Captain Jack's Woman (Bastion Club 0.50)

“Jack? Please?”

What man of flesh and blood could resist such a plea? He certainly couldn’t.

With a sigh of defeat, Jack pushed aside the disturbing conviction that he was about to commit an irrevocable act which would seal his fate forever, and turned. Kit was right behind him, waiting, her expression anxious.

Her heart in her mouth, Kit met Jack’s gaze, smoldering silver fire. Would he? When his eyes held hers, as if trying to see beyond the passion of the moment, her confidence faltered. Her arms dropped to her sides. The silver gaze fell to her parted lips, then to her breasts, rising and falling rapidly, and finally, to the auburn curls between her widespread thighs.

Jack groaned and took her to the sheets, turning her into his arms. “Hell only knows, Kit Cranmer, but you’re the most wanton virgin I’ve ever known.”

It was the last lucid thought either of them had. Their lips met in a frenzy of need, too long denied to be gentle. The fire of their passion engulfed them, obliterating any lingering reservations. When Jack swung over her, Kit accepted his weight eagerly, her hands kneading his back in frantic entreaty.

Eyes closed, savoring the feel of her slim body arching against his, Jack grimaced. She was going to try his control as it had never been tried before. “Bend your knees up. It’ll make it easier.”

Kit complied with the rough command, too far gone in longing to be concerned over the intimate and vulnerable position. She felt his fingers part her, then hardness, smooth and solid, entered her. The pressure built as he pushed farther, inexorably inward, forcing her heated flesh to yield him passage. There was no pain, but she felt the tension when he abutted the barrier that marked her incontrovertibly virgin. To her dismay, he pulled back. Kit clamped her muscles tight to hold him within her.

Braced above her, he gave a chuckle that changed halfway through to a groan. “Relax.”

Passion permitted her a spurt of resentment. Relax? He might have done this countless times before, but he knew she was a novice. Did he have any idea what it felt like, to have him invading her body in such an intimate way? At the thought, Kit pressed her head back into the pillow. She moaned, with relief, with anticipation, as she felt him return, surging up to the barrier, only to stop and retreat again.

Gradually, as he repeated the motion, Kit caught his rhythm. Instinctively, she matched it, tightening as he withdrew, relaxing as he entered. Even through her slickness, she could feel the friction in her flesh. A flame of a different sort grew steadily, ripples of tension concealed within it.

Jack’s groan was encouraging. He dropped from his elbows, the pressure of his chest soothing her aching breasts. Kit hugged him to her. Her lips sought his, every bit as fervent as he. Her breath was suspended when his tongue delved deep. The sensation that streaked through her was quite different now that he was inside her. Her tension built. She felt her body arch hard against his, her hips lifting, searching. One large hand pushed under her until it cradled her buttocks. At the limit of his next outward movement, the long fingers slipped between her thighs, to the point of their union. And pressed.

Kit came off the bed, arching wildly in the grip of a passion she’d no hope of controlling. In desperate need of air, she dragged her lips from Jack’s, pressing her head back into the pillows. She felt him thrust powerfully and a fiery pain flared inside. Her fingers dug into his back as he plunged deep into her body. Abruptly, the pain of his invasion disappeared in an explosion of delicious release, her tension peaking and overflowing in intense ripples through her straining muscles, the flames he’d stoked transforming pain to pleasure.

It took some minutes before Kit’s mind registered anything beyond the warmth left behind by the flames. They continued to flicker, drawing her back to reality and the fact that. Jack was holding still, his cheek pressed hard against her hair, his breathing a ragged, desperate sound by her ear. Her senses returned and she felt the steady throb of him, deep against her womb.

It was torture of the most exquisite sort, but Jack held still, every muscle clenched with the effort. He should have expected it. The damn woman had done everything she could to bring him low so of course she’d climax at just that moment. As their heartbeats mingled, the tension of her release dwindled. Her body’s instinctive response to his invasion subsided as her muscles adapted to the novelty of having him buried inside her. When her hips tilted slightly, experimentally, as if to draw him deeper, he released the breath he’d been holding and started to move.

Kit responded immediately, caught by the discovery of how easily he rode her now that there was no barrier holding him back. His lips returned to hers and she accepted his kiss eagerly, her body straining against his as sensation washed through her. The tight buds of her nipples brushed his chest, over and over. With something very like awe, she felt that odd tension burgeoning once more, swelling and growing and expanding within her.

Jack released her lips, his breathing labored. His thrusts rocked her; she urged him on, her hips meeting his, her hands urgent on his back.

“Jack!” Kit’s breath caught on a sob.

Her second climax overtook her, hurling her into the limbo of lovers. She was deaf to Jack’s triumphant shout as he followed her.

Firelight filled the room with shifting shadows, gilding the heavy musculature of Jack’s back as he stood at the end of the bed and stared, frowning, at the woman curled naked under the sheet.

The vision of how she’d looked, sprawled, sated and at peace beneath him, shook him. It took no effort to conjure up the rosy-tipped breasts, firm and proud, the tiny waist and those hips that had defeated him under the tree. And her legs—long and slender, thighs firm and strong from riding. She’d given him the ride of his life. He glanced down, and was relieved to see the memory hadn’t stirred him beyond mild interest. She was exhausted—more from her own excesses than his. He’d no plans to mount her again that night.

Jack took a long sip of brandy from the glass in his hand. She’d fallen asleep virtually instantaneously the first time. He’d held her cradled in his arms, tired but not ready to sleep, prey to an emotion he couldn’t define. He’d forgotten it when she’d stirred. Her lids had fluttered, then opened wide, the amethyst eyes large and shining. He’d been watching, interested to see her reaction. Having been in the same position often before, he’d been prepared for anything from shocked reproaches to smug self-satisfaction. He hadn’t been prepared for the smile of dazzling beauty that had lit her face, or the warm tenderness in her eyes. And even less prepared for the kiss she’d bestowed on him.

His body had reacted with a vengeance. His control in abeyance, he’d been unable to rein in the passion that had flared. When her fingers had touched him, stroked him, he’d been rigid and ready for her. He’d heard her chuckle, delighted with his response as she continued to caress him.

“You fool! You’ll be sore enough as it is.”

She’d only laughed, a low, husky, mind-numbing sound that had frazzled his good intentions. “I’m not sore at all.”

He’d lain on his back and tried to ignore her. She’d come over him, her breasts brushing his chest, to kiss him long and lingeringly, exploring his mouth as he had hers. His control had been in tatters by the time she’d drawn back to whisper against his lips: “I want you Jack. Inside me. Now.”

How he’d remained still in the face of such an invitation he’d never know. But she hadn’t been defeated. “I’m hot and wet for you, Jack. See?” And the brazen woman had caught his hand and guided his fingers to where her warm honey was spilling onto her thighs.

With a groan, he’d delved deep and heard her breath catch. An instant later, he’d rolled her onto her back and, with one powerful thrust, had sheathed himself to the hilt in her welcoming warmth. And it hadn’t stopped there.

He’d tried to remind himself she was new to the game, but her responses drove him far beyond rational thought. However hard he pushed her, she met him and urged him on, matching his passion with hers. Of her own volition, she’d wrapped her long legs about his waist, opening to him completely. As her tension had mounted a second time, he’d remembered what he’d promised himself.

“Open your eyes.” Thankfully, she’d responded to his gravelly command, ground out through clenched teeth. His next thrust had sent her spiraling over the precipic