What if she gave him free rein? What would it be like to let go and give herself to someone with his mastery, just this once?She exhaled on a ragged sigh. Arousal flared like a forest fire under a harsh wind, burning her from the inside out. About to rage out of control.Moisture threatened to trickle down her legs. She licked her dry lips, but when his gaze followed the motion, it only made her temperature spike hotter.“You going to put that pretty pink tongue on me, cher? While I watched you sleep, I pictured you on your knees, my cock in your luscious little mouth.”Morgan knew next to nothing about oral sex from personal experience. Reading and talking about it to prepare for her show didn’t make up for that fact. At this moment, with a mountain of man like Jack in front of her, pressed against her, that seemed irrelevant. Jack inspired an urge to sample everything wicked, including his cock.“Ah, I think you like the idea,” he murmured, breath caressing her tingling lips. “Thos
Suddenly, he bent, lifted her by her hips and wedged her body between his and the door. “Put your legs around my waist.”She hesitated. Could people really have sex standing up? She’d never tried anything more exotic than woman on top.“Do it.” His voice was edged with steel.Without another pause, Morgan lifted both of her legs and folded them around his hips. Moments later, he rewarded her with the feel of his cock probing at her entrance, all thick and ready. Breath held, she clung to his shoulders, on the razor’s edge, waiting.He eased his tip inside, and even that hard bit of him felt like heaven, like the magic elixir to cure the ache currently roasting her alive.“Say it again,” he demanded, voice strained. “Tell me what you want.”Morgan never considered holding back. “Fuck me. Now!”With that, he pushed her hips down as he thrust up. Tissues unused to such invasion protested at first, unable to accommodate his girth. She cried out.“Relax,” he ground out. “Open to me, cher.”
On screen, she clawed at his back. He could clearly hear her say, “Yes, more! So good!” She panted once, twice, before her lips feverishly brushed his neck. “Never better.”Jack shivered in remembrance. Yes, it had been good. Damn good. Spec-fucking-tacular, if he was honest. Damn it, he had no need to fuck her again. Now that he had proof they’d done the deed, this part of his revenge was complete. She’d served her purpose. And there was no such thing as a heart’s mate.“Jack!” He watched Morgan scream his name, bounce on him, taking pleasure, giving it.Here in his chair, with his gaze fixed on her flushing body, his balls tightened, broiling with the need to come again. He gritted his teeth against the urge to stroke his cock through his jeans.But he could also see her holding something back, keeping some part of her separate from him, removed from his touch. Something he hadn’t picked up on with her tight, wet walls closing around his cock and his heartbeat drumming in his ears.
The thoughts brought on fresh desire. Thick, bubbling desire, swirling inside her to form an insistent throb. Her clit ached, and she could not believe how wet she was, how swollen her folds felt. She’d never been ruled by her hormones. Why now?Morgan thought about self-pleasuring again, but refrained. She didn’t want to be caught again. The mortification had nearly killed her once, but twice in one day… She grimaced. Still, she might have risked it if she had believed it would douse the fire raging inside her.But the fire was one she feared only Jack could put out.A knock at the cottage’s front door startled Morgan. She whirled to the clock on the little cypress bedside table. Nearly four thirty in the afternoon.Jack tore open the door from his hiding place and streaked down the hall. On his way past, he cast a heated glance into the bedroom, right at her, a glance that said he remembered every kiss, every touch between them—and that as far as he was concerned, they weren’t done.
Morgan was pretty sure she’d never looked sexier in her life. Knowing that Jack could incite her to massive, broiling orgasms was surely making her feel hyperaware of herself as a woman. Imagining his reaction to this…outfit was arousing the hell out of her.Her imagination needed to take a vacation.But it was more than the orgasms, as much as she hated to admit it. With Jack, she’d felt a dizzying freedom unlike anything she’d ever known with a lover. A freedom to want whatever she desired. And utter acceptance of her longings. Despite her head telling her that her needs were wrong, her body ached. She could didn’t even fully comprehend what she craved, but Jack knew. Knowledge sizzled in his eyes, in the things he said to her. Jack could give her everything she’d ever fantasized about. All of that coupled with the feeling of security she had here with him, as if her stalker was a million miles away, encouraged her to explore her dark side with her infuriating, enigmatic protector.
Jack jolted awake. Damn it! So close this time. So close…but he still couldn’t see her face.Stirring from a fitful sleep on the sofa, Jack opened his eyes and glanced at his watch. Just after midnight. Now what?He laid back on the couch, breathing hard, gritting his teeth against a steel-inspired erection that always followed the dream. The fucking thing tormented him more frequently these days— nearly every night for the past two weeks. Why?Certainly his grandfather and the old man’s crazy theories about soul mates and dreaming of destined lovers was all bullshit. It had to be. If there was any such thing as a woman destined to be his, he wouldn’t torture himself with a dream. He’d simply find her and claim her. And prove she was just another woman he could walk away from. End of story.Jack was perfectly happy with that explanation except…why did the woman in his dream have the same hair as Morgan if the dream was irrelevant? Why did Morgan feel like more than the means to his re
Morgan ignored the heat wave that flowed in with his words—and the sight of his thick erection pushing insistently at his jeans. She focused on her anger instead. “Maybe being around too many female doormats had made you assume all of us live to roll over and spread our legs for you on command.”“You want to submit because you’re strong, because when you’re fucking, you don’t want responsibility. You want a man who can understand you and give you what you need—all without a word.”“Is that the kinky version of Dr. Phil?”“Watch that mouth, cher. I own a ball gag. I know how to use it,” he growled.At his gravelly threat, Morgan’s mouth snapped shut. Fury and desire both spiked inside her, threatening to boil up and up until it all exploded.“I listened to you. I know you’ve been looking for a man strong enough to force your surrender in the bedroom. You’ve never explored your dark side, cher. I know you’ll respond perfectly to what I want. I sense it in you, see it in you.”Male confi
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 tou