Okay, it was official, she was about to have an orgasm from his words alone. She would have sworn that wasn't possible but his firm, I'm-in-charge mouth that was lightly sucking, licking, biting its way down her throat was almost redundant.

Well, maybe not.

She clenched her thigh muscles to keep from squirming and cleared her throat even as she tipped her head back to give him more room to maneuver. "Hearing a lot of words here, Hamilton. Where's the action that goes with it?"

Oh, thank you, thank you, Jesus, for not letting my voice crack.It was bad enough she had the chest of a fourteen-year-old boy without sounding like one as well just when she most needed to sound like a woman.

"You want action, honey? I can give you that." Jared's hands left a wash of heat the length of her throat and across the expanse of her chest, which was bared by the wide peasant neckline of her red dress. He stroked its gathered edge. "Did I tell you how much I like this dress?" he murmured. Long fingers lazily brushed back and forth, back and forth, from the crest of her nearly bared shoulders to the spot where his fingertips met at the bow between the slight rise of her breasts. Then they glided back up her to shoulders and his eyelids drooped and his head lowered, allowing his lips to follow the trail his hands had forged.

Pushing up on her elbows, P.J. watched his fingertips pinch the drawstrings that held the bodice together between her breasts.

"I've wanted to do this all day," he said. And, his gaze on the slender cords of fabric in his hands, he pulled the ends, slowly untying the bow as if he were about to unveil a great work of art instead of a barely there set of boobs.

The neckline widened in a V down to the smocking that hugged her midsection from beneath her breasts to her hips, where the skirt, which under ordinary circumstances would have fallen to calf length in three tiered flounces, was bunched above her knees. Only her nipples preserved her modesty-and that by the barest of margins. Distended with arousal, they hooked the bodice in place. She watched Jared gaze at them as if weighing the merits of scooping the soft red fabric to the far side of the thrusting points. Apparently deciding to leave her covered, he rolled off her onto his side.

Propping himself up on one elbow, he reached out to smooth his free hand up her thigh. Slowly he bent his head over the cotton that covered her left nipple. Almost before she had time to register his mouth's amazing warmth and dampness, he looked up, met her gaze, and sucked. Hard.

It was like being hotwired to lightning and, breath exploding from her lungs, she arched into his mouth. Unharnessed power shot straight through her from the nipple he worked with such craft and skill to the tight, wet, aching spot deep between her legs.

Elbows melting out from under her, she found herself flat on her back once again, thighs sprawling wide until her right knee nudged up against his hard stomach. It occurred to her then that she was just lying here accepting everything he did as if it were her due. Thinking to offer a little reciprocal attention, she tried rolling to face him.

"No." His hands, gentle but firm, held her in place and his lips upped the suction on the damp fabric rapidly turning transparent over her nipple.

Omigawd, Omigawd.It took everything she had to pull herself back from the edge long enough to pant, "But you're doing all the work."

He mumbled something she didn't catch. "What?"

Raising his head, he shot her a wry smile. "Sorry. Talking with my mouth full. I said I'll get mine in due time. But if all those prep schools I got bounced out of taught me nothing else, they at least drummed one rule into my head. Ladies first."

He bent his head over her again, but this time he tugged on the little cap sleeves until they slid off her shoulders. "Well, look at this," he said, gazing down at her breasts, which had escaped their tenuous imprisonment, and at her arms pinioned to her side by the narrow sleeves he'd pulled midway down. "A two-fer. Your breasts all bare and pink, and a little light bondage allowing me do whatever I want with them." His gaze flashed up, pinned her in place. "With you."

Blushing, she tried to free her arms. The neckline with its loosened drawstring gave her some leeway, but still she could only widen the distance between her arms and her torso an inch or two before the material held firm. She began plucking at the midriff smocking in an attempt to tug the bodice to a point where she had a prayer of shedding it.

Rising onto his knees, Jared threw a leg over her hips to straddle her, effectively pinning the dress in place. "You claustrophobic, baby?"

"No."

Easing down to make room for himself between her legs, he lapped her shallow cleavage, gazing up at her as he did so. "Then why not just go with the flow?"

"You said you weren't into chains."

"And you don't see me using any, do you? I just want to make you feel good. And you've got such sensitive little tits I think we ought to see if I can make you come just by playing with them."

"What?" A laugh escaped her, but to her embarrassment it cracked right down the middle. "Of course you can't!"

"Bet I can. They're so responsive."

P.J. snorted. "They're so little they barely exist," she said flatly, giving the tiny offerings under discussion a disgusted look. Being flat on her back sure didn't improve their stature.

"The hell they don't. They're nearly a handful and that's all I need. They're gorgeous, so quit putting them down." He licked his way up the slight slope toward the center of her left breast. "And these aren't little at all, are they?" He blew on her nipples before pinching them between his thumbs and forefingers.

She bit her tongue to keep from mewling like a cat in heat. But God, that felt good! And he was right. She rather liked her nipples-they were the most prominent part of her boobs. Pale pink protuberances that thrust skyward from puffy areolae, they were quite long when cold or excited-and God knew they were excited right now. Not to mention really, really receptive to the way he kept alternating the force of his clasp on them from the lightest pressure to an almost but not quite painful compression.

He seemed to know it, too. "I think all your nerve endings in these babies are right on the surface." Giving the morsels in his fingers a tug, he lightly bit first one tip then the other.

A single quick, hard contraction deep between her legs made her cry out.

"Jesus." Jared clenched his teeth to keep his head from blowing off his shoulders. "You really did get off. Not a real big one, maybe, but an orgasm's an orgasm." Oh, man, he was hanging by a thread here. Moving up her lithe body, he planted a fierce kiss on her lips. "Again," he demanded the instant he came up for air. He was determined to concentrate on her pleasure. He had to in order to keep from burying himself in her receptive body with one savage stroke and driving toward his own satisfaction like a freight train jumping the tracks. It wasn't only that he prided himself on being a thoughtful lover. He never relinquished control. Never.

Well, okay, eventually he did. But not until the last possible moment.

And he wasn't about to let little Priscilla Jayne Morgan be the exception to his rule.

He was hard-pressed to keep that affirmation in the front of his mind where it belonged, however, as he slid his hand up under her dress and finally brushed his fingertips against the lacy panties stretching the thinnest of barriers between him and a little slice of heaven. They came away damp with her arousal and it didn't matter what he did to keep hold of the situation-he could feel his grip slipping another degree.

"Again," he repeated in desperation and insinuated his fingertips beneath the scalloped hip band. The next thing he knew they were sliding between buttery feminine folds.

"Oh!" Her hips arched up off the bed.

He sucked for a breath he hoped would actually penetrate beyond the superior lobes of his lungs. Closing his eyes, he concentrated on the feel of her hot flesh beneath his fingers. He feathered the slippery little nugget of her clitoris, then stroked his fingers downward. When he reached her opening, he gently circled the ring of muscle guarding her entrance until her thighs began to clamp down on his hand and restlessly spread apart, close around him and sprawl open. Then he eased his forefinger inside.

"God," he breathed, and it was a benediction rather than a curse. Bowing his head, he rested his forehead against hers. "You feel so good," he whispered. "So hot and wet. So tight."Very tight, now that he'd mentioned it. The way that molten sheath clamped around the single digit he'd slipped in her you'd think nothing larger could possibly fit. He raised his head to stare down at her. "How long has it been for you?"

"Huh?" Her eyes slowly focused. "I don't know, a year? Maybe two."

And he'd float an educated guess here that she hadn't exactly been working the bars on a nightly basis before that. Or that her version of working them had meant singing onstage with a nice, wide protective gulf between her and a club full of interested men. "Sweet," he murmured and kissed her.

She kissed him back with the boundless enthusiasm that made her Peej and his tongue soon developed a synchronized rhythm with the finger he pumped in and out of her. When she began making little squeaky noises and thrusting her hips up off the bed, he flattened his palm against her plump, wet cleft and ground the heel of his hand over her clit.

She went off like a rocket.