Montan a Wildfire - Page 56

The fire in Jake had never died, but her response to what he was doing made the flames glow red-hot. He lowered his mouth to hers, and the taste of her on his tongue made him impatient to taste more of her. All of her. Now. The feel of her nestled in his hand was driving him insane, chipping away his normally staunch patience, chipping away his usually powerful self-restraint.

A minute was too long to wait to be buried inside of this woman. Sixty more seconds of this would kill him, Jake was positive of it.

That was all the time it took for him to ease away from her, to impatiently rid them both of their rain-dampened clothes.

When they were finally naked, he laid Amanda back down on the ground and let his gaze devour her. The way she was spread out before him made her look deceptively slender, almost fragile. Almost. Her skin was moist from the drizzling rain. The way the water shone against her pale white flesh made Jake ache to sip the wetness off of her skin with his tongue and lips.

He didn't, not yet, but soon. Very soon.

He straddled her hips, and his slitted gaze scanned breasts that were heavy and more perfectly formed than days of fantasies had made him dare dream they would be. She was full and round, her nipples puckered and pink and tempting. His gaze slummed her slender waist, marveling at the way it flared into temptingly curved hips. His attention snagged on the nest of golden curls between her thighs. The urge to possess returned with staggering force; had he been standing, he would have crashed to his knees.

Jake shifted, blanketing Amanda with his body, nudging her legs apart with his knees. She opened for him, and he sandwiched himself between her thighs. The tip of him probed moist, velvety flesh, but he resisted pressing into her. For just a few seconds, he was content to know release was in sight—content to merely look at her flawless face, to watch her lashes flicker against soft white cheeks.

His contentment burned away the second her thick, honey-tipped lashes swooped up. Her green eyes, wide and questioning, held him prisoner.

A thousand words ran through Jake's mind, phrases that would make this first time easier for her. Easier for him. He didn't utter a single one. He couldn't. The anticipation he saw in her eyes clogged any words he might have spoken in his throat.

Her hands lifted, skimming his back before her fingers tangled in his long, dark hair. Her palms cupped his scalp, drawing his lips down to hers for a searing kiss. Only when their lips met did Jake's hips arch forward. Only then did he slowly, slowly enter the tight, warm core of her.

The barrier was broken as delicately as his feeding passion would allow. He felt her tense, and he captured her startled whimper with his mouth. His scalp burned from the pull of her fingers fisting his wet hair, but the pain didn't last long; it only seemed like it lasted forever. Soon, she relaxed. Soon, she began moving in an age-old rhythm beneath him.

Jake pushed forward, sliding into her fully. Only once he'd buried himself as far as he could go did he pause. A surge of emotion rocked through him. The strength of it made him shake.

The feeling was that of coming home.

Amanda moved restlessly, arching her hips upward, searching. Now that the initial pain was forgotten, she began to burn again. It was like a slow-building fire that sparked in her thighs, insistent and demanding. The warmth spiraled to her abdomen when Jake began moving atop her, moving inside of her.

His thrusts were smooth and unhurried, deep and long—and much too slow, as far as Amanda was concerned. She wanted a tempo to match the one drumming through her blood. She wanted fast and wild. She wanted more. Of Jake. Now.

She wrapped her legs around his hips. Her grip tightened, her hips eagerly met his as he plunged into her. She held him to her, deeply, until he groaned, shifted, almost withdrew, then thrust into her again.

And again.

And again.

The fire in her blood melted into the liquid heat of all-consuming passion. A need stronger than anything she had ever known before throbbed through her. It was aggravated beyond endurance by the way Jake's head dipped and his mouth and tongue suckled her neck. Her chin shot up, her head twisted atop the ground as, following her urgings, he quickened the pace.

"Remember," she murmured, his words coming back to her with breathtaking clarity, "once you've set the pace you can't let up or you'll have to start from scratch."

He laughed—softly, deeply, a sound that rocked Amanda to the core. His hands slipped beneath her back, holding her close. Their moist bodies slid together and apart and together once more. Flesh rubbed against hot, wet flesh.

Amanda's hands skimmed Jake's back in a smooth, downward stroke. She cupped his hips in her palms. Her fingers tunneled into flesh and muscle as she encouraged him to move faster still.

The feelings inside her were melting together—electric, building, just out of reach. No, just within reach. Her body arched to meet powerful thrusts and retreats. Each plunge was longer, deeper, fuller than the last. Each rise of her hips was bolder, more daring, more demanding. She felt herself tightening around him, felt minuscule spasms shudder up her spine, building and building. She was on the brink, the very precipice of...

What?

Jake had held himself back for as long as he could, but... dammit he was losing it. He couldn't wait much longer. She felt too good, too warm and tight and wet. Her body was milking a response out of him that he didn't want to give her, a response he couldn't, no matter how hard he tried, hold back from her.

Think of it as like... making love.

He drove into her, his pace reaching a frantic pitch. Each thrust brought their chests into searing contact. He could feel her hardened nipples grazing against him, burning into his skin. He could feel her rapid, ragged breaths burning over him.

He wanted release. He wanted it right now. And, goddammit, he wanted it for both of them!

And what Jake Chandler wanted, Jake Chandler got.

The first tiny quivers of her tightening and releasing around him was the sweetest form of torture Jake had ever known. His control came damn close to shattering. White heat shot through him when he felt her arch, clinging to his back as she buried her face in his shoulder and cried out her pleasure.

Tags: Rebecca Sinclair Historical
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