Page 21 of It’s You

He looked at her face, which must have been kiss-bruised and heavy-lidded. He flinched as she ran her fingers through the black hair on his chest. His ragged voice held a note of humor. “Darcy, I don’t date. I work…I work for…Ohhh…”

His voice trailed off as she leaned forward, pressing her lips against one angry slash of white under his left nipple.

He lay back slowly, drawing her with him until she was lying across his chest, peppering his torso with kisses and licks.

Finally, she straddled his lap and bent her head, finding his lips and kissing him gently, tenderly, like she would if she loved him, if she had always loved him.

He moved his hands down to the bottom of her sweater and tugged it up over her head, then reached up to cup her breasts.

Darcy shuddered with pleasure as her nipples tightened instantly into pert peaks under his palm.

He pushed the thin lace aside and leaned up, taking one in his mouth to suckle strongly, making her writhe against him, moaning in pleasure-pain.

He moved to the other nipple to do the same, and Darcy couldn’t help gasping at the sharpness of the pressure, the heat of his lips on her sensitive skin.

She ran her hands through his black hair, holding him against her breasts as he licked and circled.

She grabbed handfuls of his hair, eyes closed, heart beating out of her chest.

He finally eased her down onto her back and kneeled on the floor beside her, leaning over her, kissing a path from her breasts, down over her belly to the waist of her jeans.

He unbuttoned and unzipped them, slipping his hand under the waistband, under her panties, flattening his palm over the soft, springy hairs there.

She breathed in sharply, and Jack looked quickly at her face.

Please let me, Darcy. Please let me touch you there.

How could she possibly say no? She had never felt anything as exciting, as hot, in her entire life.

It was like she’d die if he didn’t move his fingers lower, if he didn’t touch the secret parts of her.

She closed her eyes in acquiescence, and he moved his hand lower, one finger searching for the little button of pleasure hidden in the sensitive folds.

When he found it, she bucked against his hand lightly, feeling her insides slicken in pleasure as a whimper escaped her throat.

He rubbed lightly in hypnotic circles, then up and down, the occasional friction of his fingernail on her clit making her almost see stars.

His thumb took over his ministrations, and she felt one of his fingers move slower, stopping briefly at the opening of her sex before entering her body, sliding in slowly, the hot, wet walls of muscle clinging to the welcome intrusion.

He moved the finger all the way in, then withdrew it slowly, his thumb still circling the hardening nub with increasing pressure.

The world started swirling, and Darcy opened her eyes.

Please, Jack. Help me.

A second finger joined the first, hooking forward and pressing against the wall of her sex as his thumb rubbed the sensitive folds right above his moving fingers.

Darcy threw her arm over her eyes, moaning as pleasure and urgency increased to such a climax that her body exploded.

She bucked hard against his hand, moaning his name, stars bursting behind her eyes.

At the same time, it was as though her heart exploded too, and she felt the full, unbridled, unfettered force of her feelings for Jack Beauloup.

Feelings that hadn’t lessened over the long years away from him, but had amplified to such a pitch that they crashed over her like sound, like waves, like certainty in a coupling fraught with ambiguity.

She had argued with him about the binding, but she knew in that moment, as her heart contracted with the rest of her body, she was bound to Jack.

She belonged to him, just as she always had.

He moved from the floor to sit on the couch, gently lifting her limp head onto his lap, then coaxing her into his arms, cradling her face against his chest.

“Oh my god,” she whispered, curling up against him and finally opening her eyes. She tried to catch her breath as shudder after shudder still racked her body.

“Easy, baby,” he said softly, stroking her hair and rubbing her back lightly. He pushed her hair gently off her forehead and kissed her tenderly.

She leaned back from his chest to catch his eyes.

That was the first time I ever…

I know.

He smiled and kissed her lips gently, nudging her head back to his chest. Darcy could hear the racing of his heart.

The evidence of his arousal was still rampant in his lap, and he was probably aching.

She leaned back to catch his eyes again, her starched New England sensibilities deeply relieved that she didn’t have to articulate her thoughts aloud in order for him to hear them.

But what about you? Are you…okay?

I’m fine, Darcy. Better than fine. I got to watch you.

But you ? —

I can wait.

With infinite tenderness, it dawned on her that he had stopped when she had climaxed and hadn’t pushed her to satisfy him in turn.

She wondered what kind of strength it took to take care of her and deny himself.

Phillip had never been overly concerned about her pleasure when they’d been intimate.

But even including several college flings and a one-night stand with a visiting professor from England, Darcy hadn’t known what she was missing.

She was thirty-five years old, and tonight she’d had her first orgasm.

Darcy reached down for her sweater and pulled it over her head, adjusting her bra back over her nipples, catching his frank assessment of her breasts before they slipped out of view.

He exhaled loudly and grinned at her.

“That was…” She was at a loss for words and suddenly a little self-conscious.

“Yeah, it was.”

She smiled back shyly. “I should get going.”

“Wow. Just like that?” He reached out and took her hand, his face tired but happy. “Stay with me.”

She ran her other hand through her messed hair, then put her palm gently on his cheek. “I shouldn’t.”

“Please stay.” He reached up to cover her hand, leaning into it, closing his eyes.

She looked at his impossibly perfect chest and messy hair, the gentle way he held her hand against his face. Couldn’t she stay? Couldn’t he carry her up to his room, and couldn’t she stay all night? Couldn’t he make love to her over and over again on his big bed?

No. Not yet. Her body wanted every inch of him, but her head still had to adjust to his return, his strangeness, the sheer force of their connection.

“Jack, I’m not ready yet.” She shook her head, giving him a small smile. “ Attends-moi ?”

“Thief. Stealing your brother’s line.”

“What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

“Come back tomorrow? Come for a walk in the woods.”

She beamed at him, chuckling softly. “You know my weak spot.”

“I’m counting on it,” he whispered.

“What time?”

“I’ll pick you up at sunrise.”

“Sunrise,” she agreed, before kissing him softly and saying good-night.