On the Hunt

He began to lower himself atop her again, but she darted a hand to stroke that soft thatch of hair, dipping two fingertips beneath his waistband to trace the scandalous path. She met resistance in the form of cotton boxers and Jamie gave her a sensual smile. In one easy motion, he rolled off of her and onto his side, unsnapping his fly with an easy flick of his fingers. He tugged his jeans zipper to half-mast, then guided her hand there, obviously wanting her to finish the job.

"Have at me, baby," he murmured, leaning into the pillow and closing his eyes. "I want to feel your hand all inside my pants, I admit it."

It was an admission and a gesture of full surrender, and she doubted Jamie Angel was much in the practice of giving himself over to a woman quite so fully. Undoubtedly he'd spent his entire romantic life dominating and avoiding intimacy.

Tentatively she gave his zipper a light tug, being gentle because of how it bowed outward with his erection. Slowly she managed to lower it, and much to her shock, his firm length bounced free and into the palm of her hand. It was warm, the flesh so much softer than she'd have imagined, and she traced her thumb over the tip. Dampness formed beneath her touch, and she jolted.

Surely a man didn't come this easily . . . did he?

Jamie opened his eyes with a lazy, aroused look. "Just what I want . . . Keep going, Sunshine."

There was so much she didn't know and should've asked Kate. Or at least read in a book, but she'd always been afraid of being reprimanded if she explored human sexuality. Now here she was feeling stupidly clueless. She touched his tip again and even more dampness beaded beneath her touch. Jamie growled in obvious pleasure, and she paused again.

"You're amazing, sweetheart. Nobody's ever touched me like you. . . ." He urged his hips upward, seeming to beg for more.

"You're not . . . done? But you're wet. . . ."

He barked a laugh and pulled her atop him, pinioning her close against his chest with both arms. "On second thought, let me show you a few things," he promised huskily. "I want to give you a different kind of heaven."

She was tighter than he'd imagined, but then again, he couldn't remember the last time he'd made love to a virgin. Actually . . . that would be never. His women had always been loose and ready and dismissive of foreplay, so taking it slow with Sunny was a revelation. Every time he stroked any part of her, she purred or moaned, and when he slid his fingertips between her legs, caressing the slick folds, her eyes flew open. She stared at him, panting, as he slowly slid first one finger, then a second inside of her. By the erotic look in her eyes, he was pretty sure she'd never fully known what to expect.

"I'm your love tutor," he teased, stroking a little deeper inside her, a back-and-forth friction that had her whole body warming against his own. "And you are an outstanding pupil, my Sunbeam."

She nodded, swallowing hard. "I want to learn everything. Feel everything with you, Jamie."

It was time; she was ready and wet and thrusting her hips against his palm. He drew a deep breath, knowing that she'd have a fleeting moment of pain with what he did next. Lowering himself between her thighs, he paused as their hips pressed close together. For one endless moment they both seemed to hold their breath, eyes unblinking and locked on each other. Everything would change; their entire future was suspended in this breath-stealing instant.

Finally, she gave a resolute nod, wrapping her arms tight about his neck and pulling him close.

"Now," she urged on a sigh. "Now, my love."

He surged inside her, feeling slight resistance, then only her grasping warmth, her welcoming fire. "Oh, God above, yes!" he half groaned and half prayed.

She dug fingers into the small of his back, surging upward as he plunged deeper into her. For an innocent, she knew exactly what she wanted—her body's instincts providing more direction than he ever possibly could.

They rocked together, and he lifted her right thigh up about him, wanting to be deeper inside her slickness, hungry to give her even more pleasure. She wrapped her other leg tight about his torso, embracing him with her thighs—and giving him the fullest penetration. As he hit that sweet spot, she cried out, throwing her head back against the pillow and clutching his shoulders. He felt her quiver about his hard length, and couldn't restrain himself any longer, either. Quaking all over, he plunged deep into her, riding out waves and waves of pulsing pleasure. With one hand he gripped the headboard, squeezing as the strong orgasm shot through his whole body; with his other he clutched her hip, urging her upward with every one of his thrusts.

And then a blissful stillness descended upon them both. A serenity that he'd never once known before in his life. They lay entwined, he exhausted atop her, she sprawled beneath with her legs still half hitched around his hips. After a moment, he lifted a sweat-slicked palm to her cheek, wiping away some dampness there. She blinked up at him wordlessly, wondrously, and he'd never seen more love in any woman's eyes than he did in Sunny Renfroe's right then.

"My wife," he said softly, brushing a wayward curl out of her eyes, "I do have one thing to correct you on."

She lifted both eyebrows high. "I did something wrong? While we—"

He silenced her by pressing fingertips to her lips. "You are perfect. That was beyond perfect. No, but what you said about me being God's gift to the women of Savannah?"

She nodded, and he stroked her lips with his thumb, smiling down at her. "Yeah, well, truth is . . . you're God's gift to me. That's the real way of it."

She beamed up at him, then began to giggle, clamping a hand over her mouth.

"What?" he asked.

"It's just . . . you're God's gift to me, too."

"And that's funny why?" he asked, frowning slightly.

"When I was little, I always did want a hound dog."

He rolled with her until she was splayed atop him, her breasts bouncing lightly against his chest, her legs spread wide about him. "For that, Mrs. Angel, I shall be forced to exact a penalty. Besides, I'm not a dog, remember? I'm your great big pussycat."

"And that makes me your catnip," she said as he felt his groin stir to life anew.

He pushed up against her still-damp opening and released a low, seductive meow right in her ear.

Yes, heaven. Sunny Renfroe was his heaven on earth.