He blinked. In an instant his expression changed utterly. The faint lines of kindness and anxiety around his eyes disappeared and his face tightened, nostrils flaring. The heat in his eyes was visible even in the semidarkness. “Oh, but you are.” His voice was husky, pure sex. “You’re a beautiful little cream puff, and I could eat you right up. All over.”
There was no mistaking his meaning. Unbidden, an image shot straight to the most primitive part of Caroline’s brain. She saw herself spread out on a bed, Jack’s dark head between her thighs, big hands holding her thighs apart. The image was unsettling. No, not unsettling—arousing. Unmistakably. Her vagina tightened around his penis at the thought. Immediately, he thickened and lengthened inside her.
Her startled eyes met his. “You like that thought,” he said, voice deep and low. Deep grooves bracketed his mouth. “It turns you on.”
“Yes, well…I–I must like it.” Her voice was breathless. She was completely distracted by what was going on in her body. Each pulse of his penis brought a little tug of her inner muscles tightening around him.
Amazing. That had never happened to her before—that intimate link so intense she could feel the changes in the man’s body inside hers.
Caroline was not only turned on by the thought of Jack Prescott going down on her, she was turned on by him. While her head had whirled with her neurotic, grief-stricken thoughts, and she’d been reticent and hesitant—her body had raced right on ahead without her and become aroused all on its own. There was no question of it. Now that she was really paying attention, and her head had caught up with her body, she realized she was more turned-on than she’d ever been in her entire life.
Jack Prescott might be grim-faced and not the world’s greatest conversationalist, but her body didn’t give a damn because he was perhaps the sexiest man alive. The most…male man she’d ever seen.
Everything about his body was a source of intense, bewildering pleasure. The sheer size of him, the hard muscles, the thick mat of dark, wiry chest hair brushing her nipples with each breath they took, the thick, iron-hard penis buried inside her…
God, just the feel of him…
“I’d love to go down on you, honey,” he said in that dark, smoky voice, “but I’d have to pull out first, and they’d have to hold a gun to my head to make me do that right now.” His big hands slid down her sides to hold her hips as he began moving inside her. Long, slow, deep glides that filled her with heat. “No way,” he whispered. “That’s for later, when I can think of something besides this.” He lunged into her, a heavy thrust that took him even more deeply inside her.
Caroline’s arms had to stretch to hold him. Her hands slid over the sleek hard muscles of his arms without finding a grip. Frustrated, she hooked her hands under his arms, palms flat against his massive deltoids, and held on. She could feel the intense play of muscles as he moved on her, in her.
His long, hard body was one huge erogenous zone, from the hair-roughened legs holding her own legs open to the big hands holding her head still for his kiss. Everything about him was so utterly different from her that every touch, every kiss was new territory.
The kiss deepened, turned biting and hard. She gasped for breath as her vagina fluttered again. He felt it. He felt everything that was happening to her. He knew what was happening to her body almost before she did.
Jack levered himself up on his arms, lifting his upper body away from her completely. His chest was so wide it seemed to fill her entire field of vision, the pectoral muscles sharply delineated. Caroline stared hungrily at the massive biceps, hard and perfect. Her hands itched to touch him—touch all that hard, sculpted muscle. She reached out tentatively to stroke his chest, and his entire long frame shuddered. His eyes burned into hers.
“Look at us, Caroline,” he commanded softly. “Watch what we are together.”
Startled, Caroline looked down at their bodies. The hair rose along the nape of her neck and along her forearms. She’d never seen anything as erotic as their bodies joined together by their sexes. Her hands were clutching his biceps, her skin very pale against his darker skin. She watched the hard muscles of his stomach clench with his long, slow thrusts. Their pubic hairs intermingled at the deepest point of his glide into her, when she felt every inch of him inside her, black hairs intermingling with her pale ones. When he pulled his penis out, it glistened from the semen he’d jetted into her and her own juices.
With each glide into her, Caroline’s arousal increased. She watched them making love, the room silent and hushed, his thrusts slow and regular. Any thought of cold was completely banished from her system. Heat rose from her groin as if she’d stepped in front of a furnace. The heat was intense, inside and out, prickles of heat and arousal running through her system. Her very veins felt incandescent.
Caroline was beginning that long, luscious slide into climax when a drop of sweat fell from his temple onto her chest.
It electrified her.
This slow, controlled lovemaking was exacting a price. His stomach muscles were so tight she could see each ridge of muscle. Caroline slid a hand from his biceps—held so tautly the sinews were visible—to his back and felt his control even there, in the hard, tightly clenched muscles. He looked as if he were a statue carved of dark marble rather than a man of flesh and bone.
The knowledge of how tightly he was hanging on to his self-control pushed her right over the edge. With a sharp cry, Caroline erupted into contractions, clenching tightly around him, shaking with the force of her climax.
“God,” he muttered, as a shudder went through him. He lowered himself to her with a groan, dropping his hands to her thighs. He lifted them high and pushed them wide apart, so she was completely open to him and began thrusting hard and fast. His movements kept her on that knife’s edge of climax way longer than was normal for her as pulses of red-hot pleasure coursed through her system. She was holding on to him as tightly as a person lost in a storm holds on to a tree trunk. Just as her climax was winding down, and she could breathe again, he turned his head on the pillow, moving his lips to her ear.
“More,” he whispered. “I want more, Caroline.” Goose bumps rose along her flesh as he inserted his hand into the small of her back and lifted her even more into his thrusts. He changed the angle of his movements, and somehow the base of his penis was rubbing directly against her clitoris. Electric shocks ran through her system as waves of intense pleasure almost too great to be borne coursed through her.
For the first time in her life, Caroline became a purely physical being, all her senses turned inward to the pleasurable tumult happening inside her body.
It seemed as if she came with her entire body, not just her sex. All her limbs shook as she held on to him, feeling with her thighs and arms the dense play of muscles as he moved inside her. Eyes closed, head tilted back, she rode out the waves of pleasure until there was no more left. There was nothing left in her, not even the strength to hold on to Jack.
Her arms and legs fell open, and her breathing slowed.
Jack stopped. “Caroline?”
Oh God, he was still iron-hard inside her, but there was no way she could participate. Every single muscle had gone limp. It was even hard to keep her eyes open.
Dimly, she realized he’d pulled out of her. He turned with her in his arms, and using his hard shoulder as a pillow, she dropped into a dreamless sleep.
Air France Flight 1240
Mid-Atlantic en route to Kennedy
Axel’s VISA was good for a first-class flight across the Atlantic with Air France. L’Espace Premiere. The name alone was classy.
Deaver relaxed in the comfortable extralarge seat that tipped back into a bed and sipped a flute of excellent chilled dry champagne. The real thing, not the warm carbonated piss served back in cattle class.