Taking one last sharp nip at her rock-hard nipple, Jack kissed his way up her chest to nuzzle her neck. His fingers played with that sensitive spot in her channel, just behind her clit, while his thumb strummed the hard little button in an unhurried rhythm. Though he wondered if he’d ever feel the blood in his fingers again, satisfaction poured through him when she tightened on his fingers once more.
“Cher,” he whispered in her ear. “What do you want?”
“Now,” she panted as he rubbed the pads of his fingers right across that sweet spot inside her. “God, please. I need…”
“Me to stop?”
“No. No, sir!” Her voice came fast, hard, in between breathless sighs.
Color bloomed in her cheeks, and the sunshine rained down on her fair skin until she looked like she was glowing.
God help her, because Jack had every intention of taking her, not just to his bed, but to his playroom and driving her up and over so sweetly and so often that she would have no more qualms about pleading for what she wanted and turning to him when she needed it.
A savage bolt of lust lurched through his cock at the thought he could succeed, that she would surrender her body, her mind, and her will exclusively to him. The thought aroused him like nothing ever had.
“Tell me what you need,” he murmured into her ear. “You remember what to say.”
“I want to come on your tongue. Please, sir.” She grasped his shoulders, nails digging into his flesh with the urgency of her need. “Please.”
“You beg sweetly, cher. How can I resist?”
Her frantic fingers filtered into his hair and she gripped, little darts of pain exploding across his scalp. God help her when he finally got her under him. He was going to pound into her with the ferocity of a jackhammer, mercilessly plying that sweet pussy with his cock until she came over and over—and took him with her.
“Now!”
Her voice took on a panicked note. Her sex gripped his fingers so tightly he could hardly move them. She dangled at the edge of the cliff. And she’d been there a while, long enough for her body to push past her mind.
“Demanding minx,” he teased as he nipped at her earlobe and scratched at the sensitive point inside her clasping pussy. “I promised I’d give you what you want. Once I have, you’re going to follow me into the playroom so I can bind, clamp, and fuck you any way I please, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” she sobbed. “Yes, sir!”
“Good girl. I’m going to bend you over my table and take your hot little pussy over and over. You’ll learn to beg readily and come on command, cher. Then,” he breathed against her skin as he began traveling down the body in a series of caresses and biting kisses, “I’m going to open that pretty ass of yours to my cock and settle in for a nice, long ride.”
He whispered the words right against her clit. A strangled moan escaped her. The muscles of her thighs clenched, trembled. The slick heaven of her sex strangled his fingers. Her hands, still in his hair, tightened into desperate fists.
Perfect. Like a fantasy. Morgan responded to his touch, to his wicked, whispered suggestions exactly as he dreamed. Once he pushed her past her inhibitions, delving beyond her conscious mind into her untapped sexuality, a wealth of sweet, mind-blowing submission belonged to the man who could master her.
It was as if she’d been waiting just for him.
The thought charged through his cock like a livewire.
“Come for me,” he demanded against her cream-drenched pussy.
Quickly, he extracted his fingers from her and raked them over her clit. In the next heartbeat, he shoved his tongue inside her rippling channel, reaching with the tip to manipulate the sensitive spot inside.
She exploded with a scream that echoed across the swamp. With the tight grip of her fists in his hair, she pushed his face against her, into her. Fresh cream gushed into his mouth, and he lapped at her greedily, triumph and a desperate urge to get inside her, command her, clawed at him. Need clamored.
Take her. Claim her. She’s yours.
Yeah, and what would Brandon say about that? What would Morgan herself say? He hoped she would say yes, because for once in his life, he didn’t want to just be someone’s good fuck. He wanted every touch to mean something.
Why her? Why now? What had happened to the drive for revenge that once glowed red hot, like fired metal, down in my gut?
Jack frowned against the thought.
Long moments later, the clasping of her sex eased around his tongue. Her fists slowly uncurled. Jack took a last, longing lick of her, promising himself more later and rose to his feet. She looked dazed and flushed and shocked by her own response.
There was untouched sensuality inside her, ripe for a man strong enough to push past her barriers, caring enough to see to her safety and peace of mind. Morgan didn’t know there was much more inside her.
Yet.
And damn, he wanted to be the man to show her.
“Good morning,” he murmured.
He pressed a soft kiss to her trembling mouth, nudging her lips apart and sliding his tongue inside in a slow, coaxing glide. For a moment, she recoiled against the taste of herself on his lips. Jack grabbed her, cradling her head in his palms and forced her to taste the sweet perfection of herself all while deepening the swirl and dance of the kiss. Finally, she relaxed against him, opened her mouth to him, and drew his tongue and the taste of herself deep inside.
Respect of her quick acceptance surged inside him. No, it was flat-out pride—and that was both a joy and a warning. Morgan was sweet, and he could bend her, mold her into a submissive who could tempt him beyond his wildest fantasies. In time, he could help her accept that part of herself that she struggled so hard to deny. She would never be truly happy until she did.
But that feeling of pride…it was a step away from ownership. No dominant had pride in a sub he wasn’t attached to, determined to make his. For years, he’d felt a distant respect for women he’d mastered who pushed past their boundaries to submit. Like a teacher to a pupil, he’d praised their progress, punished their setbacks, all while assuring them of their abilities.
With Morgan…it felt deeper, more personal. As if he had to help her. As if he had some personal stake in her blooming sexuality.
As if she’s mine. The feeling confirmed everything inside him. This wasn’t a phase, or the heat of the moment. He wanted her. Period.
“Jack.”
Morgan’s shaky voice pushed into his consciousness, bringing him back. She shivered, and this time not from desire. Damn, it was cold out here. And yet, she’d endured. No, she’d excelled, outshining anything he’d imagined her capable of in that moment.