure found. It would take a great deal of time to become indifferent to such charms. He would have to do his best to extend her stay on the island. When she left him, he wanted to be certain he’d had his fill of her. He could not return to having the damnable cravings that had plagued him the past several years.
He straddled her. Taking a moment to enjoy the view of her upthrust breasts and taut belly, he debated where to begin.
“Alistair,” she breathed, tugging at her bindings.
Brute that he was, he found that slight show of struggle profoundly arousing. Combined with the breathless way she said his name, he was sorely pressed to hold himself back for sobriety’s sake. He reached down and adjusted the fit of his breeches over his cockstand.
Jessica stilled, eyes riveted to the movement of his hands. She licked her lower lip, and he wondered if she’d ever taken a man in her mouth before. Today was not the day to progress to such bedsport, but one day …
Made as comfortable as he could expect to be under the circumstances, Alistair decided to continue working his way down her torso. He set one hand on either side of her head and lowered his chest to hers. He slid his knees back so he was levered over her. His thighs pinned hers down, while the spread between them allowed his aching cock to be cradled between her closed shins.
He settled in to feast, his mouth seeking and embracing the nipple he hadn’t yet had the pleasure of attending to. She hissed as he suckled, the tip of her breast puckering against his tongue. She was so sensitive, and very responsive. The sounds she made as he licked the tautened peak were a bawdy delight. For all the civility she displayed in public, in bed she was unrestrained in vocalizing her pleasure. The sounds she made, the low moans and sharp pants, became aphrodisiacs.
This was the woman he’d seen in the Pennington woods. This was the lover he had dreamed of and hungered for until his gut ached.
Cupping her other breast in his hand, he kneaded the swollen flesh, relishing a surge of pure masculine satisfaction. Her body readily responded to his ministrations. He knew she had to be slick and hot between her legs, and he moved lower to see the evidence of her desire with his own eyes. He needed to taste it on his tongue and feel her tremble against his lips.
He licked into her navel, eliciting a shiver that racked her slender frame. She was ticklish, which he loved. He could make her laugh at will, and he was delighted. The sound was warm and throaty. Seductive. A bit rusty from lack of use, but he intended to rectify that. Her laughter came from the sensual woman inside her and not the chilly Lady Tarley who was the epitome of aristocratic hauteur.
Her belly quivered as he neared the patch of dark blond curls that shielded her sex.
Looking up, he met her gaze. “You like watching.”
“And you like being watched. We have already established you are an exhibitionist.”
Her prim and proper voice, tempered by panting, made him smile. “Only when you are the observer.”
“I want to touch you.”
“Why?”
“How will my memory linger with you, if I leave no imprint?”
Alistair responded by sliding one thigh between hers, parting her legs. If she thought they would have only this one indiscretion, she was sorely mistaken. But he thought it best not to put it in quite those terms yet. “You may have your way with me another day.”
Before she could reply, he lifted and draped one sleek thigh over his shoulder. Her sudden intake of breath increased his anticipation. Her eyes were half-lidded, her kiss-swollen lips parted, her chest heaving with rapid breaths. She lifted her hips to his mouth in bold provocation. The act was not new to her. Alistair both envied Tarley and admired him. The viscount had possessed everything a man could want—he’d retained respectability and popularity, embraced an unfashionably happy marriage, and enjoyed a satisfying sexual life with a socially esteemed wife many believed was above such base needs.
Alistair could offer her so little of what Tarley had had. Aside from coin and a head for business, there was nothing to recommend him beyond his passion for her and his skill in bed. And perhaps his lack of shame and willingness to treat her as an equal.
Jessica lifted her other leg and rested it on his shoulder. She arched one brow in silent challenge.
“Temptress.” He parted the plump folds of her sex and ground his hips into the bed, attempting to relieve the nearly unbearable throbbing of his neglected cock. “You are even perfect here.”
Pointing his tongue, he traced the delicate folds and crevices before circling the distended tip of her clitoris. She was as wet as he’d hoped, the silken skeins of her lust clinging to the petal-soft skin, her body’s primitive plea for a hard cock to fill her.
“Yes …” she breathed. “Yes.”
Alistair fluttered his tongue over the clenching opening, groaning as her response became more frantic. Tilting his head, he licked into the tender, spasming tissues. Her thready moan enflamed him, urged him to a faster pace, until he was fucking her fiercely with his tongue. Ravenous, he ate at her, drinking in her taste and the sounds she made. She began to plea for him to finish her, then to threaten him with reprisal. He pushed farther, to the point where she began to promise him anything if only he would ease her torment.
There was a great deal he could do with such a promise.
He licked along her drenched slit, then pushed her over the edge with a lush, open-mouthed kiss to her clitoris. With parted lips and gentle suckling, he stroked over the bundle of nerves with the flat of his tongue. The first flutters of climax rippled through her, and at the height of her extremity he slid two fingers deep into the tightness of her too-long neglected body.
The headboard creaked as Jessica fought against her restraints, her delicate inner muscles tugging at his pumping fingers in time with the workings of his mouth. He tongued her mercilessly, giving no quarter, spurring her to another orgasm before the first had fully eased its grip. She screamed when she came again, her mouth pressed to her biceps to muffle the sound.
He growled as she shuddered, as hungry for her pleasure as he’d ever been for his own. Pushing a third finger in with the others, he worked the tight flesh. The thought of how snugly she’d hold his cock increased his frenzy. Raking the edge of his teeth lightly over the hard knot of nerves, he pushed her into another climax on the heels of the second. He kept at her until she came again, driving her hard and fast. Relentless in his need to own her desire completely.
“No more …” she pled hoarsely, shrinking away from his avid mouth. “Please …”
Alistair lifted his head with reluctance, his drenched fingers pulling free of her quivering flesh. Wiping his mouth on the inside of her thigh, he slid his shoulders out from under her lax legs and then his body straight off the bed.
“Where are—” she began as he stood.
“I can’t stay.” He reached to free her wrists and retrieve his cravat. As the knots loosened and she pulled her arms down to her sides, he saw her wince and understood the cause. She’d pulled tight against the bonds with every wrenching orgasm, stretching muscles unused to such abuse. He reached for her shoulders and massaged them, pressing gently but firmly into the sore muscles to alleviate their discomfort.