Jack had no experience holding back with women. He had no idea how to woo a lady. Actually, he had no experience bedding a lady, either. If this had been anyone but Caroline, he’d have been in her, fucking her, by now.
Jack ran his hand up the line of her back, sliding upward and around to cup her bra-clad breast. Caroline jolted.
His mouth was so close to hers he could feel her breath in little spurts, the uneven breathing of someone under stress. “Are you nervous?” he whispered.
She cleared her throat. “A little,” she confessed.
“Don’t be.” In a second, he had her bra undone, and his hand was cupping the soft roundness of her breast, his thumb rubbing the nipple gently. He could feel her heartbeat, fast and light. He had to ask. “Are you scared?”
“Of you?” Caroline pulled back a little to look him in the eyes. “No.”
His breath came out in a whoosh of relief. “That’s good. Because I won’t hurt you. I promise you that.”
“No.” Her eyes watched his, mouth uptilted in a faint smile. “I believe you.”
Jack ran his hands up her back and moved to her shoulders. Slowly, he pushed the open dress off her shoulders and watched it drop to the floor, together with her bra.
She was almost naked, with only black panties and black lace-topped thigh highs and black heels. It was like some fantasy vision. Jack thought he’d built up his memories of Caroline over the years into a woman too beautiful to be true. As it turned out, his memories didn’t do her justice.
Jesus, she was so beautiful it hurt the heart. Pale, perfect, so delicately built he was almost afraid to touch her. Something about his expression must have worried her because the anxious look was back in her eyes. Though she didn’t raise her hands to cover herself, her shoulders hunched, as if to somehow hide her breasts. He needed to say something to reassure her.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he whispered, then winced. “Ouch. That wasn’t quite how I wanted to say it, sorry.”
Somehow it worked. He had made Caroline smile. “Thanks. It’s not the most elegant of phrasing but…thanks.”
What point was she at? He needed to know.
Jack knelt before her, placed one delicate foot on his thigh and slowly rolled the stocking down her leg. God, this was a fantasy scene, too, calculated to drive any male out of his mind with lust.
Her legs were long, slender without being skinny, with the smallest most delicate ankles he’d ever seen. In a moment, he’d removed shoes and stockings.
Jesus, even her feet were gorgeous. Small, pale with an elegant arch.
Jack had never been adventurous in bed. Once he got the woman in bed, his usual style was to climb on top and put it in. Once he was in, he could stay for hours, but he wasn’t much for the fancy stuff. He rarely went down, rarely was on the bottom. Meat and potatoes sex, that was his style.
But right now, running his hands along the long, elegant, soft length of Caroline’s legs, he had a sudden urge to kiss her toes, one by one. Suck them. Run his mouth along the delicate arch of her foot. Lightly bite his way up to her narrow ankle.
His breathing was ragged as he contemplated her pretty feet. No, he finally decided. No way could he start at her toes. He’d come before he reached the knees.
He ran his hand up her leg, leaning forward, mouth level with her belly button. He nuzzled her flat little belly while cupping her slender calves, running a finger behind her knees, around to the inner thigh and up until he was cupping her mound, moving his hand gently back and forth in a silent signal to widen her stance.
“Open for me,” he breathed against her belly. Unsteadily, Caroline took her foot off his thigh and stood with her legs slightly apart. He kept an arm braced around her back so she wouldn’t fall.
Rose-scented musk rose from her, Caroline’s perfume mixed with arousal. He could clearly smell it, coming from the thatch of soft, light-colored hair between her thighs. Never had a smell been so welcome. Gently, Jack pressed a finger into her and nearly wept with relief and fear.
She was wet, all right. His finger was coated with moisture as he penetrated her carefully. But not wet enough to take him, not yet. And she was god-awful tight. Her little cunt closed around his finger like a wet, soft vise. He probed gently with his finger, withdrawing so he could spread some of the moisture around her opening. Jack was operating by touch alone, carefully watching her face. When his finger brushed against her clitoris, she gave a sudden exhalation of breath, her mouth rounding in an O.
“Do you like that?” he murmured, stroking her carefully, hoping the calluses on his skin weren’t hurting her. Everything about her little cunt seemed so delicate to him, the tissues incredibly soft. He ran his finger over the clitoris again, and her legs trembled. If he hadn’t had his hands on her, he wouldn’t have felt it.
“Yes,” she whispered in the darkness. “I like that.”
Jack rose slowly from his crouch, wincing against the pain in his crotch as his dick rubbed against the tight, stiff denim, and kissed his way up the center of her chest, up her neck, along her jawline. Soft, reassuring little kisses. Pecks, really.
With his finger still inside her, he could literally feel what turned her on, and it was just his sheer rotten luck that gentleness did it. With each soft kiss, she turned a little wetter, and his finger could slide into her with greater ease. When he nuzzled the skin under her ear, she sighed and moved against his hand, her opening softer now, and warmer.
Jack moved his other hand from her waist to cup her neck, his fingers moving in the rose-scented silken strands of her hair. Locks fell over his wrist in a soft cascade. He kissed her softly, gently, and she sighed into his mouth, moving under his hands, coming closer to him, her mouth shifting under his. She showed no signs of actually wanting to get on the bed and get it on. She was enjoying the kissing, the gentle touches, the stroking.
Was this what gentlemen did? Kiss forever? Didn’t they ever get to fuck? Jack felt like steam was coming out of his groin, and his dick hurt. It hurt to breathe, too. He felt tight bands around his chest, squeezing the air from his lungs.
The only good thing was that the kisses were working. Jack stroked her tongue with his, and she actually clenched around his finger in a little ripple.
Yes!
Would it work with her breasts? Jesus, why didn’t he have three hands? One to keep touching the soft, wet folds of her sex, one to cup her neck, leaving one free to touch those delicate, firm breasts. He only had two hands, though, so he was going to have to take one away. Removing his hand from between her thighs was unthinkable, it would have to be the hand cupping her head.
Only he loved the feel of her hair spilling over his hand, fingers gently holding her still for his kiss. He pressed her harder against him, as if to say—stay.
She did, and didn’t pull away even when he probed more deeply in her mouth with his tongue.
Jack cupped her breast, loving the silky firmness. She was small, and fit perfectly in the palm of his cupped hand. At that precise moment, Jack Prescott stopped being a man who was turned on by big breasts and switched forever to small, dainty, perfectly shaped breasts topped by delicate pink nipples.
Were they hard yet? Only one way to find out. He gently circled the nipple with his thumb, the velvety texture a soft delight against his rough skin. When he touched her nipple, she clenched tightly against the finger deeply embedded inside her and moaned gently in his mouth. A drop of moisture collected in his palm.
Shaking, he pulled his hand out of her and lifted his head. It took Caroline a second for her eyes to open, and she looked, dazed, into his own.
“Undress me,” he whispered.
“Okay,” she whispered back. He had no idea why they were whispering. Maybe it was the semidark room or the idea of being secluded in the middle of a snowstorm, or just the intensity of feeling that seemed to fill the room.