He took her hands in his so her palms made little cups, then he pressed them against his cock.
He spilled out of one hand so she needed two to hold him.
He purred as she stroked him.
She couldn’t meet his gaze, heat blasting out of her cheeks, but she also couldn’t let go of him.
“It’s… You’re beautiful,” she whispered. “I always thought so.”
His breath caught. “Jenny…”
The mounds below his cock felt cannon ball sized in her palms.
He was breathing unsteadily now. “You keep pettin’ me and I’m going to come.” His steady gaze asked her, was she ready for that?
She hesitated, feeling abruptly stupid. Should she keep caressing him? Is that how it was done? She didn’t know.
“Jenny, you kill me,” he groaned. Gently he took her hands, making the decision for her, guiding them back to his stomach.
This she wanted, this she felt comfortable doing, tracing every part of his body with her hands. His shoulders, his hair, which he seemed to prefer shaggy to regulation short. “I always picture you when you come back from one of your ocean swims as a merman with long, enticing hair.”
He blinked at her in exaggeration, as if he had the long eyelashes of a siren. “And would you be enticed?”
“I already am. God!” Her hands weren’t enough. Untutored but now not caring so much, she brushed her cheek against one of his pecs, felt the wire tension of muscle under silken skin. Heard him gasp. Oh, that was
nice.
She had the same power to move him as he did her?
She rubbed her face, her lips against his belly. He sucked in a breath, his hands tangling in her hair as if to restrain her, as if to encourage her? She didn’t care. Now she was learning him.
She nudged him to lift his arm then put her lips against the curls she found there.
“Oh, God. Oh,
fuck
.”
He seemed to like what she was doing so much that she licked him, tasting salt and Taz, that mix of sand and fresh lime and sea air.
He balled his fists on the edges of the recliner, as if holding himself back so he wouldn’t do anything to scare her. She felt his want like heatwaves shimmering between them. With every touch, she lit a match. He wasn’t quiet, he was restless, a pacing beast who had locked himself in chains for her. He gasped and growled and hummed if he liked something, like when she ran a finger on his thigh, close to his sex. He raised himself up, muscled arms straining, beautiful body arched like a bow, a line of sweat rolling down the center of his chest so she just had to catch it, suck on it and his skin.
Something shattered.
Fragments of silvered wood scattered around them. He’d broken the armrests of the recliner with his bare hands and now he buried those hands in her hair.
“Touch me, oh, Christ—”
He guided her so that his cock brushed her cheek.
His breath hissed as if she’d hurt him. His huge body trembled, on the verge of the cataclysm he’d warned her about.
It felt hot against her lips, hot satin, moist at the tip. She didn’t know what else to do so she just rubbed her face softly against him while he cursed and arched against her. A second later hot liquid spurted, hitting the side of her face and neck.
He was panting, still trembling like he’d run a race. His arms fell away and he stared at her, dazed.
A second later clarity snapped into his eyes and he sat up abruptly, all soft enjoyment gone. “Are you all right? Oh, shit! What did I do? Did I scare you? Jenny, did I scare you?”
She grabbed his face in her hands, holding on. “No, I’m fine. Taz, really—”
He didn’t look as though he believed her. Then he winced. “You’re all covered with—”
“Taz!”
But he didn’t listen to her. He raced to his big beach towel, wetted it in the pool of water then scrubbed her. She tried to bat his hand away. “Hey, I didn’t mind.”
He swiped at her again and she grabbed the cloth. “Taz, it didn’t turn me off. It was…natural.”
He dropped his gaze. “I just never wanted to be that way with you,” he said.
She frowned. “What way?”
He swallowed and then looked at her. “I liked seeing my spend on you. Did you know that?”
His words made her blood sizzle. She was still aching, hurting, restless, keyed up. “Why didn’t you want me to know that?”
He shut his eyes for a moment. “Because it opens a door.” Then before she could ask what he meant, his mouth claimed hers and his hand, both sensitive and callused—much like he was—was on her leg. She hissed a breath, craving,
craving
his touch.
She felt like her skin lit one cell at a time as his fingers brushed her bikini bottoms. She was blooming like one of her roses, about to shatter in the heat. He cupped her and she jerked, lightning shooting through her at the confident way he held her.
His hands seemed to tell her,
You are a woman and I know you. I know your depths and your pleasures.
Her body did a little dance, back and forth onto his hand, rubbing, grazing, unable to keep still as the music riding her crashed. A beat in the blood. An oath taken.
When he pushed aside her clothing and met her flesh to flesh for the first time, her eyes snapped open and she looked at him, into his brilliant green eyes, swallowed by the dark pupils reflecting her like shadowed mirrors.
He liked to watch.
As she jerked and gasped, he licked his lips, as if hungry to taste her. A thick finger played at her opening, finding her wet, swirling and swirling as if caught in a nautilus shell. And just when she thought she’d scream and claw for what she anticipated, Taz impaled her on one gentle finger.
“Oh.
Oh!
” She didn’t have time for fear, was too far gone for any dark slivers to pierce through this sweet moment. This wasn’t what had happened to her in the past. This was sun setting in glory and the chill of the approaching night and the smell of sweat and want and his hand exactly where she needed it. Oh, God.
Soon it was two fingers. She held onto his shoulders fiercely and he looked back at her with equal fierceness as if he wanted her to mark this moment, as if he wanted to change her into something she had never thought she’d be.
His.
Chapter Eight
“That’s it, baby. It aches, doesn’t it?”
She whimpered in agreement. She hovered, on edge, wanting to gallop free but something pinned her in this moment.
Taz.
Even as he gave to her, he withheld, drew things out so that her body was nothing but sparking circuits, tangled and messed by his hands alone.
“Do you want the most mind-blowing pleasure ever?” he murmured directly into her ear.
“Ah… Yeah,” she agreed, drowsy, wilting, dying, living at every stroke.
“Hang on. Don’t worry, I won’t let you hurt.”
Hurt. She frowned, not understanding, until those magical fingers were gone and she became aware of how her bikini bottoms were also gone. She was sitting bare-bottomed on Taz’s chaise, her body throbbing urgently. A flush stung her face and neck.
She couldn’t help looking around, hoping none of her neighbors could see her, like elderly Mrs Kent. Nope, there was a big hedge blocking her view. Jenny realized that the only house that overlooked this hot tub was…her own.
So why had Taz never put up a fence for his privacy? He used to be so prickly. Leaving this private space open to her eyes was almost like he’d wanted her to see him, watch him, even when he was at his most unfriendly.
And it went two ways, Jenny realized. If she could watch him, then he could watch her…
Had he done that?
Taz’s kitchen door slammed and he was back, some kind of metal tube thing in one hand with buckles at either end. Dazedly, she stared at it.
“May I put this on your thighs?” he asked her, suddenly very formal.
“Put…” She frowned. “What is it?”
“It’s a spreader bar. It keeps your legs open if you try to close them.”
“But—”
“For what I want to give you, I want you open. I want you to have no choice but to take it.” He dipped closer to her ear again. “To enjoy it.”
She looked at him and not at the toy. “All right.”
He was swift, efficient, buckling the device around her thighs. “Taz, what—?”
“I’m gonna make you scream.” He lifted her into his arms.
The water was hot, frothing. She gasped at her abrupt introduction to it.
Taz was behind her, his big body encompassing hers. The bar felt odd. It wasn’t wide so her legs were in some kind of gymnastic split, but she was wildly aware that her legs were open and she couldn’t close them. For some reason that added a lick of dark heat to her needy body.
His hand cupped her neck. “Don’t think. Just feel.”
He gave her a long, wet kiss, his fingers returning to play with her so that she fell back against him shamelessly. When she tensed and tried to move her position to enhance her sensations, the bar impeded her movements, gently correcting her.
Without that freedom of movement, her attention focused on his touch so that every brush of a finger became almost excruciating. He was slow and thorough. The warm, lapping water and dim lights surrounded them, making it a softer, erotic world of the forbidden. Never had a man’s hands been inside her that she could remember. And the bar… The bar was definitely a naughty prop. Her imagination went wild, wondering what he’d used it for before. Had he used it during sex?
A wallop of heat moved through her.
“You like it?” His tone was smug, as if he knew.
“It’s strange, but yes.”
Taz lifted her so her knees rested alongside his on the long bench, both of them facing toward her rampant flower beds. She felt him, heavy and solid and masculine, grounding her deliciously. Her pulse was thumping. She tried to close her legs and whimpered. Before she could ask him what he had planned, he reached between her legs and held her sex fully open. She gasped at the exposure, digging her fingernails into his arms.
“Taz!”
“Hang on, just—”
A bolt of churning hot water hit her, straight to her pussy.
She screamed, back arching, throat burning and, given no choice, she came.
Jenny was still panting after her third climax, limp and luscious, opening drowsy mossy eyes to look at him. He saw reflected there trust, and warmth in her cheeks and absolutely no fear.
Satisfaction seized him.
He’d pleased her. He’d made her scream and claw and beg for him to stop, but she hadn’t really wanted that, oh no. She’d wanted the ruthless way he had made her come, again and again. By her third climax, her contractions had gone on and on and each indrawn breath, each bead of sweat on her face had spoken for her.
“Are we…done?” She blinked at him like a sleepy doe.
“No,” he said. He lifted her gently from the water and laid her on a blanket. She sprawled there, looking like a windblown wild rose he’d find by the ocean.
“Um, huh.” She closed her eyes but then they flared wide as he probed her too sensitive pussy with slick, cool fingers. “What are you…?”
Her swollen sex was a deep pink color and the gel made her shine. He wanted to kiss her there with the bar to keep her from closing her legs shyly.
He swallowed. “It’s lubricant. You need it to have sex after being in the water.”
“Sex,” she repeated.
“Sex. Like this.” He couldn’t resist any longer. He mouthed her sex and she jerked. Tried reflexively to close her legs. He gave her a deep kiss and her eyes flared wide.
“I can’t—”
“Oh, but you
can.
” He drank of her, the taste of chlorine from the hot tub, the cherry-flavored lubricant and the faint musky scent of her growing arousal. He kneaded her buttocks, felt her clench at each lash of his tongue. He used his fingers to anoint her with more of the cream, even as he sipped and savored as she shuddered, racked by his attention. “You can,” he breathed against her and she jerked as she came again, brought to it so easily this time since he had kept her simmering.
He set out to make her think it was the best idea ever, allowing him to have her, plying her with his fingers, stroking until she stretched for more of his touch. When he thought she was safely moist, he reached for one of the condoms he’d also brought from inside the house.
She watched him put it on, her eyes wide. He was deliberately unsubtle. If Jenny was frightened, he needed to know.
Did she know that he was afraid, under his confidence? That he’d never made love to a virgin, never mind a woman who had been hurt the way Jenny had? And somehow he had to make this so hot, so wonderful for her.
But as he watched her, he saw that she accepted what he was doing the same way she’d accepted the spreader bar, without judgment or expectation. He’d given her intense release as a reward for trusting him, for letting him have a small amount of control of her lovely virginal body.
And now she wanted more.
Christ, could she accept his darker impulses to dominate her innocence?
He lifted her back into the water and then came up behind her. She’d made him come earlier, so easily, so impulsively. Usually he made it through an entire night without coming with his many lovers, but with her he ached for the completion he knew he’d find only inside her.
Jenny.
“I used to think about being here with you,” he told Jenny. “Like this.”
She lay slumped against the wall of the tub where the jet would catch her sex when he turned it on again. She stiffened when he brought her hips against his, when his cock brushed her opening. “I’ll be gentle,” he groaned. “And if you don’t want it, God, Jenny, tell me because doing anything you don’t want will rip me up inside.”
Something in his voice seemed to awaken her. She held his eyes and when his hand covered hers, they meshed fingers.
He slowly began to work his heavy size into her small opening, watching her expressions, mesmerized by another person’s feelings during sex the way he’d never felt. With his usual lovers, it had been academic, a bit like watching to make sure bath water wasn’t so hot it was scalding.
With Jenny he felt a searing need to heal her with his body. It was crazy—how could he do that? No one could do that. But he was no good with words. He cut with words, he was sarcastic and guarded with words. He didn’t know how to give to her with words what she needed.