Bound to You by Bethany Kane Page B

and hard in your little pussy. Hold still and let me fuck your pretty mouth a little. Oh, God that feels like a miracle.”
    She clenched her eyes tight, overwhelmed by emotion, sucking him as hard as she could while he pulsed his cock in and out of her mouth.
    “I feel it, honey,” he muttered. She felt it too, his penis swelling even larger in her mouth. “I’m going to come.”
    He groaned gutturally. She felt warm semen jet onto her tongue. He jerked his hips more forcefully, but she kept up with him, sucking him while he ejaculated, keeping his final ride smooth and electric. He’d given her so much pleasure, she’d forgotten herself . . . lost herself in it. She wanted to do the same for him.
    She wanted to do more.

Chapter Six
    John insisted that she put back on every stitch of clothing she possessed, including bra, panties, scarf and boots. “Every little scrap will help keep you warm,” he told Jennifer.
    He brushed off his coat and donned it. After he’d found the softest spot available, he called to Jennifer and she came down on the ground with him. He took her into his arms, marveling at how soft she felt, so feminine pressed against the straight, hard planes of his body. She lay against his abdomen and chest and he closed his coat around her, hugging her tight.
    She turned her face into his chest and gave a low purr of contentment.
    “You all right?” he asked, caressing her jean-covered hip.
    “I’m very good,” she murmured, turning her face into his chest. He liked the way she did that, nuzzling her nose into his chest as if she craved his heat, his nearness. After a moment, she laid her cheek against him. He felt her muscles go lax, and wondered if she slept.
    He listened to the sound of the falling water and considered their chances for getting out of the cave alive and well. If they could just hold out for another two days, chances were a rescue team would eventually find them. Two more days trapped with Jennifer Turner.
    There were worse ways for a guy to spend his time.
    A hell of a lot of worse ways for a man to die.
    No, they’d get out. That was a good certainty. There’d be a decent insistence upon finding him when he was noticed missing, but Jennifer Turner? They’d plow the ground until they found her.
    They’d be rescued. No doubt.
    But the longer he spent with Jennifer, wouldn’t it be harder for him to let her go? He got it, why she’d wanted to become intimate with him. She’d instinctively understood it would help her combat the terrifying fear and claustrophobia she experienced in the absolute darkness. They were clearly sexually compatible, that much was a certainty. But once they were free of the cave and she was no longer living on the edge of fear, his use to her . . . her need for him, would entirely dissipate.
    “John?” she asked, scattering his thoughts.
    “Yes?”
    “Earlier . . . when you said that thing about the man your ex-wife fell in love with, how he had a bum knee but a great set of eyes, what did you mean by that?”
    “I was just sulking.”
    She lifted her head from his chest.
    “No, you weren’t. You don’t sulk.”
    She said it with so much confidence, even sounding a little defensive at his self-criticism.
    “Something happened to Adele and me about six months before our divorce. I guess you could say it was the first step leading to our breakup. Maybe not. I don’t know. It probably would have happened sooner or later, but what happened just set things in motion.”
    “What?” she whispered.
    “Two men broke into our town house one night. Burglars.”
    “Oh no.”
    “Yeah. We were sleeping. I would have been alerted sooner if Enzo was there, but we’d just returned from a trip to Adele’s mother’s, and she’s allergic to dogs. We got home late, and Enzo was still staying at a friend’s house. I heard the burglars and woke up, but they were already closing in on the bedroom by the time I got out of bed. I caught one of