“I can’t imagine how awful that was for you,” he murmured near her ear. “But you don’t have to be afraid of that. You’re
here with me.”
A puff of warm air struck his chest when she laughed. “And you can see in the dark.”
He gave a sad smile. No. History had shown he couldn’t see what counted in the dark. “I can tell you with one hundred percent certainty that the scariest thing happening in this cave at this very moment is maybe a few spiders crawling around. Are you afraid of spiders?”
“Well I don’t love them, but no, I’m not afraid of spiders.”
“What about dirt? Are you afraid of dirt? Because we’ve got plenty of that.”
She shook her head while her face was still pressed against his chest. He felt her small smile.
“You’re not afraid of me, are you?”
She lifted her head. He touched her damp cheek, marveling at how smooth it felt. “No. I’m not afraid of you. But John, what if we can’t get out of here?”
“We’ll get out of here,” he said firmly. He waited, feeling the tension in her body, wondering if she’d believed him. Her body sagged against him.
“I just hate the dark. I wish I could see you,” she said in a pressured whisper.
He brushed his thumb downward over an eyelid. “Then close your eyes.” He leaned down and kissed her mouth. Part of him was sad to feel the way she instantly responded to his offer of passion. She was so desperate to forget her circumstances.
Another part—a bigger part—was all too glad for the opportunity to possess her, no matter the reason.
* * *
His mouth, his stroking hands, his virile body—all of it was a delight to her. She couldn’t recall ever enjoying kissing a man more. Was his taste so addictive, his stroking hands so masterful, because of their emotionally charged, frightening circumstances? Or was John somehow unique to her?
Whatever the reason, his touch was electric. She whimpered into his mouth when he slid a large hand beneath her jacket and fondled a breast. She felt his cock leap next to her lower back and experienced a sudden wild urge to take him into her mouth again. He broke their sealed kiss, but continued to pepper her mouth with small, nibbling kisses.
“Your . . . nipples are . . . so responsive,” he murmured next to her lips as he lightly pinched and plucked at the pebbling crest.
“Thank you,” she managed, preoccupied as she was with coaxing him back to a full-fledged, intoxicating kiss. He leaned back slightly, depriving her of his mouth. He pulled her into his lap, facing him, and unbuttoned her jacket enough to expose both of her bare breasts. She shivered at the impact of the cool air on her nipples, and then moaned when John resumed caressing her, this time stroking both breasts at once.
“Tell me what it feels like when I touch them.”
She inhaled sharply, recalling what he’d said earlier about how arousing he found her voice. “Your hands are warm. Your fingertips are a little calloused. The . . . the way you’re touching them is making me shiver, it’s making the nipples pull tight.” She kept her eyes clamped shut, trying to focus on the rioting sensations his touch created in her so that she could put it to words. She swallowed a cry of excitement when he pinched both peaks at once . . . not hard, but sufficiently enough to cause a jab of arousal to go through her.
“Too much?” he murmured, gentling his caresses.
“No. I felt it all the way to my pussy,” she whispered.
His tweaking fingers stilled for a moment before he gathered both of her breasts in his palms, continuing to pluck and tease the stiff nipples with thumb and forefinger.
“Have you ever climaxed from having a man play with your breasts?” he asked, his voice sounding low and rough.
She laughed shakily. “You mean just that? No. Is that even possible?”
“Sure it’s possible. Rare, but possible.” She gasped when he ever so gently slapped at the lower curve of her left breast. Excitement shot through her, hot, sharp and forbidden. John resumed molding her breasts to his palms and finessing her nipples.
“Bad or good?” he murmured.
She knew he’d referred to that little slap. Her clit twanged in arousal. Her breast still stung a little. She wanted him to do it again.
“Good,” she mumbled, stroking his neck.
He gave a satisfied grunt and lifted a hand to touch her cheek. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, honey. Liking a little pain with your pleasure doesn’t make you a pervert. It’s exciting.”