Jess would have told him she had no desire to hasten his leavetaking, but he began to thrust. As fluid as his movements were, they were rougher than they’d been previously. Harder. Every downstroke hit the end of her, the thick club of his magnificent penis stroking over nerve endings in a contact that curled her toes. She clawed at his back, pulling him closer.
He brushed his lips across her temple, then rubbed his cheek against hers, sharing the perspiration misting his skin. “This time,” he whispered, “I’m going to fuck you, Jess. The way I’ve needed to fuck you all these years.”
The coarseness of his hoarsely voiced threat was opposed to his tender kiss. Her hunger sharpened. He caught the back of her knee and pulled her leg upward, opening her wider. His next hard lunge wrung a cry from her, the sensation of his endless penetration bringing a fierce pleasure bordering on pain. She bit her lip to stifle further sound.
“Let me hear you.” With his palms on the mattress, he supported his torso easily. His hips were held aloft by his knees, affording him impressive fluidity of movement. With her leg hooked around his biceps and her pelvis canted upward, she had no defense against him. His cock plunged and retreated with blurring speed, his hips lifting and falling, his heavy sac smacking against her in a swift erotic rhythm. “Tell me how much you like it,” he purred. “… how good it feels …”
Soft sobs of pleasure escaped her, spilling from her mindlessly. His large body mantled hers, dominated her, left her with no awareness beyond him. Everything she clung to faded away, leaving her with only base desire and heated yearning, every cell in her body attuned to the man who rode her with marked possessiveness.
“Jess …” He groaned. Sweat dripped from his hair as his hips pistoned against hers. “I will never tire of this. Of you. My God … I don’t think I can stop.”
“Don’t stop.” Jess slung her free leg over his hips and possessed him in kind, flexing into his pounding tempo. “Don’t. Stop.”
Her womb clenched desperately, the rush of orgasm licking across her skin like fire, whiplashes of pleasure cutting through the outer shell she’d lived in her entire life. The violence of his lovemaking rocked her to the core, leaving her defenseless against his relentless siege on her emotions. She felt herself unraveling, her eyes burning with a sudden wash of tears.
Alistair watched her as she fell apart beneath him, his azure eyes feverishly bright in the semidarkness. She shook with the violence of her climax, moaning when he thrust deep and rolled his hips, applying the perfect pressure to her clitoris to keep her coming and coming and coming.
She wrapped her arms around his nape and lifted to him, taking the connection she needed in a lush, fervent kiss. The swollen tissues of her sex rippled along the length of his throbbing penis, luring him to begin thrusting again.
Releasing her leg, he caught her up, his arms sliding beneath her shoulders and embracing her tightly. His lips moved across her cheek, his breath gusting hot and fast across her ear.
“My turn,” he growled, gripping her shoulders and lunging powerfully. “Hold me.”
Jess pressed her face into his sweat-slick chest and held on, absorbing the feel of his body flexing and working against her. The sweet friction of his plunging strokes threatened to push her over the edge again, but she resisted, wanting to experience Alistair’s race to orgasm. He’d spent the afternoon focused on her, restraining the sexual animal she knew was in him. Now, finally, he seemed to be losing his grip on his steely control, the ferocity of his passion betraying a depth of emotion that might rival hers.
She felt the tension grip him, heard his teeth grind as he fought it. “Come in me,” she urged, accepting the pounding of his hips and cock. All her reserve was burned away by the heat of his lust, leaving behind a woman brave enough and wanton enough to say the libidinous words that would incite him to madness. “You feel so good … so good …”
“Damnation,” he hissed, swelling inside her. The first hard, thick spurt made her gasp in delight. He jerked against her, shuddering with every wrenching pulse, his hands fisting in the bedclothes on either side of her head.
He came hard and long, groaning her name, rubbing his face and torso against her as if to mark her with his scent. Jess took it all, cradling him as he shattered like she had mere moments earlier, anchoring him in the midst of the storm.
Alistair’s fingers rubbed restlessly across the wood grain of the table in the great cabin, his gaze on Jessica as she spoke to the captain over supper.
She wore a high-necked gown to hide the evidence of Alistair’s bite, the soft grayish-purple hue of the silk a reminder of her widowhood. As he’d known she would, she looked well fucked, her color high and her lips swollen from his kisses. Her eyes were bright and her voice throaty, while the expressive movements of her hands and arms were marked by a more pronounced sensual grace. He’d never seen her appear so relaxed or look more beautiful, yet his pleasure in that accomplishment was marred by agitation.
He was mad for her, enamored as he’d never been of another woman. Yet she seemed far more composed than he was. His future had altered drastically this day; everything he’d considered inviolate—his bachelorhood, his freedom to come and go as he pleased, his ability to avoid Society whenever and however he wished—was gone. Jessica would now dictate the paths his life would traverse from this point forward, because he couldn’t proceed without her. It was a revelation that shook him. He had long known he was meant to have her; he hadn’t realized until this afternoon that he was meant to keep her.
Alistair heaved out his breath and ran a rough hand through his hair. Jess glanced at him over the rim of her wine-filled glass and frowned. He waved her concern away with an impatient flick of his wrist.
He had gotten more than he’d bargained for with her. Her generosity in bed extended far beyond the gift of her body. She held nothing back. Tears, smiles, provocative whispers … His back bore the marks of her nails, but it was the interior cuts that stung now. She’d allowed him to see every emotion filtering through her as he made love to her, and that knowledge flayed him open. Every time she’d held him tightly at the extremity of his climax, as if to hold him together, she sliced a little deeper.
How in hell could she sit there so serenely after what they’d gone through that afternoon? It seemed almost as if the ramifications of what had transpired escaped her, yet he knew that couldn’t be true. Jessica wasn’t the kind of woman who engaged in indiscriminate sex. The connection for her had to be twofold—one of mind and body. She had to be engaged more than she appeared, but her damned inviolate perfection of deportment shielded her too well. Meanwhile, he was coming apart at the seams and couldn’t hide it.
The walls of the great cabin closed in on him. His breath shortened and he grew overwarm. He slipped a finger between his cravat and his neck, attempting to alleviate the feeling of constriction.
Supper seemed to last an eternity. He refused the customary glass of port and excused himself as soon as he could politely do so. He offered a brief smile to Jessica, then fled. Reaching the main deck, Alistair sucked in a deep breath of crisp sea air and gripped the gunwale, waiting for the restoration of his equilibrium.
“Mr. Caulfield.”
His eyes closed at the sound of Jess’s voice. As vivid images from the afternoon raced through his mind, he realized his mistake. She was there in his head; there was no escape. “Yes, Jessica?”
“Are you—Is everything all right?”
He looked out across the sea and nodded.
She drew abreast of him. Together, they stared at the moon’s elongated reflection on the water. “You were so quiet over supper.”
“I apologize,” he said automatically and absently.