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She gasped as his hands slid up to cup her breasts, rounding them, his thumbs rubbing at her stiffened nipples.
‘Then I guess you must be aroused.’
He bent his head and bit the tender curve of her neck, between nape and shoulder, his teeth grating gently against her flesh while his hands moved lazily on her breasts, his hips pushing rhythmically against the crease of her bottom, letting her feel the length of swollen shaft.
He spun her around and kissed her, hard and fast, hooking his fingers under her slender straps, pulling them sharply down her arms so that the slithery silk was dragged below her breasts, spilling their pale bounty over the shadowy fabric, an erotic contrast in colour and texture. He shaped the creamy curves and stroked the darkened tips, rolling them gently between his fingertips before bending to take them in his mouth, suckling each one in turn until they were unbearably sensitised.
His hand swept under her bottom and he lifted her in his arms, his mouth buried in hers as he carried her back inside and over to the bed, pushing her down, down, down into the feathery depths. He stripped the silk slip down over her hips and thighs and threw it off the bed, then he did the same with her G-string, his hands kneading her belly and breasts, his mouth stealing across the hidden delta of her womanhood to nuzzle into the musky darkness, his tongue lapping at the tiny budded erection there until she was racked with helpless convulsions.
Only then did he kick off his black drawstring trousers, drawing her hands down to his hugely jutting manhood, groaning thickly in ecstasy as he showed her how he liked to be touched and found her inventive enthusiasm more than he could handle and stay in control.
To Jennifer it was a dazzling revelation, beyond anything she had imagined, to have this sleek, powerful, sexy, sophisticated lover shuddering in her arms, lavishing her with his sensual praise, begging for her touch and responding to the lightest stroke of her mouth with savage abandon.
Finally he rolled over onto his back, his sweat-slicked muscles bulging as he lifted her to straddle his hips, his green eyes smouldering at her strangled cry of surprise.
‘Yes...like this,’ he said, his hands tightening on her hips as he teased himself against her satiny moistness. ‘This way you can control how much of me you take inside you.’ He gritted his teeth, finally remembering to ask, ‘Is this safe?’
‘If you mean will I get pregnant,’ she said giddily, ‘I already am.’
He shuddered, the tip of his broad shaft slipping inside her. ‘No, I meant for the baby?’
‘Yes, it’s safe. As long as you’re not too rough...’ Her fingers raked through his chest hair, her hair tumbling over her feverish face as she leaned eagerly over him, her voluptuous breasts swaying towards his mouth. She wanted him and she wanted him now!
His eyes darkened as he eased her gently down, stretching her, sheathing himself tightly within her clinging warmth. ‘I’ll take good care of you, darling, I promise,’ he told her. ‘I’ll make sure that every single orgasm is mellow and sweet and strong...’
CHAPTER SEVEN
JENNIFER stretched luxuriantly as she felt sunlight across her closed eyes, arching her back and pushing her toes towards the bottom of the bed, a delicious sense of well-being permeating her awakening body. Suspended halfway between waking and dreaming, she nestled on her side in her downy hollow, a slow smile curving her lips as she continued to drift on the lazy wings of her favourite erotic fantasy. She had Raphael Jordan at her mercy, his glorious, nude, aroused body tied to her bed, leashed for her pleasure. He was fighting against his silken bonds, his green eyes blazing fiercely as he begged—but he wasn’t begging to be set free; oh, no, he wanted her to keep him, he wanted her to keep him for ever because he knew she was the only woman in the world who could satisfy his craving for love...
Jennifer sighed as the sensuous warmth in her belly moved up to her breasts, exploring their relaxed shape, insinuating into the soft cleft between the pillowed mounds and encircling them with—
Jennifer’s eyes popped open and crossed to find Rafe nose to nose with her on the pillow.
‘Good morning, darlin
g,’ he purred, and kissed her as if he had every right to, taking his time, enjoying the muffled sounds she was making as she struggled to separate fact from fantasy.
‘What were you dreaming about? You looked like the cat that got the cream,’ he murmured, slowly withdrawing with a series of little pecks around her sleepy mouth.
She could feel her temperature go up, and the giveaway flutter of her lashes made him offer her a sultry, knowing grin. ‘You were squirming and rolling your hips, and making those sighing little moans you make when you have a man between your thighs...’
She flushed at the wanton image of herself. ‘You were touching me!’ she accused, looking down at his hands, which were still cupping her breasts. She noticed the faint red marks marring the creamy roundness, patches of whisker-burn and little pink crescents where Rafe’s mouth had feasted greedily on her succulent flesh.
‘I couldn’t resist,’ he said, snuggling closer, his lower legs entangling with hers under the bedclothes, which she discovered had been pushed down around their hips. ‘You’re so sexy when you’re asleep, all soft and pliant and innocently arousing. Are you going to breastfeed?’
‘Wh-what?’
Her sleep-deprived brain found it difficult to cope with the sudden switch from sexual banter to questions of maternity. Rafe had kept his promise with spectacular success, and mellow, sweet and strong had taken them far through the night. Long after the mountain outside the window had died back into a quiet smoulder, the molten passion had continued to seethe and pulse in the confines of the wide feather bed. Somewhere, also in the dark reaches of the night, they had talked about what Sebastian had done, comparing their versions of the truth, tacitly avoiding any mention of the future. Now he was back to the future with a vengeance.
‘The baby? Are you going to suckle our baby at your breasts?’ His hands contracted, her soft nipples slipping between his fingers. ‘A mother’s milk is important for a newborn baby’s immunity; it’s full of antibodies and guards against all sorts of infections later, even some chronic diseases. If you want to give your baby the best protection, you should breastfeed for at least six months, even a year or more...’
He was looking at her breasts as if they were miracles of wonder, and she could feel them begin to firm under his possessive gaze. ‘How do you know?’ she asked hoarsely, stunned by his command of the facts.
‘I bought a book. I read it coming over here on the plane.’ He lifted his eyes to hers, his expression faintly defiant. ‘That’s how I know you can’t feel the baby move inside you yet; it’s still only about ten centimetres long.’
He had been reading up about pregnancy and childbirth? Warning bells began to clang in Jennifer’s mind as his attention returned to her breasts and a faint frown marred his tanned forehead. He traced around her dark areola.
‘Your nipples are already quite large, and they’re going to grow bigger as you become more heavily pregnant... you don’t think they might get to be too much of a mouthful for a tiny baby?’
