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Beauty from Surrender (Beauty #2) Page 48
Author: Georgia Cates

He uses his tongue to apply more pressure to that pleasurable site and I feel my orgasm rushing toward the surface. I grasp his hair as I always do and tug. "Right there. Just like that." And a moment later, my entire body tenses as it escapes my mouth…the scream he knew he'd get out of me.

When I release his hair, I still feel his mouth against me as he says, "And she crosses the finish line, ladies and gentlemen."

I shove the pillows behind me and scoot backward on the bed. "This race isn't over yet."

He starts at my ankles and kisses his way up my legs. "Oh, this next part isn't going to be a race. I plan on taking my time with you, Miss McLachlan. Who knows? This could take all night."

"Promise?"

He grins as he continues up each of my legs. When he reaches the apex of my thighs, he stops to kiss the top of my pubic bone. "Always so smooth. You'll never know how much I like that."

He continues up my stomach until he reaches my br**sts. His mouth hovers in the center of my chest and he pushes them together to make a Jack Henry sandwich. The thought makes me giggle inwardly.

He moves up to my neck and pushes my hands over my head. "Turn over."

I roll to my stomach, my hands still over my head, and he begins kissing my neck. He slowly moves his way down and doesn't leave a single spot neglected. I'm covered in goosebumps—what he's doing drives me crazy, and he knows it.

And then he's at my lower back—the spot he covets—and he begins licking me. I don't know what it is about it that he loves so much, but I don't care if it means he does this to me. It's a turn-on like no other.

He moves on to my bottom and this is where he gets a little freaky. He does his nibbling thing where he bites my ass, but then he moves his mouth down between my thighs. He uses his knee to push my legs apart and shoves the pillows under me. I'm bent over them and…oh, f**k! He licks my girlie parts. From behind. He's never done it from that angle before and it feels…kinky. And I like it. A lot.

He grabs the back of my thighs and pushes them up and apart so my bottom is up in the air. I think being positioned like this would be mortifying as hell if what he was doing didn't feel so amazing.

He astonishes me the way he can always pull a different rabbit out of his hat.

He suddenly stops and says, "No, you're not coming like this again. I want to be inside you next time you get off." He cues me to roll over by tugging on my hip.

When I'm on my back again, he lies down on top of me. We're eye to eye. He runs his hands down the length of my arms until he finds my hands and lifts them over my head. He laces his fingers through mine and squeezes them. He doesn't take his eyes from mine—and doesn't even blink—as he enters me. But I see the look, the one that tells me how good it feels to be inside me. I can never mistake that look of pleasure for any other.

I bring my legs up and around him so I can feel him deeper. With Jack Henry, close is never close enough. I always want him nearer.

He props his weight on his elbows and cradles my head inside his lower arms. He showers kisses all across my face. "I love you so much. You are everything to me." Our hands are still fisted above my head and he squeezes them tighter as he continues slowly moving inside me. He presses his forehead against mine. "You kissed my heart awake."

Now it's me squeezing his hands tighter. "God, I love you."

He shifts his hips so he's putting friction against my sweet spot as he moves in and out of me. There's nothing like having a man who can make me come so many different ways, even with slow, gentle lovemaking. But there's especially nothing like hearing him tell me he loves me as it happens. From what I hear, I'm in the minority. I don't think most women orgasm with intercourse alone. But not all women have Jack Henry for a lover.

When it's over, he relaxes against me. I take my legs from around him and let them fall apart so he can nestle between them while he's still inside me. I cherish these moments, when we're still joined as one.

"Promise me you won't let another man do these things to you after I'm gone."

Wow. That sounds so final, like we're going to say goodbye and never see one another again. "No man will touch me like this or any other way. You're the only one."

"Swear to me."

"I swear."

He wraps his arms around me and I do the same. We squeeze one another to the point that it's almost painful. "I'm terrified of losing you."

"I'm terrified of losing you too."

He presses his forehead to mine again. "I can't stand it. I said I wouldn't do this, but I can't help myself. Please, come home with me. I know you can't have the career you want in Australia, but you know I can take care of you. You'll have anything your heart desires and you'll never have to work."

I consider it for a moment, but he still hasn't asked me to marry him. "I can't. I don't know how we'll make it work, but we'll find a way. We have to because the alternative isn't an option."

Chapter Twenty-Four

Laurelyn and I have spent the last two days either in bed or in the shower so we could go back to bed together. I'd say these were the best days of my life except for the reason behind why we've been nymphos for the last forty-eight hours.

I'm leaving today, and she's not coming with me.

We're standing at the security checkpoint and the sickening feeling I have in my stomach is far worse than I'd imagined it would be. I feel short of breath and my chest aches from my heart being torn out. The pain is even worse than when I found Laurelyn's goodbye letter.

I'm not a man who cries—ever—yet I feel it right there about to happen. It's foreign and I'm fighting it, but it's getting harder and harder with each passing minute. Our separation is imminent, and inevitable.

I'm holding her in my arms. I'm squeezing her harder than I should. I'm probably hurting her, but it's my attempt at meshing us into one so I don't leave her behind. And it isn't working.

I hear her soft, sweet voice against my ear and feel her trembling in my arms. "Don't leave," she whispers.

I feel the tears when they come and I bury my face in her hair. "Don't let me leave without you."

And we're back to that place I hate. She won't come and I can't stay.

Our time together is winding down. We don't have much time left and I pull away from her so I can see her face. "This is not at all the way I wanted to do this."

"I know. I didn't want you to leave with things between us feeling so…unsettled."

She doesn't understand I'm referring to something entirely different. "That's not what I mean, baby." I reach into my pocket and take out the black leather box I've carried everywhere with me for the last two weeks. I waited for the perfect moment, but it never presented itself. Now I get to do it this way only minutes before I'm about to leave her for God knows how long.

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Georgia Cates's Novels
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