A low rumble of approval vibrated against her back. “You like this.”
She gasped at a particularly masterful stroke. The intimidating size of his erection was now something she relished. He was so long and thick. The largeness of him ensured that he rubbed and stretched every sensitive spot, awakening a voracious hunger. She struggled against him, resisting the position he kept her in that prevented her from increasing his depth and pace.
“Tell me you like this,” he coaxed darkly, rolling his hips and fingers simultaneously, arousing her with consummate skill so she clenched greedily around him. “Say it.”
“Yes.” She whimpered in torment, aching every time he pulled out and left her empty. “But…”
“I can give it to you.” His tone was rough and deeply sexual. “Tell me what you want, Eliza, and you can have it.”
“More,” she begged, shameless in her yearning. “Give me more…”
Jasper’s hand cupped her swollen sex and pulled her back into a powerful lunge of his hips. Heat washed over her. His pace increased, the flat of his palm applying just enough pressure to stimulate her on the outside as well as within. Sweat coated her skin and his, making them slide along each other, releasing the fragrance of the oil and Jasper’s scent into the air. The room became hot and the counterpane damp, creating a lush humidity that intensified the experience. He whispered lewd praise, his words slurring with pleasure, his abdomen and thighs flexing powerfully as he drove into her. Tears filled her eyes, the tension so fine she felt as if she might break at any moment.
“Please,” she sobbed. “Please!”
“Right there,” he groaned, holding still at the deepest point and grinding against her, screwing into her another fractional bit. “Right there.”
She arched violently. The climax hit, her vision narrowing until it blackened completely. Her mouth opened in a silent cry of pleasure. Inside, she convulsed, tightening on him in the most intimate of embraces. Blood roared in her ears, drowning out all sound.
A thick wash of heat flooded the depths of her. Jasper cursed and jerked against her, shuddering in unison with every wrenching spurt.
Eliza felt her name on his lips as he emptied himself inside her, his mouth moving against her shoulder in a sweetly broken litany.
There was no place in Jasper’s life for Eliza Martin.
He lay on his side with his head propped in his hand, watching her as she napped. Strands of her beautiful hair clung to her damp forehead and cheeks. Her lips were parted, her chest lifting and falling in the measured tempo of slumber. She lay on her stomach, baring twin dimples in each curve of her extremely enticing buttocks.
Spread out as she was, naked and rosy-skinned and debauched, it was easy to imagine keeping her there in his bed. But it was only an illusion. His gaze lifted and swept around the nearly empty room. Aside from the bed and washstand, there was only a wardrobe and chair for furnishings. This evening with Eliza was the longest stretch of time he’d spent awake in his bedchamber since he took up residence in the house. In the normal course of his life, there would be laughter and loud voices filtering up from the lower floor. He would be adhering to a tight schedule, working as many hours as possible to keep income flowing. After all, there was nothing he wanted done that didn’t require coin to see to it.
Try as he might, Jasper couldn’t picture Eliza in any part of his home beyond this private space. The men who worked for him were coarse and sometimes ill-mannered. They would have no notion of what to do with a lady like Eliza. He had no dining table at which to feed her, no formal parlor in which she could entertain what few guests would deign to call on her here. His home was less than half the size of Melville’s and located in a part of town that, while acceptable, had never been fashionable.
Things would have to change drastically…
Eliza made a soft noise. He looked at her and found her rousing. She blinked, then rubbed at her eyes. He watched her vision focus on him. Awareness swept over her face along with a heated blush. She grew unnaturally still.
“Ah,” he murmured, smiling. “You look scandalized.”
“You look smug,” she accused, but with warmth in her eyes.
“Do I?” He stroked his hand down the curve of her back. How could he resist, when she looked at him as she was doing now? “If I do, so should you.”
He knew some of her feelings were inspired by the aftermath of orgasmic bliss and gratitude for it, but some of them were more deeply rooted. God knew he had never expected nor wanted anyone to love him, but he’d have a better chance of keeping Eliza if her attachment deepened.
She looked at her fingers, which toyed with a wrinkle in the counterpane. “I did nothing.”
Jasper tapped the end of her nose with his finger. “You’ll have to take my word for it. There are many ways to have sex, ranging from horribly disappointing to quite nicely done. What you and I just experienced is another sort of matter altogether. It takes two people with singular chemistry to achieve such a delectable end.”
Eliza remained strangely quiet.
“Sixpence for your thoughts,” he said, aware of tension eating into his contentment. “Is regret setting in?”
“No. No regrets,” she replied carefully, glancing at him. “The first day we met, you spoke of rare skills in sexual congress, and clearly you have them. What woman could regret ending up in your bed?”
“Your thoughts on the matter are the only ones that concern me.”
“I fail to see how that can be true. I didn’t even touch you. You were required to do all of the work—”
Laughing, he leaned over and pressed a kiss to her shoulder. “Sweetheart, that was far from ‘work.’”
“I should have done something!” she protested, looking less shy and more animated. She set her chin in her hand, which elevated her torso just enough to bare the upper curve of her breasts. “I feel sorely inadequate.”
Jasper was somewhat startled by the ferocity with which he was stirring again, simply from the sight of her and the thought of her deliberately arousing him. “Rubbish. If you had been any more adequate, the business would have been done before I was inside you. That’s why I made a point of facing you away from me.”
“You made certain I could not participate?” Eliza frowned. “I find that very unsporting.”
“Unsporting?” He grinned, enjoying her immensely as always. In all of his days, he’d yet to bed a woman who wanted to put more effort into pleasing him. Leastwise, not any he hadn’t paid for their services.
He gestured at his cock, which was half-hard. The semi-erection should not have been possible, not after the galvanic orgasm he’d been devastated by only a short time ago. “Men are easily enticed into the necessary physical state for sexual congress. It takes considerably more effort to arouse a woman. That’s why so many are left disappointed—in the race to climax, men always run the distance faster.”
“Disappointed? How can—”
“You asked me for more,” he reminded. “Imagine if I had given you less, or worse, said I was finished and it was a shame you couldn’t keep pace.”
“Oh…But you would never do that.”
“I would never do that,” he agreed. Even if it meant nearly killing himself every time he had her.
She pushed up, stealing his wits with the unexpected view of her perfect breasts. They were neither large—as he’d erroneously thought he preferred—nor small. When she sat back on her heels with her hands on her knees, he found himself speechless.
Then, her eyes widened and she bit her lower lip. Red-faced, she made a move as if to leave the bed.
He caught her wrist. “What is it?”
“I need a towel,” she whispered.