“More.”

With a deft wiggle, Jack freed Kit’s breasts from their bands. Her startled gasp was cut off as his lips returned to hers. Her mouth opened to his penetration, a honey-sweet cavern yielded like an offering. He might be in the grip of a raging lust unlike any other he’d ever experienced, but he still took time to savor her while his hands freed her shirt from the waistband, pushing the sides of her coat and waistcoat wide apart, baring her breasts for his ministrations. When his hand closed about one delectable globe, he felt a shudder of pure pleasure pass through her and knew she was his.

Kit was entirely beyond thought, her mind overwhelmed with feeling. Jack’s confident possession of her breast brought a murmur of denial to her lips, but he ignored it. She ignored it, too, as his fingers sought her tightening nipple and caressed it to aching hardness. He seemed to know just what her flesh required, far more certainly than she did. When he turned his attention to her other breast, she pressed the soft mound into his palm, seeking relief from the driving need for satisfaction.

Jack drew back slightly, the better to view his conquests. The ivory skin of her breasts sheened like silk beneath his hands; it felt like satin. The rosy peaks were tight little nubs, dusky against the ivory. She had beautiful breasts, not overly large but firm and perfectly rounded. One strawberry-tipped peak beckoned; he dipped his head to taste it, drawing the succulent fruit into his mouth, swirling his tongue about the sensitive tip.

Kit lost the fight to stifle her gasps. Her fingers tangled in Jack’s hair, pulling long strands free of the riband at his neck. He suckled, and her fingers tightened on his skull. God! She hadn’t known she could feel so intensely. Her breathing was ragged, desperate yet disregarded. Feeling was all.

Desire drumming heavy in his veins, Jack released her breast. His lips returned to hers while his fingers sought her waistband.

Relief flooded Kit. Jack seemed content to nibble tantalizingly at her lips, allowing her mind to struggle free of the drugging effect of his kisses. She tried to ignore the peculiar hot ache deep within her, called to life by his passion, quietly building even though his own ardor seemed to have abated. Thank goodness he’d stopped! Her sense of right and wrong was hopelessly compromised.

What had Amy said? The kiss had come first-Jack had certainly cleared that hurdle. She’d willingly prop up the tree for the rest of the night if he’d only continue kissing her as before, deep, hot, and searing. What happened next? Her breasts-Amy had been right about that, too. Jack’s hands on her breasts had been a purely sensual experience; she now understood that hitherto inexplicable female tendency to allow men to fondle their breasts. Kit shuddered at the memory of Jack’s mouth on her nipple. Desperate to remember the next stage in Amy’s scheme of loving, she pushed aside the recollection. What came next?

Whatever it was, Kit doubted she should wait to see if Jack would attempt it. Even her wilder self agreed it was time to take her newfound knowledge and run. In between savoring the heady taste of her teacher, warm, male, and aroused, she fought to regain some degree of control, some power to act. Jack had already gone too far, but at least he’d ceased his scandalously bold caresses. He’d drawn her into deep waters; it was time to retreat to safer shores.

With an effort, Kit gathered her wits and drew her lips from Jack’s light, lingering kiss. He let her go without complaint, his head immediately dipping to her breast, tracing a path of fire to one burgeoning nipple.

Kit shook her head; words of firm denial formed on her lips.

They exploded in a long-drawn, half-sighed “Ja-ack!” of protest as she felt his palm flatten possessively over her naked stomach.

Kit’s eyes flew wide. While she’d been gathering her wits, he’d been opening her breeches! Jack suckled on one nipple, and her fingers clenched in his hair, holding his head to her breast as her hips tilted into his shockingly intimate touch.

And then things got worse.

His long fingers slipped into the silky curls between her thighs.

Kit moaned and struggled to find the strength to break free of the conflagration of her senses. He was igniting it, and she couldn’t stop the flames. She didn’t even want to anymore.

But she had to make him stop.

His fingers parted her soft flesh and pressed gently.

Kit forgot about stopping. Pleasure streaked through her, sharp and tangible. His fingers set up a deliberate circular motion, first one way, then the other. His lips pulled hard on her nipple and a bolt of white-hot desire shot from her breast to the point where his fingers pulsed flame through her flesh.

His name was on her lips, a soft sigh he didn’t mistake. Kit felt the low rumble of his satisfaction. Then his lips returned to hers. It never entered her head to deny him-she welcomed him, lips parting to receive him. She felt his weight as he pressed against her, the hard muscles of his chest comforting her aching breasts.

The material of her breeches strained across her hips as his hand pressed between her thighs. Mindlessly, she parted them further, wordlessly inviting the intimate contact. When one long finger slid slowly into her, she shuddered. Amy’s words blossomed in her brain. Hot and wet. Kit knew then. She was hot and wet. Hot and wet for Jack.

Her every sense was centered on his finger, on his slow, inexorable invasion. Kit felt molten, her nerves liquefied. Heat beat in steady pulses through her. She tried to break free of his kiss, to draw breath, but he wouldn’t allow it. Instead, his tongue set up a slow, repetitive dance of thrust and retreat. Inside her, his finger picked up the rhythm.

Beyond thought, beyond any sense of shame, Kit responded to the building beat, her body twisting and lifting in his intimate embrace, opening to his deepening caress.

Having made certain of his victory, Jack turned his mind to its accomplishment. And hit a snag. Several snags.

Three seconds of rational thought were sufficient to make clear the enormity of his problems. The ground about them was uneven and strewn with flints-an impossible proposition, even if they had a blanket, which they didn’t. He didn’t know what sort of tree they were under, but its bark was thick, rough, and sharp. If he took her against it, it would shred her soft skin. But the truly insurmountable difficulty he faced was her breeches. Tight-fitting inexpressibles, they clung to her skin as if she’d been poured into them. He was well accustomed to getting himself out of such attire-they peeled off his form readily enough. They didn’t peel off Kit at all. He’d opened the flap to caress her. Now he needed far greater access, but try as he might, no amount of tugging seemed to shift them from her curvaceous hips.

Jack moaned deep in his throat and slanted his mouth over Kit’s, deepening the kiss in an effort to deny the truth. Dammit! She was so hot-hot and ready for him. His finger slid effortlessly along her heated channel, slick with the evidence of her arousal. The urge to scorch himself in that slippery heat was overwhelming.

He was too well acquainted with the female body to miss her increasing tension. He didn’t have time to stop and get her to assist; he couldn’t afford to let her cool. He’d pushed her well along the route to fulfillment-impossible to draw back now.

Frustrated beyond measure, pulled by an urgency outside his control, Jack released his manhood. It sprang free, erect, engorged. He withdrew his hand from between Kit’s thighs, ignoring her helpless moan. With a yank, he gained as much leeway as her tight breeches would allow. It wasn’t enough.

With an anguished groan, Jack slipped his throbbing staff into the furnace between her silken thighs. If that was to be the only piece of heaven offered him that night, he was in too great a need to scorn it.

Kit groaned into his mouth. She had no doubt what the pressure that had replaced his hand was. But she didn’t care. No-she did care-she wanted it there. Even more-she wanted him inside her. He drew back and thrust into the soft hollow between her thighs. In their curious, fully upright position, he could not penetrate her, yet she felt the swollen head of his staff nudge her soft center. Instinctively, she clamped tight about his hard smoothness, dragging her lips free to draw a shuddering breath.

Jack’s head was bowed, his temple pressed to her curls, his breathing harsh in her ear. Kit felt him withdraw. She moaned her disapproval and tilted her hips, trying to draw him back. To her relief, he returned, his hips thrusting, the rigid column of his manhood parting her slick, swollen flesh and nudging deeper, the sudden friction sending shafts of pure delight coursing through her. With his next thrust, a furnace opened deep. Kit’s hands clenched in Jack’s hair; her body strained against his.

Then it happened.

Ripples of tension gripped her, surrounding and compressing her heat until it exploded, sending molten waves of sensation surging along every vein. Indescribable excitement gripped her, and her soul burned, consuming her overloaded senses. Caught on the crest of their passion, abandoned to feeling, she clung to Jack, his name soundless on her lips.

The flames fell and spread their heat through her flesh. Kit tilted her hips, instinctively seeking his fulfillment as part of hers.

Equally instinctively, Jack took the extra inch she offered him to penetrate more deeply into her slick heat. He gasped as the scalding softness of her swollen flesh engulfed him. Yet the ultimate caress of her body remained beyond his reach. His muscles quivered as frustration fleetingly impinged on rampant desire. His chest labored as he struggled for control. The hot honey of her passion poured over him; the faint, pulsing ripples of her release caressed him. Jack forgot about control. He withdrew and thrust again, over and over. The wave of his release hit him, crashing him into pleasured oblivion.