Brazen strength, slender hips, not an ounce of excess flesh, the lantern by the bed casting shadows to be discovered.
“You’re gawping, Miss Penrose.”
Before she could think of any droll retort, her wits having melted, he joined her on the bed and kissed her. A bold kiss that spoke of everything he would do.
Tongues darted and roughly plunged, stubble grazing and causing irrepressible shivers.
Impudent hands swept away the coverlet to caress her breasts, stomach and thighs, and she ought to have felt nervous or alarmed, but this was Jack.
Beautiful Jack, whom she trusted with her body and soul.
Their dalliance at the bathtub had simply been a prelude. Now all was hastening intent and gasping deeds whilst she juddered in delight, pleaded for more. She scratched her nails down his spine, bit his shoulder, until she knew he could take no more.
Wind whipped the old house and a shutter rattled, rain pounding in a sudden onslaught, and Tamsyn shared the storm’s wildness, its need to unleash.
Jack’s lean hips parted her legs, which gripped and refused to release, feeling as though she’d always waited for this moment.
For Jack.
Blunt virility nudged her core and although it should have frightened her, all she felt was freedom and anticipation and joy, heart leaping uncontrollably.
A sharp burn caused a flinch, yet she didn’t care. She welcomed it, drove her own hips to his, because it meant Jack was a part of her.
Whilst he pushed, sank deep inside, he kept his sooty gaze direct, watching for discomfort, pupils never straying, a growl nevertheless escaping his lips.
His teeth gritted as she reared, a dark flush upon his cheekbones, and Tamsyn gave her own wicked smile. “Show me, Jack. Show me life.”
He groaned, burying his face in her neck, nipped and sought, rocking leisurely despite her appeal. “You will be my undoing, Tamsyn Penrose.”
Oh, she did hope so.
The rocking grew fiercer, their breaths catching, lips meeting, breaking only for gasps of sultry air.
Lightning lit their bodies to white, no longer marble but warm wax, melding and supple, curving and pliant.
“Deeper?” Jack gasped, arms holding, muscles locking.
In answer, she scratched nails at his buttocks, had learned he shuddered in pleasure with it.
Rougher, reckless, harder. She wanted it all. All the years she’d not lived, not had Jack in her life, and all the coming years without him.
She’d take it all.
“Give me deeper,” she pleaded. “Give me wilder, faster, give me the rogue.”
“I’ll give you more than the rogue,” he rumbled sinfully.
Jack clutched her thigh around his now pounding hips, rhythm relentless, the thunderous skies no match for the storm brewing within.
So savage and powerful, and the pleasure, gushed, spilled, seeping into every crack, every limb, bone and scar. She cried out his name, relished his fierce black gaze, before her eyes closed in endless rapture and searing intensity.
Jack could restrain no longer as her beautiful eyes glazed and perfect body clenched. He wanted all of Tamsyn – her wild passion, quiet strength and indomitable spirit.
He’d dreamed of tangling fingers in her hair whilst being deep inside her, and now at last, he did so, fisting the chestnut length whilst he thrust, tempestuous and overcome, drowning in her sweetness.
The pleasure when it surged was as fierce as any tumultuous sea, pitching him under, leaving him breathless, straining over Tamsyn’s slight form with sharp grunts and errant words.
His senses erupted, filled with nothing but joy, light and Tamsyn’s sky-blue gaze.
