Then she exposed the fiery hair guarding her pussy. Jack clenched his jaw. He was dying to taste her. She was already slick. Totally wet and ready. Knowing that was killing him.
Finally, her thong made it to the floor. She straightened, casting him an uncertain glance, but played brave by throwing her shoulders back and holding her head high. Jack knew from the way she squirmed that she was fighting the urge to cover her breasts with the camisole hanging from her shoulders and place a hand over her mound. But she didn’t. His respect for her courage climbed up a notch—as did his eagerness to have her completely at his mercy.
“Pick up the thong.”
Morgan stared at him, a little frown crinkling between her brows as she looked for the logic in his request. He’d break her of that habit eventually.
“Don’t make me repeat myself,” he warned.
With an expression torn between confusion and resignation, she bent and picked up the thong, then held it against her bare breasts. Her fiery hair lay tousled across her shoulders. Her red mouth, which would do Angelina Jolie proud, looked moist, lips parted. A sweet flush spread across her cheeks.
Jack sucked in a breath. Damn it, she was so beautiful. And so wasted on Brandon Ross. The thought of showering her with pleasure until she screamed was clawing at his restraint. He was getting harder by the second. He had to retain some control here. Otherwise, he couldn’t give her what she needed—what they both needed.
“Give me the thong, cher.”
Swallowing, she reached out a hesitant hand full of golden lace and silk. Fear and eagerness to please warred on her face, clutched at his heart. He had to both soothe her and push her. Balance his responses. It was the only way to coax her into really letting go.
Jack took the thong from her and bunched it in his hand. It was damp. And even six inches from his nose, he could smell her arousal on the garment. The knot of lust in his gut wrenched so tight, he could hardly catch a breath.
“You’re wet.”
Morgan said nothing, just stared with wide blue eyes the color of a Caribbean sea, dilating more with each second.
“Acknowledge my comment, Morgan. Yes or no.”
“Yes,” she breathed.
“Yes, what?” he prompted.
“Yes…sir.”
It didn’t roll off her tongue yet, but it would. He’d keep at her until it did. Softly and harshly. Alternating, keeping her off balance. Keeping her aroused and uncertain. It would be his pleasure.
“Good. I like that you’re wet. I plan to keep you that way all night.”
She absorbed his words, tensing slightly. Her eyes dilated further. Her areolas puckered tight around the nubs of her nipples. She slicked her tongue over her full bottom lip. His cock jerked in impatience.
“Jack—”
“You don’t call me that in the bedroom. If I have to remind you again, I’ll paddle your pretty ass.”
A mutinous frown furrowed her brow. Her jaw tensed. She wanted to snap some acid comment back at him. Instead, she swallowed it.
He kept his smile to himself. She was learning. Slowly, but surely…
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. Take the camisole off.”
Morgan complied almost without hesitation. Almost. Not perfection, but progress.
The gentle chastisement that rose to his mouth died as she exposed the lean line of her torso, a taut belly, graceful shoulders, the full curve of her breasts. Jack hadn’t thought it possible, but his cock stiffened with a fresh surge of blood.
“Hand it to me,” he demanded.
Again, a bare pause before she complied. Satisfied for now, he tossed the garments in the chair. When he turned back to Morgan, he saw her tongue swipe across her pillowy mouth again.
Damn it, the woman tested his patience and self-control. Now, this first time under his domination, he had to take total charge of Morgan. There could be no vacillation. He could show no weakness, no lack of control, only a reassurance that brooked no refusal.
Asserting his dominance was key to persuading her to listen to her body. It was the only way he could take her from that bastard Brandon. Then, after a hard fuck, after her complete surrender, after she admitted she needed a dominant man and left her backstabbing fiancé, he’d be satisfied.
“On your knees, cher.”
Her gaze flew to his, her blue eyes filled with an interesting mixture of panic and lust. She was processing his request, trying to discern what he wanted…but she knew.
Just as he knew she might use the safe word rather than take him in her mouth. The thought chafed him. He wanted— needed—to feel her tongue caressing his cock, her lips stretching wide to take him. To see her bowing, submissive, accepting, aroused.
“Sir?”
“I didn’t give you permission to speak. Either follow the directions or use the safe word.”
A pinched mouth and the downward slant of fire-red brows told him without words that she was rebellious and frustrated. But her eyes, still sharp with desire, told him she was torn.
That expression encompassed everything he loved about looking at her, being with her. Her dichotomy—an innocent’s experience with a wanton’s needs—drove him to dangerous lust. A consuming desire he couldn’t remember ever feeling before. This went beyond the psychological high of controlling, beyond the pure physical ease of a woman’s body. In this moment, he wanted to own her, inside and out, rule her body and seize her soul.
Suddenly, Jack wondered if he’d be able to fuck Morgan enough to get her out of his system before he let her go.
Finally, she cast her gaze down—and dropped slowly to her knees.
She was so close, Jack could feel her exhalations on his jeans-covered cock. It took every ounce of self-control not to rip at his pants and toss them away, so he could feel her breath, her mouth, on him. Lust throbbed even harder through his erection at the thought.
“Better. As a reward, you may speak. What is it, Morgan?”
“I don’t know much about oral sex.”
“How do you know that’s what I want?”
“I assumed. If that is what you want, I think you should know, the one time I did it, he didn’t…”
“Come in your mouth?”
A fresh flush stole up her cheeks. “No.”
The information blasted Jack in the gut like a prize fighter’s punch. So even straightlaced Brandon hadn’t availed himself of this beauty’s sin-inspiring mouth. He knew from this morning’s encounter against the door that the idea excited her. He wanted Morgan to experience acts that aroused her. But the notion of being the first man to fill her tongue with his seed made his balls draw up even tighter, the lust crashing through him even more urgent. It was primitive and possessive and illogical, but something in him responded violently to the knowledge that no other man had ever taken her in such a way.
A glance down told him that Morgan wasn’t repulsed by his demand, but uncertain. Her anxiety made her lapis eyes stand out in her pale face. She chewed her bottom lip nervously.
“My responsibility in dominating is not just to order you around. It’s to pleasure you. To guide you. It starts with trust. You must place yours in me, cher. I will see you through, provide whatever you need. Do you understand?”
Morgan’s gaze left his face, traveled down his torso, then rested on the insistent erection pushing against his jeans, right in front of her face. Her tongue peeked out to smooth over her bottom lip again.
Jack drew in a sharp breath, reeling back the thoughts that, soon, her pretty pink tongue could be laving the head of his cock. Lust twisted his gut, turning it into unbreakable knots of need. Merde! He was testing her as much as he was torturing himself.
“Yes…sir.”
He barely managed to mumble a reply before he unsnapped his jeans and eased down the zipper. His cock sprang free, into his hand. He slowly stroked the length of it for her gaze. Morgan zeroed in on his hard flesh, her expression uncertain and hot. She wanted to touch him; her face, like a kid with her face pressed against a candy store window, told him that. Fisting his cock, he waited, watching her greedy eyes follow his hand.
When a drop of moisture beaded on the head of his cock and she licked her lips at the sight, Jack eased his free hand around her head, anchoring it under her hair. The soft strands fell over his fingers like silk as he cupped her nape. He thumbed the soft skin at the side of her jaw and slowly urged her forward.
“Suck me, Morgan. Take me deep.”
Closer, closer, her mouth came to his cock. Her gaze flew up to his, connecting, locking with his own as she edged in. Jack held his breath. God, he couldn’t look away from her, couldn’t stop watching those sensual red lips part to take him inside. Felt a fucking fever rage through him as he imagined how hot and silky her mouth would be.
Finally, she enveloped the swollen head, still seeping moisture. Her gaze never wavered as her lips closed around him and her tongue swept across his sensitive underside, sending a blinding jolt of pleasure screaming up his spine. He gritted his teeth to capture the moan threatening to spill.
She stilled, pulled back a fraction. He allowed it, but tightened his hand at the back of her neck in warning. That pretty pink tongue laved the head of his cock, then wet her soft lips again. He watched it all, scorched by the sight, by her hot gaze drilling into him, innocence and wonder and the desire to experience everything finally overshadowing her fear and doubt.
At the sight, it took every bit of Jack’s control not to start pumping wildly into her mouth. He drew in a sharp breath.
“Deeper, cher. All the way to your throat.”
She nodded, her head bobbing, her tongue stroking the blood-engorged tip of his cock. Morgan opened wider, leaned in. The hot, slick heaven of her mouth enclosed half his length, cradled by her exploring tongue. He hissed. She shook her head, going down, trying to take more.
The feel of her all around him, the sight of her trying to fill her mouth with his flesh, combined to push him dangerously close to the edge. His fingers again tightened at her neck as he pushed another inch of his cock into the sweet depths of her mouth.
Morgan pulled back a fraction, then slid her lips even farther down his length—nearly to the back of her throat. She punctuated the motion with a moan. The sound vibrated inside him. Pleasure streamed up his dick, wrapped around his balls like a vise. It doubled when she raised her hand to his dangling testicles and cupped them with gentle fingers.
Damn, she had good instincts.
He tensed, again fighting the urge to unleash his lust, to fuck her mouth in a mindless pursuit of pleasure, let go of the come boiling in his scrotum. Her slow exploration was killing him, breaking him down. His toes curled against the hardwood floor. How the hell could he stay in control with those swollen lips and tight mouth slowly sucking out his sanity?
The head of his cock finally bumped the back of her throat, adding a new dimension to his pleasure. Unable to stop himself, he closed his eyes and groaned, an admission of his need.
“That’s it, cher. That’s right. Suck me deep.”
Opening his eyes again, Jack found Morgan bowed over his cock, eyes closed. She was damn near reverent, the way she held him, took him so far inside. Then she eased back with a leisurely swipe of her tongue. Slow. So damn slow, he’d lose his mind, his control, before she fastened her mouth around his length again.
And he was leaking, fluids escaping his body in a desperate rush to orgasm. Every muscle in his body tense now, trembling, he shoved both hands into her hair and demanded more.
“Faster. Put that sweet tongue on me. There you go…”
With his prompting, Morgan established a more rapid rhythm, but still slow enough that he swore he could feel every groove and bump on her tongue. Still slow enough to completely rob him of his ability to think, to remember his own damn name.
Not fucking her mouth was no longer an option. His hands fisted in her hair. He thrust past her wide, sleek lips, bumping the back of her throat each time.
“Swallow,” he demanded, voice broken. “When I’m at the back of your throat, swallow on me.”
Amazingly, she did. Every time he sank deep. Perfect rhythm, as if she was a fucking pro. Nothing had ever felt this amazing.
Hell, the woman was going to shatter him with this orgasm.
Sweat broke out at his temples, across his back, as he tried to resist the growing pressure in his balls. He couldn’t deny the pleasure for long. The wave built into a dark, sharp ache, demanding he give in. He held it back, gritting his teeth every time her candy tongue danced over the flared purple head, every time her flushed cheeks hollowed as she sucked him in.
Jack wanted to stop the roaring rush toward the cliff, live in this honey-thick throb a bit longer. He withdrew from her mouth, fighting to get a breath without her scent on it, needing a moment that wasn’t totally bombarded with the silk of her tongue bathing his cock.
When he left her mouth with a soft pop, she whimpered. Licked her lips. Turned a hot gaze up to him that pleaded and dared.
“Please, sir…” She fixed her hungry stare on his cock, mouth open wide.