Wait for Morning (Sniper 1 Security #1) (25 page)

Surprisingly, she still didn’t shy away
from him.

Maybe it was years’ worth of hormones
coalescing, churning into a vibrant, heated jumble that burned her from the inside
out. Or possibly just the sexy, arousing way that he looked at her, touched
her, spoke to her.

“Are you wet for me, Marissa?” Trace asked
as he slid his hands around her hips, over her thighs, and between her legs. He
didn’t move higher, merely let his work-roughened palms scrape deliciously over
the delicate skin on the insides of her thighs.

“Yes,” she said, trying to stay with the
moment, to prove to him that she was into this as much as, if not more
than
he was.

The shy, guarded side of her told her not
to speak, not to beg for more. But the part of her that craved Trace Kogan took
the lead, making her want things she didn’t even know she could want.

“Good,” he said, seemingly satisfied with
her response.

His fingers moved higher, slipping
underneath the elastic edge of her panties right near the heart of her. There
was no hesitation on his part, but she got the feeling he was going slow to
offer her the opportunity to change her mind.

She didn’t intend to change it. Not when
she was in the one place she’d dreamed about for so long. The power of Trace’s
impressive body surrounding her, the intoxicating scent of him—a combination of
man and a light, spicy hint of cologne—penetrating her senses. It was
everything she’d imagined it would be and then some.

“Nice and wet,” Trace grumbled against her
ear. “Just how I want you.”

A violent tremor shook her entire body,
the impact of his words making the desire intensify. She loved the raspy sound
of his voice, the way he told her what he was doing as he was doing it. She
needed that connection, the piece that proved he was right there with her,
holding her as she hovered precariously on the brink of a passion unlike
anything she’d ever experienced.

When his finger slid between her folds,
Marissa forgot how to breathe. And when he dipped inside of her, she wondered
whether her heart would explode.

Oh,
shit. Oh, shit.
It was too good. Too much but not
enough all at the same time.

Wanting more, Marissa thrust her hips
forward, trying to force him deeper. The quick swat on her ass made her yelp.

“Don’t move,” Trace growled. “You’re mine
for the night, Marissa. That’s the deal. I get to control your pleasure, not
you. I get to make you squirm and hold you back at the same time. Understand?”

That’s
the deal.

The words reverberated in her skull. At
this point, she’d be willing to make a deal with the devil just as long as
Trace would keep touching her.

Marissa nodded although her body was in
total disagreement, proving it when her hips shifted again. Another stinging
slap on her butt had her reveling in the fire that ignited in her veins.

God, had she ever been hotter than she was
right then?

“So fucking pretty,” Trace whispered. “In
a minute, I’m going to press my lips right here.” Trace punctuated his statement
with his fingertip as it gently rubbed her clit. “I’m going to thrust my tongue
in here,” he added as he slid his finger lower, delving into her entrance once
more.

She wanted him to do those things now. Why
wait? Why cause any unnecessary misery as she longed for the pleasure?

His finger went deeper, and Marissa
realized there was no misery, just unadulterated pleasure to coincide with the
desperate, eager wanting that had built to a crescendo.

“Trace,” she said, his name a plea on her
lips. “Oh, God.”

He was thrusting one finger inside,
retreating and then going deeper, faster. She was close. So close. For some
reason, she wasn’t sure whether she was supposed to come or if he wanted her to
hold off, but suddenly the decision wasn’t her own as her body soared.

“That’s it, baby. Come for me.”

Holy…
Oh,
God
.

Marissa’s vision went hazy as the pleasure
consumed her, an orgasm gripping her, pulling her under and holding her within
its grasp until she wasn’t sure she could keep her knees locked beneath her.

“So beautiful.” Trace’s dark, rich tone
washed over her, pulling her back from the exquisite high that he’d pushed her
toward.

Her breaths came in ragged pants. Her arms
felt heavy, unable to hold her up where she was propped on the side of the bed.

“I’m going to watch you come so many times
you’ll be begging for me to stop,” he warned her.

“Never,” she breathed. She would never
want him to stop.

Marissa wasn’t a virgin, and she wasn’t
inexperienced, but what had just happened was… It was addicting, and she was
already gearing up for more.

Responsive.

It was another word Trace would now use to
describe Marissa. The way she reacted to the stinging slaps he placed on her
ass was hotter than fucking hell. He hadn’t even thought about it the first
time he’d spanked her. It was a normal reaction, one that she apparently
enjoyed.

That drove his need higher as he watched
Marissa, manipulating her slippery folds while she rode his finger. And to
think this was only the beginning. At this point, he was ready to go all night,
to see how many times he could make her come.

Pulling his finger from the depths of her
pussy, Trace moved his hands up her body, stopping near her mouth. “Suck my
finger,” he instructed. It was truthfully a test, another one to see what her
reaction would be.

A lingering groan escaped his chest when
Marissa leaned forward and sucked his finger into her mouth, her tongue
swirling around the digit as she licked it clean.

Fuck, that
was hot.

“Ah, hell,” he growled, retrieving his finger
from between her lips as he stepped back. “Don’t move,” he added before she had
a chance to do just that.

Marissa remained still, her head hanging
between her shoulders as she kept her palms flat on the bed, her legs spread
enticingly as she bent over in front of him. Needing to get her naked, just
because the thought of her completely on display for him made him crazy, Trace
took the edges of her panties in his hands and pulled, enjoying the sound of
delicate lace tearing away from her body.

A delicious gasp escaped her lips as she
pushed her ass back, obviously seeking him out.

“Impatient, are you?” he asked with a
chuckle.

“Yes,” she said quickly.

He liked that about her. She didn’t seem
worried about responding to him, and truthfully, he wanted her to answer him.
He wanted her fully engaged in their lovemaking because that was the only way
this would work. Trace wanted Marissa like an addict wanted his next fix, and
knowing she was right there with him was the only thing that would satisfy him.

Running his palms over her ass, he admired
the subtle pink handprint on the right side. “Very pretty.” He didn’t mean for
the words to come out, but he didn’t care about taking them back once they had.
“Crawl onto the bed. I want you right in the middle.”

Trace watched for any hesitation, but
there seemed to be none. Maybe this was what Marissa needed to take her mind
off everything. And though he’d been tempted to argue with her request for him
to eradicate the pressing thoughts weighing heavily on her mind, because he
preferred not to be used, Trace had kept his mouth shut. He was more than happy
to distract her for the time being, but he could guarantee her it wouldn’t be
the only time.

Then again, if he had any doubts that
she’d retreat after this, he wouldn’t be moving forward.

Trace had been with many women in his
lifetime. Enjoying to the fullest the pleasure to be found in a woman’s body,
in her satisfaction. But never had he been totally consumed by a woman.

Everything about Marissa appealed to him.
From the golden fall of her silky hair around her face to the crystal-blue of
her eyes, her perfect pale pink lips, and a body to make a man forget his own
name. But her intelligence and determination were what drew him to her
ultimately. She was stronger than most women. Then again, she hadn’t had much
choice up to this point. What would’ve broken other women, she had endured with
her head up, her focus always forward.

Even if he detected a vulnerability down
deep, he knew Marissa was made of some pretty tough stuff. And he wouldn’t lie,
he’d been involved in sexual encounters where the woman he was with was looking
for him to break her, to dominate her to the point of submission. Trace didn’t
believe Marissa wanted to submit, which made his dominating side roar to the
surface. But it also allowed him more freedom. Marissa didn’t seem to have any
expectations from him other than mind-blowing pleasure.

That he could guarantee her.

Kneeling on the bed behind her, Trace
settled his knees between her calves and inched closer until he was on all
fours above her, his arms by hers, his chest pressed against her back.

Urging her hair to slide over her
shoulders and leave her back bare, Trace then placed a gentle kiss to the back
of her neck. Her head lowered slightly, giving him better access, and that’s
when he saw it.

A tattoo. Two lines of small, black script
across her upper back that read “Hope is the thing with feathers that perches
in the soul and sings the tune without the words and never stops at all.” He
recognized that quote from Emily Dickinson because it was something Marissa had
always found comfort in.

Rather than ask her when she’d gotten it,
Trace proceeded to explore her with his mouth, tasting her skin as he moved
lower, dragging a trail of kisses down the center of her spine until he reached
her lower back, letting his tongue dart into the crease of her ass.

Marissa shuddered, her body trembling.
Trace performed the same action in the opposite direction, moving back up her
spine to her neck. Holding himself above her with one hand, he reached the
other beneath her, cupping her right breast in his palm and squeezing gently.

“I want to put my mouth here,” he told her,
gently tweaking her nipple. “Do you want that, Marissa?”

“Yes. Everywhere,” she mumbled.

“What’s that?”

“I want your mouth everywhere.”

That was one request he fully intended to
fulfill.

“Turn over for me,” he told her, not
moving from his position. It forced her to collapse beneath him and roll over.
He moved just enough so that she could shift her legs, which left him kneeling
between her spread thighs, his hands pressed into the mattress on each side of
her head.

He dared a glance down to her mouth and
then decided he needed to taste her lips. Lowering himself to one forearm, he
pushed his hand beneath her head, cradling the back as he eased closer, his
lips touching hers tentatively. When her lips parted, her tongue darting out to
taste him, he held himself in check.

A soft, urgent moan escaped her when he
didn’t immediately relent by opening his mouth. Instead, he let her lick his
lips while her hands came up to rest on his cheeks. Her soft, cool fingers slid
down his jaw, then back up, the gentle scrape of her fingers against his
stubble audible in the quiet of the room.

He decided right then that he loved when
she touched him.

“Why have we waited so long for this?” she
asked, pulling her mouth back and looking into his eyes.

Trace couldn’t answer that. He’d wanted to
give in to this desire for longer than he could remember, but he’d attempted to
be the gentleman, the protector. He wasn’t an easy man to deal with, he knew
that. Trace wasn’t perfect. In fact, he had more flaws than most, but he knew when
it came to what he wanted from Marissa, it would consume them both, and he
hadn’t been so sure they could survive the aftermath.

He still wasn’t sure they could. But he
was past the point of being able to contain the need. She was temptation and freedom
all wrapped up in a beautiful, delicate package. He needed her, but at the same
time, he feared her. As much as he would want from her, he knew she’d be the
same, wanting so much in return. He had plenty to give, but he simply wasn’t
sure how to go about doing that.

Trace had never been in love with a woman,
and he knew without a doubt that Marissa would need love. Pure, untainted love.
Could he do it? He wasn’t certain. But the more time that passed, Trace knew
that if anyone would ever weave their way into his heart, it would be her.
Hell, he was pretty sure she already had.

“I don’t know,” he finally answered,
staring deep into the crystal blue that peered up at him with so much hope, so
much desire he was tempted to slide deep inside her body and hold her to him so
that they would be one. Then he’d never let her go once that happened.

But he didn’t.

He had dreamed about pleasuring her, and
this was his opportunity. He was going to treat it as though it might be his
last. It was how he handled everything in his life. There were no guarantees of
tomorrow; he knew that much. His life had been entwined with danger and
sometimes unnecessary risk. Trace tried never to take anything for granted, and
he damn sure wasn’t about to now.

Shifting his legs, he forced Marissa to
turn until they were lying on the bed correctly, her head near the headboard.

“Put your hands above your head,” he
stated. He tried to keep his tone light, but it wasn’t a request. The gleam in
her eyes and the gentle smirk that tilted the edge of her mouth told him she
knew that.

Without questioning him, she lifted her
arms above her head, never looking away from him. He could feel the rise and
fall of her chest as her excitement built, and he wasn’t sure he could make her
wait too long.

“Don’t move,” he ordered. “I love seeing
you just like that.”

Considering he didn’t have women over to
his house, Trace hadn’t actually planned for this moment. But tying Marissa to
his bed, watching as she was helpless beneath him, was something he couldn’t
resist. Glancing around, Trace tried to find something he could use to tie her
to his bed, something to hold her in place so he could pleasure her until she
was begging him to make her come. His gaze landed on the alarm clock on the
nightstand, then traveled over the cord that led to the wall.

That would certainly do.

Reaching forward, he yanked on the cord
until he felt it disengage from the wall, the numbers on the clock going dark.
Pulling the cord from behind the bed, he once again peered down at Marissa,
pushing up so that he was kneeling. She was watching him, yet there wasn’t an
ounce of fear in her eyes, and she actually seemed more interested in looking
at his body than in what he was doing. The heat in her gaze as she looked at
him was a boost to his ego, something he’d never cared about before. But to
know that she appreciated what she saw loosened a knot inside of him, one he
hadn’t even known existed.

Desperate to get his mouth back on her,
Trace climbed off the bed, coming to stand near the headboard, still holding
the cord in his hand. Quickly, he restrained her, tying the cord loosely around
each of her wrists and then to the rails in the headboard.

Marissa smiled up at him, so sexy and so
damn sweet. She tried to pull on her restraints, but they held enough to keep
her where he wanted her for the time being.

As he stood back, admiring his handiwork,
he let his gaze drift slowly over her, offering the same appreciation he’d seen
in her eyes earlier. She seemed surprisingly open to him looking at her — eye
fucking as she’d referred to it before. And maybe that was what he was doing,
because he couldn’t seem to get enough of her. Just looking at her made his
cock pulse painfully.

Something he was still ignoring.

He made his way down to the end of the
bed, still watching, admiring. He put his hands on each of her feet, kneading
the arches gently with his thumbs until she sighed. Working his way up, he eased
onto the mattress between her legs as he explored higher with his fingertips,
gently tracing up her shin, then to her knee, making sure his touch remained
light.

In the dim glow from the lamp on the
bedside table, he could see the goose bumps rise on her skin, her chest
continuing to rise and fall regularly, her breath hissing in and out of her
lungs, proof that even his gentlest of touches affected her.

He settled on his knees between her legs,
stopping when he reached her thighs. He transferred his attention from her
face, down over the generous swell of her breasts, then down her slender torso
until he reached the juncture between her thighs.

“Bare,” he said, his voice laced with
gravel as he kept a firm grasp on his control. “I like you bare.”

Marissa didn’t say anything, but her
breath hitched when he trailed the backs of his fingers over her smooth,
hairless mound. Teasing her, he went lower, sliding one knuckle between her
slick folds, grazing her clit lightly before retreating.

“You like when I tease your clit?” he
asked, meeting her gaze once more.

“Yes,” she whispered, her eyes locked on
his.

“What about when I lick your clit? Will
you like that?”

Marissa nodded, and he got the impression
she wasn’t able to speak because her breaths had increased, her body tensing
beautifully as though she were trying to will his mouth down to her pussy.

He grinned sheepishly at her as he bent
over, his back bowing as he let his breath fan across the sensitive skin. He
darted his tongue out and let it slide quickly over her clit before he sat back
up. “Like that?”

Marissa nodded, a little more
enthusiastically than before.

“I’m not going to continue until you say
it,” he informed her.

“Yes,” she said on a breathless moan.

“Yes what?”