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Bending forward, he reached out, snagged one foot, and jerked a boot from her foot, then did the same with the other.
“Now, goddamn it,” he barked.
Poppy jerked up, sitting on the bed, her fingers fumbling at the buttons of her shirt as her breathing became harder, faster. It seemed to take forever to unbutton it and hurriedly pull it from her shoulders.
Then she made the mistake of looking up at Jack.
His boots and socks were off and he was standing, releasing the chaps before sliding the zipper free along the sides of his legs. He tossed them aside, then slid the loosened jeans off his muscular legs. Defined, powerful, his legs were solid foundations for the rest of his body.
He looked up, his eyes narrowed.
“You’re still dressed, baby girl,” he pointed out, stepping to her. “I’ll have to punish you for that.”
Before she could do more than gasp, he broke the front clasp of her bra and pushed it from her, revealing the hard, swollen state of her breasts. Her back met the bed again, and two seconds later the jeans as well as her panties were sliding from her legs and Jack was tossing them aside before lifting her until she lay full-length on the bed.
From the table next to the bed, he drew a bottle of lubricant and a small vibrator and put them within easy reach before turning back to her.
She had no idea what to expect from him now, and that thought excited her far more than she liked to admit.
“I bought that little toy there just for you,” he told her as he pushed her thighs apart with his, spreading them wide.
Poppy watched him, fighting to breathe as her fingers fisted in the blankets beneath her.
Her hips jerked when his fingers ran over the folds of her pussy, sliding easily over the heavy juices gathered there, then parting her folds to find the entrance he sought.
“Baby’s so wet,” he whispered with a tight curl of satisfaction tugging at his lips.
Then he pushed two fingers inside her, fast, deep, sending a burst of fiery sensation streaking through her senses.
Poppy cried out, her hips lifting, feet digging into the bed as the shock of the penetration nearly threw her instantly into an orgasm. Inside, waves of pressure began rushing through her, the overwhelming need for release amped up so fast and so hard it radiated like a flame through her.
As she trembled on the edge of orgasm, every cell in her body reaching desperately for it, he eased his fingers back, slowly, retreating from the clenched inner muscles as her hips arched desperately to hold him inside.
“Think it’s going to be that easy?” he crooned, easing over her until his lips were touching hers, brushing over them teasingly.
His kiss, when it came, was deep, hungry. A mating of lips and tongues as he used it to hold her locked on that edge of desperate hunger. That place where she could sense her release, but couldn’t quite reach it.
When she was panting, fighting for air, his lips slid from hers and moved to her neck. She could feel the rasp of his evening beard, the scrape of his teeth. Poppy arched her neck into the kiss as she felt pleasure exploding along her neck’s nerve endings and pulsing through her body.
She moaned, her hands coming up to grip his shoulders as he placed one of those burning caresses that left his brand on her neck and felt so damned good.
By the time his kisses moved to her breasts, she was shuddering with a need that was almost painful, poised as she was at the edge of an orgasm.
Then his mouth covered a hard, ultra-sensitive nipple, and she swore she would finally slip over the edge. The hard, pulsing strikes of sensation to her womb, her clit, had her back arching, thighs tightening, certain she’d slip over that edge, only to have it back away again.
“No…” she moaned, reaching for it, her nails biting at Jack’s shoulders, her head thrashing against the bed.
She heard Jack chuckle, though the sound was strained.
Then he was drawing on her nipple, his tongue rasping over it as he slid his hand between her thighs, his fingers sliding through the excess of slick moisture gathered there.
He moved to the other nipple, treated it similarly, until Poppy felt her body was a mass of violent, sensitive nerve endings, each screaming for relief.
As he tormented the hard peaks, his fingers played between her thighs. Stroking, pressing, rubbing against the swollen folds and the tight nubbin of her clit.
She could hear the desperate mewls leaving her throat but couldn’t stop them.
He was playing her body like a windup toy. Winding her up, backing off, pulling her from the edge only to push her back again, yet never allowing her to slip over.
