Dangerous Lover

Five

Sierra Leone

The human eye sees what it expects to see. Deaver knew that. Like all soldiers he used that fact often. Half of military tactics is deception and evasion.

So when a five-ten, 180-pound blond man wearing dark sunglasses strode confidently through the UN camp, dressed in well-pressed fatigues with the UN badge on his shirtfront and wearing the distinctive bright blue helmet of the UN peacekeeping force, nobody gave him a second glance. He was just another of the five hundred UN soldiers in the encampment.

It was evening. Half the troops were on routine patrols—unarmed, the idiots.

Deaver still found it hard to believe that soldiers would allow themselves to go unarmed. Orders from on high. Military observers and peacekeepers had to show their neutrality at all costs. Axel had thought it stupid, too. Deaver had a sudden pang of sympathy for the guy.

He felt like an incredible asshole walking around unarmed in West Africa, a place where it was as if some giant hole had opened up and sucked in everyone who was human, leaving only deranged monsters. He’d only been unarmed for a couple of days, but it felt like forever.

Deaver could only imagine what a whole tour of duty here unarmed would feel like, where if you fell into the wrong hands, you could have your hands and feet chopped off by teenagers, be staked out in the broiling equatorial sun with your bowels slashed open for the insects to eat or be skinned alive, without any weapons whatsoever to defend yourself with.

Well, the hell with that, he was getting the fuck out. Right now. Just as Axel would have.

The evening air was suddenly filled with the familiar whump whump whump of a helicopter. Deaver walked fast in the direction of the sound. He wanted to break into a run, but he didn’t dare.

In the twilight, he could make out the familiar outline of a Huey, landing in an improvised helipad carved out of the surrounding forest. The pilot landed gently, smack in the center of the circle, and stayed in the cockpit, his hands on the controls. He clearly wanted to be out of there as soon as possible. He was landing at last light to increase his chances of survival. The route from Freetown took them over rebel-held territory. RPGs needed daylight to take planes and helicopters down.

Men dressed in jeans and sweatshirts with the sleeves cut off jumped down nimbly and started unloading boxes. They worked silently and efficiently. Within ten minutes, there was a neat stack of boxes lined up on the ground.

Deaver walked straight up to one of the men. He shouted over the noise of the rotors and the engine. “May I ask where you’re going next?” He was a good mimic, and he’d talked enough with Axel to be able to imitate his slight Finnish accent perfectly.

One of the men stopped for a second to look at him curiously. “Back to Lungi,” he shouted back, then took another box from the man behind him, passing it on to the man in front of him.

Perfect. Lungi International Airport, his way out. If they left immediately, he could make the 9:00 P.M. flight to Paris, then on to the States. He’d be back in the U.S. before anyone even thought to question whether Axel had made it back home.

“I’m on leave,” he shouted over the thumping whine of the main rotors. “My flight departs early tomorrow morning from Lungi. I was supposed to hitch a ride with the convoy, but I missed it. My commanding officer made me go over some paperwork, the bastard.” Deacon rolled his eyes. The man looked like an NCO. NCOs throughout the world are familiar with dipshit officers. “Can you give me a lift to the airport? Otherwise, I will lose my flight.”

The man stopped and looked back. “We’re off-loading four hundred pounds of supplies, so we’ve got plenty of room. I don’t see why not. Wait here.” He leaped into the cockpit, and Deaver saw him confer with the pilot. The pilot turned his head sharply and stared at Deaver, looking vaguely insectoid with his deep black pilot’s sunglasses. It was impossible to tell his expression. Finally, after a long scrutiny he said something, and the man he’d been talking to jumped back down. He jerked a thumb toward the pilot and put his mouth close to Deaver’s ear.

“Pilot said sure,” he shouted. “We’ll be back at Lungi in an hour. Hop on in.”

Fucking A!

Deaver quickly climbed into the cabin and settled himself in for the first leg of his journey back to his diamonds and his new life.

Summerville

I don’t want to be alone tonight.

The words lingered in the quiet of the room. A log broke apart, the pieces falling to the hearth with a hiss and a flurry of sparks.

Jack reached out, hesitated a moment, then used his thumb to gently wipe the tear away from Caroline’s cheek. She didn’t move, she didn’t even blink, watching him to see how he’d react to her words. Her skin felt like satin, so tempting he lifted his hand away.

It trembled. His hand fucking trembled.

Jack had been team sniper for three years. Snipers are made—forged in the fire of ceaseless, pitiless training. But snipers are also born—with a rare combination of natural-born eye-and-hand coordination and the kind of nature that can wait, endlessly, for the right moment to explode into action.

Jack never lost his cool, ever. He’d hunkered behind a rock in the prone position, finger on the trigger, eye on and off the scope in half-hour intervals, for three days and three nights for the chance of catching Mohammed Khan, drinking only a liter of water and never crapping. His hand had never once wavered, and when he’d finally made the shot, it was a perfect kill. Khan had dropped like a stone with a.50 caliber bullet through the bridge of the nose, one of the few shots guaranteed to kill instantly. One shot one kill. The sniper’s mantra.

He was in control of himself, always. His life had depended more times than he could count on that control.

The fact that his hands trembled scared the shit out of him. He couldn’t lose control, not tonight. He daren’t. If he lost control, who knew what he would do to Caroline? Fuck her too hard? Ending up hurting her? Jesus, maybe biting her?

He shuddered at the thought.

Right now, right now, he was shaking with lust, clenching his hands into fists because he was afraid he’d grab her and throw her to the floor. Every cell in his body was slick with lust, aching to have her. It wasn’t just a six-month dry spell. It was as if he’d never had sex before. It felt like a lifetime of dammed-up desire was raging through his system, burning up his veins.

Touch was too difficult just right now. Use words, he told himself.

I don’t want to be alone tonight.

“I won’t let you be alone tonight, Caroline. Come with me.” Cupping a hand under her elbow, safely covered by black silk, Jack lifted her from the piano stool. She rose, huge gray-silver eyes fixed on his.

Do not fuck this up, he repeated to himself. His new mantra.

He had to get a grip. When he’d come down the stairs a few hours ago, it was as if someone had reached deep inside his head and pulled out the most compelling image he could imagine, one he didn’t even know he’d had in his head, something guaranteed to touch all his buttons and get his blood up.

The Lake dining room in candlelight, and Caroline standing there, lighting the last of the candles, the warm glow turning her skin the palest of ivories. She was beautiful beyond his wildest dreams, shiny golden red hair up so he could admire the long curve of her white neck, dressed in some elegant black dress that seemed designed specifically to show off her small waist and pale shoulders. Jack had never dared even dream that one day he’d be in Greenbriars with Caroline waiting for him with a smile—yet here he was, and there she was.

And when she’d invited him into the living room—Jesus. It was like some magnificent wheel of fortune turning full circle. Life had been incredibly brutal to him his first eighteen years of life. The lowest point of his life had been when he’d stood on the other side of that window, the one right there behind Caroline. The one he was close enough to touch.

He’d been a starving, homeless half boy, half beast in rags, staring hungrily at a life he couldn’t even begin to fathom. He could barely imagine being on the same planet as the otherworldly creatures he had watched through the glass while shivering in the snow. Such beautiful people in such a beautiful room.

And then the wheel of fortune had turned. He’d been found by the Colonel, adopted and given everything his hungry soul ached for—love, discipline, purpose. He, the penniless boy had even, in the end, turned into a wealthy man.

And now that wheel of fortune had turned again, richly, plunging him straight into the land of his dreams.

He was on the other side of that window, now. Not the beggar boy with his nose pressed against the glass, but the man inside the room with Caroline.

Carefully, touching her only by her material-clad elbow, he nudged her closer to him. He himself didn’t dare move. He felt like a big bar of C4 with the detonator cap in place. One wrong move, and he’d ignite and explode.

No, she had to come to him. And she was, too. Carefully watching him out of huge, troubled eyes, she obeyed his touch and stepped forward until her feet stood between his, and the tips of her breasts touched his chest.

Jack had no idea what she was thinking. She didn’t look consumed with desire for him. If anything she looked sad and lost. Something would have to be done to change that because that wasn’t what he wanted from her in bed.

Slowly, carefully, he bent down to her and brushed her lips with his. Her mouth was cold—she was like a beautiful marble statue. He lifted his head, let his eyes roam over that lovely face, then fit his mouth over hers again, a little more firmly. She watched him, gaze troubled, until the very last second, then her eyes finally fluttered closed.

Beneath the light eye shadow, he could see the thin tracery of delicate blue veins under the pale skin. He touched his lips to her eyelids, then moved over to kiss the soft skin of her temple, feeling the silky strands of hair tickling his cheek.

Her skin was a little warmer now. That marble statue was slowly turning into a human woman. He touched his lips to hers once more, a little more firmly, opening her mouth with his just enough to get one quick, heady taste of her with his tongue.

She tasted like heaven—chocolate and coffee and the wine they’d had for dinner. He could easily get drunk on her taste. He dipped his tongue in her mouth again briefly, then withdrew and lifted his head.

“Oh!” Caroline breathed, looking slightly surprised, as if a kiss were an unexpected thing. The tip of her tongue appeared and touched her lower lip, as if to taste him.

His cock throbbed at the sight, lifting and lengthening at each pass of her small tongue over that softly pink, luscious mouth. His hard-on had no place to go, trying uselessly to rise beneath the heavy denim. It fucking hurt. Jack wondered if he was doing himself some lasting damage. Could cocks break?

Every cell in his body was screaming at him to get inside her as fast as possible, but he couldn’t. Not yet. There was too great a difference in their levels of desire. He was over the top, more excited than he’d ever been in his life, and Caroline—Caroline was clearly still unsure, though she was the one who’d spoken the words that had put things in motion.

Jack had to remember that what she’d actually said was I don’t want to be alone tonight.

What she hadn’t said was—I want you to tear all my clothes off me, pin me to the ground, open my legs, and fuck me half to death.

No, that wasn’t at all what she’d said, and it was a real pity because that’s what he felt like doing.

He had one shot at this—one. If he fucked up tonight, he’d never get another chance. If he got too rough, if he scared her, hurt her in any way, she’d toss him out on his ass. The one thing that shone through in Caroline was a weary, wary pride. She hadn’t let any of the circumstances of her life beat her down. She wasn’t going to put up with someone who scared her, or treated her roughly, not even if she desperately needed the money from a boarder.

Watching her eyes carefully, he bent his head again. This time the kiss was warmer, and her pretty mouth was already open for him. At the touch of her tongue to his, he jerked away as his cock surged. God, he’d nearly come in his pants.

He had to cool himself down a little; otherwise, this wasn’t going to work.

He ran the back of his forefinger down her cheek, marveling at the satiny smoothness.

A deep breath, then he said what had to be said. “Caroline—I don’t want to sound unromantic, but I don’t have protection for us. I haven’t had sex for over half a year and I don’t have anything with me. Please tell me you’ve got something here.”

Shit, it hadn’t even occurred to him on the flights over. Normally, Jack always had rubbers with him. Most of his sex life was one-night stands—or maybe two- or even three-night stands when he liked the woman enough—so he was always prepared. But he’d come home straight from that hellhole, Afghanistan, the world’s largest no-sex zone. Even if he managed to get turned on by women covered with rugs, the certain knowledge that any sex partner of his would likely be stoned to death in retaliation was a real turnoff. Sex never even crossed his mind in Afghanistan.

He’d come home to the dying Colonel, who’d sent him on his last mission, to Africa. Jack never fucked in Africa. Never.

So here he was, with literally the woman of his dreams asking him for sex—or at least that’s what he hoped she’d asked for—and he was without rubbers, for the first time in his adult life.

Fuck. If he’d known this could happen, he’d have come equipped with ten boxes.

Caroline blinked, as if coming out of a trance. “Protection? What do you—oh!” Her hand covered her mouth. “How stupid of me. Of course—condoms! Oh my gosh, no, I don’t have any condoms in the house. It’s been way longer than six months for me. More like six years. In fact, it’s been so long I’ve probably forgotten how. In fact,” she continued stepping slightly back, watching his eyes, “if you decide to change your mind, I totally understand.”

“No!” It came out almost a shout and she winced. Jack felt sweat trickle down his back. “No,” he said again, more softly, working to make his tone normal through the sudden tightness in his chest. “Look, we can do without a rub—a condom. I can be careful.” I hope, he thought.

He’d always had complete control over his cock, though right now he was holding on to that control by his fingernails.

Caroline was silent, looking him up and down. She was struggling with something, and he gave her the time to do it. “You look healthy,” she said finally.

He blinked. “Absolutely.”

Healthy? Well, yeah. He couldn’t be more healthy. Right now, in fact, his rude good health was practically bursting through his pants. “Outside of injuries, I’ve never been sick a day in my life.”

She had turned a light shade of pink. “Because, um…well, the story’s this. I was under a lot of stress this fall. My brother was very ill, and I was so worried I sometimes forgot to eat and—” She stopped suddenly, her pretty mouth closing with a snap, as if realizing she was babbling. “Well, the upshot is that my doctor put me on the pill,” she said finally. “So we could—”

Whatever else she was going to say was lost in his mouth. Jack plunged both hands into her hair, to cradle her skull and hold her still for his kiss. Deeper, hotter than before. He licked his tongue inside her, dying for her taste, holding her head tightly as he angled his head for a deeper taste of her.

Her hands came up to curl around his wrists as he continued kissing her, almost desperately. He dropped a hand down to her narrow waist and pulled her tightly against him, widening his stance to bring her closer. She jerked a little as she came flat up against his rigid cock. Jack broke the kiss though he didn’t want to. He wanted to stay here forever, his tongue in her mouth.

If it were up to him, they’d drop where they were, right onto the hardwood floor. He wouldn’t even strip her. Just rip a hole in her stockings and panties and shove his cock right into a cunt that would be as warm and wet as her mouth…

Jack groaned. He opened his eyes to look down at her lovely face. Her mouth was wet and slightly swollen from his, a light flush along her cheekbones. His hands had torn her hairdo apart, and her hair lay in gleaming ringlets along her shoulders. Her hair was the color of the red-gold flames in the hearth. He was vaguely surprised that her hair felt cool to the touch, the color was so like bright golden flames. The skull beneath the hair was warm, though. The rest of her was warm, too, now—finally. His arms were full of warm, willing woman.

His arms were full of Caroline.

He had to fight to keep his breathing under control.

They were going to fuck. It was official. He was going to fuck Caroline. Bareback, no less. He’d never had sex without a rubber in his life. The way he felt right now, he was probably going to die of sensory overload the instant he entered her.

“I think we’d better take this into the bedroom.” His voice sounded hoarse, as if he hadn’t spoken in days.

Her eyes searched his. “Okay,” she whispered. “The bedroom.”

Oh, yeah.

The quickest way to get her to bed was to carry her. He swung her easily up in his arms and tried not to run for the stairs.

He had the instincts of a cat. He’d done a lot of mountaineering with the Colonel and in the Rangers, and he had superb balance. But when he held her in his arms, he felt his knees nearly buckle. It was insane. She couldn’t weigh more than 115 pounds. Going into battle he’d carried more weight than that in gear. Hell, he’d jumped out of planes carrying more weight than that. But it was as if a fever affected his system, making him weak and shaky.

He needed to get them to bed, fast, before he toppled to the floor with her and made a fool of himself.

Jack took the stairs two at a time and turned right at the landing. Lucky thing her bedroom door was open because he would have kicked it down if it wasn’t.

Putting a boot through her door was probably not a good way to start this.

Jack stopped by the bed and let her slide slowly down his body. She had to feel his hard-on, quivering with eagerness, leaping at the contact with her body. Probably people across town could feel his hard-on. He was probably interrupting radio reception with the waves of lust emanating from his cock.

What was she feeling? He couldn’t tell. Caroline stood quietly, passively, like a beautiful little doll, not moving from where he put her down.

For the very first time in his life, Jack wished women could be more like men. He wished Caroline had the female equivalent of a cock that would show him what she was feeling, show him how much she desired him. If she desired him.

He wanted something big and obvious like a stiff dick, to signal clearly what was going on inside her—like maybe a red light on her forehead that blinked on and off.

But women weren’t like that. Their bodies were secretive, the arousal tucked away inside where you couldn’t see, hidden away in the recesses of their bodies.

The only way he could know what point she was at would be to touch her cunt, run his fingers around her opening, probe her.

Jesus, what if she wasn’t turned on? What if she wasn’t very wet? What would he do then? He already knew she’d be tight. A woman who hadn’t had sex for six years would be small.

It might be a problem. God, he hoped not.

He had a big cock. It wasn’t anything he was particularly proud of, it just was. Since he wasn’t the kind of man to compare dicks in locker rooms, he didn’t get any bragging rights about it. He just took it as a physical fact that pertained to him, like being tall. But his size and the fact that he was as turned on as he’d ever been in his life meant he’d have to be careful with her, though his self-control was shredding, turning more insubstantial by the minute.

Like right now, looking at her in the dim light of the bedroom. He’d left the lights in the corridor on, but hadn’t turned on any lights in the bedroom, so it was as if they were underwater in a faraway ocean.

The first thing anyone noticed about Caroline was her coloring, which was exquisite—from the ivory rose of her skin to the golden fire of her hair and the silver-blue of her eyes. Now she was leached of all color, a vision in shades of gray in the soft, dim light. It didn’t detract from her beauty. If anything, it highlighted her pale, smooth skin and delicate bone structure. Her eyes were pale, almost colorless, as she watched him.

What was she thinking? He couldn’t tell. Her features were still, like a portrait of a beautiful woman instead of the living woman herself.

He was holding her by the shoulders, feeling the delicate bone structure beneath the soft silk of her dress. He moved his hand to the back of her dress, tugging on the tab of the zipper, pulling it down. It sounded loud in the silence of the room. He unzipped slowly, trying to gauge from her expression what she was feeling. The zipper ran to below the waist. Caroline stood as still as a doll while he opened the back of her dress.

With a slight movement of his hand, Jack had his palm inside the parted material, resting against the small of her back, where the skin was smooth and warm. Exerting a little pressure with his hand, he urged her forward.

Watching him, she obeyed the silent touch and stepped forward. She had to tilt her head back and as he looked down, he marveled at what life had brought him. Her eyes weren’t blue but silver in this light, wide moons he could drown in. Her mouth was slightly open, and her breathing was fast. He could feel the little puffs of air of her breath against his throat. She moved an inch closer to him, without his having to press against her back.

Yes!

He bent his head to her, stopping when she put a small hand to his chest.

“What?” he whispered, nearly in a panic. She wasn’t stopping him, was she? If this was a no, he was going to howl at the moon. He was swollen with longing for her. Not being inside her as quickly as possible was unthinkable. If he couldn’t slake his lust for her right now, it would probably cause him a permanent injury, leaving him hobbled for life.

“How did you know which room was my bedroom?” she asked softly.

Oh fuck.

This was precisely the kind of mistake that could get you killed in the field. Jack had been undercover in dangerous places and with dangerous people. Keeping your cover story straight was a life or death necessity. Fuck it up and you die.

He controlled his breathing and gently removed her hand from his chest. His heart had given a huge leap at her words. He hoped she hadn’t felt it. He was thinking frantically, trying to will some blood back up into his head so he could reason it out. He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed the back of it. Each time he touched her skin, it was a little shock to feel how incredibly soft it was.

She was looking up at him, unsmiling, waiting.

Jack pasted a sheepish smile on his face. “By smell.”

Caroline blinked. “By…I beg your pardon?”

“I have a very keen sense of smell.” It was true. He could smell explosives almost as well as the Labradors the service used. He ran his thumb over her cheekbone, down over the long line of her neck. He bent his head and kissed her under her ear, sniffing loudly, like a dog. “You smell wonderful,” he whispered. “Like roses and heaven. I just followed my nose. The whole house smells a little like you, though there are food smells in the kitchen and dining room and the living room smells of lemon polish and woodsmoke.

“But this room—it smells like you and only you. I stopped where the smell was strongest.”

He’d pleased her. She smiled uncertainly. “That’s nice. I wonder whether maybe soldiers should use smell to orient themselves instead of compasses.”

He ran the back of his forefinger down her cheek, along the delicate jawbone, then fingered the neckline of her dress. “We do. Soldiers use their sense of smell a lot. I wouldn’t let my men smoke for two days before going on a mission, for example.” He bent and nuzzled his nose against the soft skin under her ear. “Though I must admit, I’ve never smelled anything half as nice in the Army as you.”

He could feel her lips turn up in a real smile against his cheek.

She was more relaxed now and tilted her head slightly so he could touch his lips to her neck. Jack realized she must have sensed his intense lust and been a little fearful. The fact that he could make a little joke, however lame, reassured her. Made her think he wouldn’t lose control.

He hoped to God she was right.

If this hadn’t been his own personal fantasy, if she were less beautiful, less desirable, it would be better. As it was, Jack knew his self-control wouldn’t last much longer. If he were a gentleman, he’d take his time with her. Sit on the bed with her, talk to her, make sure she was relaxed. Calm her down. Spend a long time on foreplay. Make slow, careful love. That’s what a gentleman would do.

Pity he wasn’t a gentleman. The Colonel had drummed manners in him, and they’d stuck, but it was a thin veneer. He was by nature a predator, designed by blood to prevail no matter what.

Added to that was the fact that his biological father had been a nasty, brutal drunk and, knowing his father’s tastes in women, his mother had probably been a whore. The Colonel’s courtly ideas swirled in his head, but his father’s blood ran in his veins.

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.

Hesitantly, Caroline reached out and touched his stomach. Jack had to stop himself from groaning as she fumbled her way to where his sweater disappeared beneath the waistband of his jeans. In pulling it out, the backs of her fingers brushed against his hard-on, and they both jumped. Her hands flew away, as if they’d touched something scalding hot.

Jesus, he had to clench his groin muscles tightly so he wouldn’t go off.

“Sorry,” she said breathlessly, looking up at him wide-eyed.

Jack couldn’t answer. He knew he was a second from coming. If she touched him there again, he’d spill and embarrass himself forever.

“Maybe I should do this.” Breathing heavily, his skin coated with sweat, he stepped back and crossed his arms to pull the sweater off. A second later, his hands were at the button of his jeans and he was shucking them off, together with his briefs, socks and boots.

His cock sprang free. Her eyes widened, and Jack looked down.

He couldn’t blame her for the wary look on her face. Fuck, his cock almost scared him.

It was dark red and swollen, hard as a club, big veins visible, weeping at the tip. He didn’t let her get more than a glimpse of him. Cupping both hands around her head, he stepped forward and kissed her, more deeply than before, a complete possession of her mouth, while walking her backwards the few steps to the bed. When the backs of her knees met the mattress, he picked her up and laid her gently in the middle of the bed, following her down.

The feel of her under him was mind-blowing. He was operating on blind instinct now, unable to strategize, unable to think in any way. In a second, he’d opened her thighs with his own, hands cupping her head as he kissed her deeply.

There was no waiting possible. Spreading her thighs wider to open her fully, his cock slid along the folds of her sex, then he entered her in one hard thrust, his cock parting the tight tissues, the heat and pressure unbearably exciting. It felt like he’d stuck his dick into a plug. Prickles erupted all over his body, an explosion of heat and light went off inside his head, an electric wire raced along his spine, and with the next beat of his heart he was coming in long, hard streams that made him shake.

It was totally unstoppable, there was absolutely nothing he could do about it. Every muscle in his body clenched, and he shook and groaned as he exploded inside her. Though he was incapable of thinking clearly, at some deep level he realized he could bite her in his excitement, so he took his mouth from hers and buried his face in the cloud of hair, the smell of roses prolonging his spasms. It felt like he came forever, shuddering and groaning, as every drop of liquid in his body came spurting out of his cock. He was holding on to her hips in a death grip, pushing with his toes, grinding into her so he could be as deep in her as he could, and simply hung on while he exploded, heart beating double time, breath pumping in and out of his lungs like at the end of a fifteen-mile run.

Sweat poured out of him and plastered her to him.

It took ages before he was able to settle. When he got his breath—and his brains—back, and took stock, his heart sank.

Jack lay sprawled on Caroline, making no effort to keep some of his weight off her, though he outweighed her by a hundred pounds. She was sticky everywhere from his sweat and the gallons of come it felt like he’d poured into her. Their groins were wet, and he knew come had seeped down to stain the pretty flowered sheets.

He was known for his stamina but tonight it was as if he was fifteen again and green. He hadn’t even lasted a minute—he’d come the instant he’d entered her. The explosive climax had wiped out most of his memory, but he knew one incontrovertible fact.

Caroline hadn’t come.

Man, he’d fucked this up, but good.