Page 85 of Jane Deyre
She’s begging for me. So needy for me. I’m so fucking turned on. This isn’t how or where I fantasized fucking her for the first time. In my mind’s eye, I slid off her little black dress, trailed kisses down her spine, and carried her to my bed. Rain was nowhere in the picture.
But right now in the rain, Jane has never looked more beautiful to me. No woman has looked so beautiful. And I’ve never wanted her or any woman more than I do now. So, I stay in the moment and set her on the rain-slicked hood of the Rolls. Her legs dangling over the side, I shimmy up her dress as far as it will go. Then manage to pull it over her head after sliding down the zipper. In her black lace bra and panties, seated on the majestic car, the sheets of rain enveloping her like a glittering veil, she’s a sight to behold. A Madonna. A queen on her throne.
Her dainty breasts quiver, the swells of her nipples pushing against the lace, drawing me to them. The rain beating down on me, I bury my head in her bosom, tweaking each peak between my fingers, then sucking on them like they’re sweet nectar.
Moaning softly, she sweeps back a lock of my hair that’s fallen into my eyes as they trail down her long, slender legs. As smooth and delicate as fine white porcelain. Marred only by a shiny three-inch scar on her right thigh. As luminous as the strand of pearls around her neck. I wonder how she got it, but this is not the time to ask. I run my hands up her limbs, passing over the scar, and shove down her scanty lace briefs a few inches.
All wet, her glistening thighs tremble.
I stroke the silky patch of curls between them. The droplets of rain shimmering like tiny crystals beneath the beam of a lamppost. So, so beautiful. Beyond my wildest imagination.
My cock hardens, thickens with every heartbeat, every breath. The shaft feels so hot I swear it’ll steam when the rain falls upon it. So swollen, each pellet will hurt.
“My beauty, feel what you do to me.” I put her hand to my arousal. With a gasp, she cups her slender fingers around my length, barely able to circle it because of my girth. At her touch, an intense throb blooms between my thighs, so intense I can almost hear my cock crying out for her. I so desperately want to be inside her.
As if she’s read my every thought, she pleads, “Please, Mr. Rochester, I want you so much.”
About to free my erection, I impulsively slide a long, thick finger inside her.
Jesus. She’s so hot. So wet. And so, so tight.
She flinches. She whimpers... then it hits me. Is my beautiful Jane Deyre a virgin? A rose whose petals need to unfurl? A butterfly whose wings are ready to spread?
A flash of lightning, and at that instant, I realize I don’t want to fuck Jane Deyre.
I want to make love to her.
And be her first.
CHAPTER 45
Jane
I’m in a haze. Tonight’s events play in my head like a fuzzy movie. My ownMiracle in the Rain. Of Ward finding me, telling me he loves me, passionately kissing me, and ravishing me on the hood of the car. Burying his head between my thighs. Sucking and licking me. Filling me with bliss. Making me unravel with a single kiss. Then bundling me in his jacket to warm me and transport me back to Thornhill. Carrying me up to his suite via a secret back staircase I never knew existed.
The pellets of cold rain have been replaced by welcomed beads of hot water that pour from Ward’s shower. As they cascade over our bared bodies, we feverishly explore each other with our fingertips and lips. The fragrant liquid soap enabling us to glide our hands over every slick square inch of fired-up flesh. I soak in the angles of his jaw... the rise of his biceps... the contours of his forearms... the sculpted muscles of his chest... the ripples of his abs. Beneath my palms, the layer of dark hair that covers parts of his long, lean, taut body and arrows to his magnificent manhood feels like wet silk. As I hold his smooth, hard-as-marble length in my hand, marveling at it, he kisses me everywhere he can, his deft hands caressing my tender breasts and sensitive folds. Whispering sweet words of love while soft moans spill from my lips. He is, reader, truly the most beautiful man I’ve ever known. And right now, in the cloud of steam, all that exists is the two of us.
I come again all over his thumb, and he turns off the water. My legs like jelly, I let him transport me out of the shower, wrap me in a thick fluffy towel, and carry me to his bedroom.
Removing the towel, he sets me on his massive bed, supine on the silky midnight-blue sheets that shroud it. He mounts the bed and kneeling beside me, studies me.
“My darling Jane, your beauty can’t be put into words, and I’m a writer.”
More kisses, more caresses. He goes down on me and kindles a fire inside me all over again. I can’t get enough of him. Nor can he of me. As another burst of fireworks explodes between my legs, he spreads them further and mounts me, his hands by my head. Hovering over me, his smoldering eyes stay locked with mine while he pushes his erection inside me. Slowly and gently. One thick, glorious inch at a time.
Yet, I tense.
“Jane, my love, I want you to relax. Trust me. I’m not going to hurt you. Not now. Not ever. Just listen to your body.”
There’s something about the reverence in his voice, the selflessness, that enables me to open up. Willingly and unconditionally. A blissful moan escapes my lips as he eases into me.
His fiery breath heats mine. “God, you feel so good. So wet, and warm, and ready.”
Cupping his biceps, I take all of him. He slides back down my slick heat and then makes love to me. At first, slowly, as if to savor me in his bed. And to let me get used to his extraordinary size and the solid weight of his body. Skin on skin. Organ to organ. Powerful. Intimate. Protective. Divine.
He gets into a rhythm, rocking me with him. Then, he picks up his pace. Driving into me as if his life depended on it. And mine did too. Breathlessly, I meet his thrusts and buck against him. Allowing each thrust to go deeper and deeper.
I squeeze my muscles and wrap my legs around him, digging my heels into his perfectly formed buttocks. Not allowing him to lose our connection. Tears hover in my eyes as he smothers me with kisses and muffles my enraptured cries. Something is happening inside my body unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before.