“I love how you call me George,” he quipped, looking at me as if I was the most beautiful creature on the planet.
“I love that you let me…” I trailed off, suddenly emotional as I looked at him.
“I love that you've become so important to me,” he added, gazing at me from under heavily lidded eyes.
“I love that you are so totally wrapped up in my life now,” I answered, my heart thumping wildly…what were we saying? We both paused, and he seemed to be making a decision…but I wanted to say it first. I knew how I felt.
He breathed in one quick breath, and then said, “Grace, I…”
The waiter, returning to our table with our menus, interrupted him. As he began to run through the specials, I caught Jack's eye and winked at him. He smiled back, that perfect smile that now belonged to me. He had my heart; I might as well take that damned sexy grin.
Stupid waiter…
We ate dinner, laughing and teasing and talking about anything and everything. Even though we both said we were going to eat fast, we were enjoying it so much that before I knew it, the candles had burned low, the champagne (both bottles) were long since gone, and we were relaxed and fully happy.
We were alone, Jack having sent the waiter away eons ago. The stars overhead were bright. The waves were like a drum beat punctuating the night.
“This was perfect, Jack. Just perfect. Thank you for such a wonderful evening,” I said, taking his hand in mine.
“Now hold on, Crazy. This night is just getting started,” he said, standing and pulling me to him. “I, for one, am ready to head back to our cottage…yes? Say yes, Gracie,” he chided, his hand on my face, nodding my head for me.
“Yes. Yes. Yes,” I chanted, each word followed with a kiss to his neck, his ear, his chin.
“Hmm, that sounds familiar,” he teased, winking at me. We walked back through the gardens, through the night, back to our cottage. I could see it glowing in the distance and I felt my skin begin to warm as I thought of all the delicious things Jack would be doing to me in there and all the things I would get to do to him as well.
When he turned the key and unlocked the door, I gasped. There were candles everywhere, on every surface. They were all lit, and the effect was spectacular. I turned to face him as he shrugged out of his jacket.
“You wicked, wicked man. How did you do all this?”
“I'm a celebrity, we get things done in a big way, babycakes,” he teased, running his hands up and down my back. The skin there heated instantly with the electricity that always flowed so freely between us.
“And a fire in the fireplace? Wow, that's impressive,” I continued, walking backwards into the room.
“Yeah, I saw it in a book about how to woo women… apparently you all like to be boinked in front of a roaring fire.” He laughed. I arched an eyebrow at his use of the word “boinked.”
The laughter slipped away as we really looked at each other. I kissed him chastely, and whispered, “I'll be right back, don't go anywhere.”
He smiled and answered, “Crazy, there is nothing that could drag me out of here tonight,”
I shook my head to clear it and made my way to the bedroom. Once inside, I quickly grabbed my bag and went into the bathroom. I let my hair down; it was softly curled around my face, and then looked at the two pieces of lingerie I'd brought. I never usually dressed for bed, it was pointless. For one, Jack preferred me in one of his shirts, and I agreed. Secondly, I was rarely dressed for very long anyway once I was in the bed, so it was almost stupid.
This night was different and I wanted to wear something for him. I had gone back and forth between the slutty and the sweet.
Option One, a black baby doll nightie, which covered me just enough. Lacey and see through, it was hot. I looked amazing in it and I knew it would drive Jack wild.
Option Two, a white silk nightgown. It had spaghetti straps and it hit me just below the knee. It swept down low in the back, while the front dipped low enough to give him a glance at his favorite of my attributes. I knew this would also drive Jack wild.
I made my selection, and placed my hand on the door, then took a deep breath and walked out in the room.
Jack was waiting for me.
The_Unidentified_Redhead
Chapter Twenty-One
When I walked back out into the living room, I felt like someone else was moving me; my feet were not moving on their own. I padded softly to where he stood with his back to me, facing the fireplace. He had turned out the last of the lights, leaving the room entirely lit by candlelight, and the soft glow of the fire cracked quietly. The stereo was playing softly in the background. This stage was set. I felt my nervousness return.
Why are you nervous? This is your Jack…
That is exactly why I was nervous. This was my Jack, and while he had explored every inch of my body with wild abandon, this was something new, something different. And it would alter the way we looked at each other from here on. This would not just be sex, though I was loathe to call it making love…I always hated that term. But something would be made here tonight.
I gazed at him in quiet reflection, watching his strong hands running through his hair as he watched the flames. I took him in…his strong back, his strong arms, his strong jaw…his strength.
A contemplative sigh escaped my mouth and he turned to me, his face radiant in the glow from the dancing light. His eyes took me in now, sliding down my body and back up to my face. A smile crossed his features, which I answered back with my own.
“Hey,” I whispered
“Hey, yourself,” he answered back, as he admired my choice in lingerie.
My hair spilled down across my shoulders in the firelight. I knew he could see the shape of my body beneath the ivory gown that clung to me like a sheath. I felt beautiful, but nervous? Yep, I was nervous, and I'd started shifting my weight back and forth, rolling on my ankles slightly in a way that he had come to recognize and call, Nervous Grace.
Was he nervous too? How could he be nervous?
But there he was, biting his lip in the way that always intoxicated me so. There was a hunger in his eyes, but there was also trepidation. The fact that he seemed nervous made me fall in love with him all over again.
And I was in love with him. There was no getting around it now. This boy, this man, had taken my heart, wrapped it up in his arms, and carried it with him. I wanted desperately to tell him, to let him know how I felt about him.
He finally spoke, breaking the nervous silence between us.
“I need…I need to touch my Grace,” he stated simply, and crossed to me.
As he closed the distance between us, even though it was only a few feet, I grew more nervous. For all my posturing and joking, I was nervous, here…now. He stopped in front of me, reaching out with one hand to gently stroke my hair back from my face.
“Grace…you're beautiful,” he whispered to me, and I felt myself relax as I leaned into his hand, pressing my cheek into his palm. His other hand cupped my other cheek and he brought his face to mine. Gently he kissed my forehead, my eyelids, my nose, my blushing cheeks and, finally, he brought his lips to my own.
“Your lips belong to me,” he whispered.
He kissed me slowly and tenderly, his lips barely brushing mine. His kiss was like our first kiss on the beach, hesitant but deliberate. I breathed in his sweet scent, remembering the first time I was aware of it. Sun, chocolate, vanilla, pipe tobacco, chimney smoke, and that pure Hamilton that underlined it all.
I felt my body responding to him and my nervousness fell away. My hands came up to his face, mimicking his own. I opened my eyes and found him staring at me in wonder. I pulled away slightly so I could see him, and then said, “Kiss me again, please.”
He smiled and obliged. My hands fell down and caught around his waist, pulling him tighter into me. His kiss deepened and his tongue pressed against my lower lip. I opened my mouth and felt him enter me. I moaned a little at the feel of his tong
ue against mine, and his hands clutched at my face, then began to lose themselves in my hair.
My hands crept around to the front of him and began to work on his shirt, unbuttoning it slowly. His hands slid down as we continued to kiss, my silk catching on his rough fingertips, calloused by his guitar. I managed to work his buttons open and pulled his shirt off him. He was reluctant to remove his hands from me, so his shirt hung down from him in back while my hands ran the length of his torso.
The smattering of strawberry blonde colored hair tickled my nose as I pressed myself closer to him, snuggling into his chest. I reveled in the feel of my skin on his, warm and comforting. His hands roamed endlessly across my arms, my neck, my back, my sides, finally settling on my shoulders as he carefully began to push the straps of my nightgown aside. It dropped slightly, dipping low. He smiled again as his eyes followed the curve of my skin, then returned to mine, the green beginning to deepen.
His eyes belonged to me.
As my nightgown lowered, one breast was exposed. He gazed with something like awe at the little freckle that was perched just above, his 'landmark' freckle, he called it. He smiled, and his hands ghosted across me. I felt my skin pebble beneath his fingertips, and I heard his low intake of breath as he touched me. I could feel him responding to my own arousal, and he increased the pressure on my breasts. I moaned my approval, and he lowered his head to me, stopping to kiss my collarbone and the little hollow at the base of my neck. He swept kisses down my chest, trailing a path towards my exposed breast. I giggled a little at the sensation, but my hands came up to his hair, running my nails up and down, encouraging him.
He captured my nipple in his mouth and I could feel it rise beneath his touch, while his hand kneaded my other breast. I moaned thickly, shifting my legs a bit at my own arousal. He bit down then, lightly, and the feel of it was beginning to drive me a little mad. My gasp of pleasure only increased the fever that was building, but he began to slow things down.
He pulled away from me, to my dismay. His face was a little playful.
“Where do you think you're going, George?” I asked, my voice sounding husky and low.
“Oh, I love it when you call me George,” he murmured, returning to my skin, his voice thick and seductive.
His voice belonged to me.
He slipped an arm around my waist and scooped me up, the other arm hooking underneath my knees, cradling me to him. He walked us towards the bedroom and I kissed his neck while we moved across the room. His eyes burned into mine as we made our way towards the bed.
“This is like a Danielle Steel novel,” I teased, and he rolled his eyes at me.
“Would you just let me do this my way, please?” he replied, blowing a raspberry on my neck.
I smiled bashfully at him as I saw that he had turned down the covers for us already, and then I noticed there were chocolates on the pillows.
“Candy!” I exclaimed, before I could help myself.
He chuckled.“You want to eat candy now, love?” he asked, nuzzling at my ear.
“No, not just now…but it's nice to know that it's here…for after.” I smiled, glad that he was still holding me so tightly.
“Yes, for after,” he replied, setting me gently on the bed. He leaned over me, kissing me again, more deeply now. Like an undercurrent, the passion between us was now becoming more pronounced. There was a need, a hunger that would quickly consume us.
I pushed his shirt back and it finally fell off his frame as I began to work at his zipper. He groaned when I inadvertently brushed against him, and I felt his excitement underneath my hands. I looked back up at him and was astounded by the lust in his eyes, the green growing darker by the second. I pushed his pants down and they fell to the floor.
He was bare beneath.
I giggled in surprise and then licked my lips instinctively. “Nice,” I praised.
He grinned in return. “I believe you forgot something too, Crazy,” he answered devilishly, placing a hand between my legs and touching me through the fabric of my nightgown. I hissed as he searched for my absent panties. “I thought so…” He chuckled, pressing harder on my already swollen sex.
I lay back, propped up on my elbows, admiring the view of my Jack, naked between my legs. It was a sight I would never tire of—the lean lines of his torso, the muscled forearms, the tapered fingers, the lovely blonde hair that led my eyes down to the heaven that was him.
With achingly slow precision, he slipped the straps further down my arms and removed the silk gown from me. I lay before him, naked and wanting.
He breathed in heavily, almost gasping, and said, “Beautiful.” His tongue crept out, licking his lower lip in anticipation.
His tongue belonged to me.
I could stare at him for days on end and never tire of the view before me. He leaned back, taking me in, admiring me as well.
“I love the soft curves of your breasts, the lean angles of your arms, the flush of your skin, the roundness of your hips. Jesus, Grace,” he purred.
I was relaxed under his gaze. Everything about him told me he loved my body, exactly the way it was.
Everything he was doing, everything he was saying was making me ready for him, and I desperately wanted him to make me…what did I call it this morning? Hmm, see, God.
He leaned over me, pressing his lips against my breast, taking my nipple into his mouth again, swirling his tongue and listening to me moan.
“That is so…unreal,” I murmured, throwing my arms behind my head and arching my back so that I was pushed up like an offering. My legs came up tight around his waist as he swept kisses across from left to right, slowly building me up. I continued to moan, almost in anguish as he dragged his tongue down across my stomach and circled my belly button.
“Oh, God,” I cried, as he fluttered his tongue along the length of my tummy, tasting the salt of my skin, smelling the scent of my skin that he himself had identified as a mixture of clean laundry and blessed coconuts.
He returned to my breasts, taking each nipple in his mouth in turn, nibbling firmly as I writhed below him. He sucked on the right one before releasing it with a pop that made me arch off the bed entirely and bury my hands in his hair. My eyes flashed open wide, and I knew he'd seen my desire growing frantic.
My left hand struggled to dip below and find him, but he kept himself just out of reach.
“No Grace, not yet. You,” he promised, caressing my breasts again, marveling at how they fit perfectly into his hands.
“So breasts? Belong to me…” He moaned.
True to form, he would make sure to take care of me before himself. I had come to enjoy this aspect of his tenderness of course, but it never failed to amaze me how much he enjoyed bringing me pleasure, putting my needs before his own.
What he was doing to me was making me crazy. My blood was boiling and my insides were going to mush. I was moaning almost constantly, the feeling of his mouth on my breasts was beyond description. As I felt him brushing his lips lower on my body, I cried out again in anticipation, knowing where he was going.
I felt his warm hands on my thighs, nudging them apart gently, tenderly. He gazed down at me, his eyes fixed in unapologetic worship. What had I done to deserve this man? As he settled between my legs, he looked up at me once more, his eyes meeting mine. I moved my left hand down to grasp his right, holding tightly to him. He smiled at me, as his lips kissed the inside of my right thigh.
“Jack…” I breathed, keeping my eyes on him as he continued to sweep gentle kisses along the soft skin, moving to my other leg. He was within inches of me, and yet he concentrated his mouth along the tender skin on either side, eyes always on me. He watched as I began to breathe more heavily, every pass taking him closer to where I needed him to be.
I could see the need in his eyes, the want and the lust.
“Please, Jack, please,” I begged him.
His eyes, still fixed firmly on mine, spoke to me, answering my pleas. His mouth hovered over me,
teasing me for what seemed like hours, but actually only mere seconds passed. Finally, he kissed me, as only he could.
His mouth belonged to me.
No doubt he could feel me tense beneath his mouth. He knew my body so well now, understood that I was close already. He dipped his tongue into me, slowly, knowing the reaction he would get.
I rose up off the bed violently and gave a great sigh. I was then silent, as I always was when I was truly lost. Using his fingers, he gently parted me, sweeping his tongue up and down, back and forth and I began to moan again.
He lapped at me, more forcefully now, making swoops and swirls with his tongue. He pressed his fingers into me, curling, searching for that one spot, the one that I called my “J-Spot.” He'd chuckled the first time I'd told him I'd renamed it after him, but on later reflection, he thought it fascinating… and flattering.
Pressing his fingers down, he fixed his mouth firmly on my other sweet spot.
My breath came fast as I began to cry out, “Oh, God, Jack…please…don't stop…don't stop…that is so good…oh, God.” I began to rock my hips in syncopation with his tongue, his mouth and his fingers as he stroked me from the inside. My moans became his, as he struggled to keep me flush against the bed.
He ceased for a moment, looking up at me and grinning that devilish grin.
“Your taste belongs to me.” He smirked.
His mouth, his tongue, his fingers, his hands, his everything were in perfect concert, and with a shiver, I came.
I came hard and strong, and sweet tension ran through my body and out of my fingertips and toes and the ends of my hair. I chanted his name over and over again like a prayer, as wave after wave crashed through my frame. I saw light and love, and I felt another orgasm take me again.
I shuddered and shook, and he stayed with me the entire time…never stopping, keeping time with me and staying just ahead of every single solitary need I had. He knew what I wanted even before I did.
As I finally came back down, my eyes almost crossed with mad lust, I felt his teeth nibbling at the inside of my thigh, refreshing my Hamilton Brand. I smiled through my orgasm haze, thinking of his wicked, wicked ways.