Wicked Lovers 01 Wicked Ties (18 page)

Lord, there it was—a challenge to find the truth, one that could be both simple and ugly.

Morgan sighed. Jack was right. She had never enjoyed sex, never explored the side of her psyche that wracked her with fevered dreams. Maybe…maybe those two facts were related. Maybe it was time to assuage her curiosity. She’d indulge her wicked fantasies once, and when they’d been fulfilled, she’d be over them.

And if Jack was just using her for sex…well, why couldn’t she use him, too? A mad sex scientist in decadent bedroom experiment. He was absolutely no hardship to look at, and when he was buried inside her, the pleasure was intense enough to make her lose her mind. With his help, she could rid herself of the nagging desire to be dominated by a man when it came to sex. Then she could go back to a normal life and shake off Andrew’s slur and, someday, move into a new relationship with a clear head.

“I’m not a coward and I’m not a submissive. Mount up and I’ll prove it.”

He took her hand. “You need to find this out, once and for all.”

Whatever. By tomorrow they’d both know the truth. He’d know he was wrong. She nodded.

“We need a safe word,” Jack said.

“All right.” She didn’t pretend to misunderstand. She’d read enough to know what it meant. “If I say the word…swamp, you’ll stop everything.”

He nodded, dark hair skimming his wide forehead. “You say swamp, and we’re done. But before you use the word, be certain you’re in actual pain beyond your bearing. Mild discomfort isn’t good enough. Either physical or mental. I’m going to challenge your traditional notions about sex. I will dare you to give more of yourself than you ever have. There’s no place to hide here, Morgan. I want to be totally clear. Are you ready for that?”

No. “Ready to show you that you’re wrong about me? Sure.”

Jack fought a smile tugging at his mouth. “Good.”

With that, he stood and tore off his shirt. His rippling shoulders straightened. Expression dissolved from his face. An air of authority, impenetrable and intimidating, surrounded him. As fast as lightning, as forceful as thunder.

Morgan shivered, even as she told herself to hang tough.

“You know the rules, Morgan. I’m master. Everything I say is absolute. You do what I tell you, when I tell you, how I tell you. You don’t question. You simply do.”

He clutched the velvet ropes in his hand, his thumb caressing the soft length of one. She tried to forget the feeling of those soft ropes at her wrists and ankles, holding her down tight, keeping her in place to do with her body as he pleased. Even the thought made her gut cramp with lust.

No, no, no. It wasn’t sexy, just…weird.

A ghost of a smile graced his mouth when he caught her staring at the velvet bindings. “Very good.”

A shiver went down her spine, and she looked away. But it was too late. He’d seen her gaze fixed on the ropes.

His voice, unusually gravelly, rumbled as he demanded, “Take off your thong.”

#

Jack watched Morgan tense, hesitate, her arms still wrapped around her knees, as she struggled mentally with his command. Normally, this sort of faltering would be a punishable offense. She was new to all this, her mind still pushing back from the mastery her body begged for. For now, he’d stay patient… as much as he could. But the reality that Morgan would soon be under him, spread wide, his to do with as he pleased, was driving him to the brink of control.

Swallowing down a lump of choking lust, he regarded her with a hard expression. “When I give a command, I expect it to be followed immediately. Take off your thong now or use the safe word.”

She bit that lush lower lip. The sight made his cock throb inside his jeans. God, he wanted that mouth of hers around him, those bee-stung lips stretched wide to take him, pull him in deep, that little tongue darting over the head. Patience, he steeled himself.

“I thought… Don’t we at least kiss or something first?”

Damn, she was naïve. She really had so much to learn if she was ever going to successfully submit. And he was dying to teach her everything.

Sometimes that meant playing hardball.

“You’re questioning me,” he warned. “If I thought now was the right time for a kiss, I would have demanded one. You’re behaving like a petite fille, a little girl too scared to face her own wants. And you’re wasting my time.” Jack turned his back on her.

He took a step toward the door, then another, and began to wonder if this gamble was about to explode in his face.

“Wait! I’m scared. This is new for me,” she said softly. “I…I don’t want to like it.”

Jack turned back to her. Finally, some honesty. That was a step in the right direction.

“What do you call me in the bedroom?” he challenged.

“Sir.” The word trembled from her lips, and it seared him like a hot poker, shoving a hot slam of desire up his cock.

To reward her, he moved to her side and cupped her cheek in his palm. “You need to face yourself, cher. I’m not the enemy here. I can help you.”

“I just can’t stop thinking that—”

“You know the rules. Don’t think. Just obey.”

She sighed. “I’ve never been good at obedience, sir. Ask my mother.”

Smiling, he promised, “I’ll never ask you to clean your room or take out the trash. Obeying me will be a lot more pleasurable.”

Morgan smiled back and sent him a shaky nod, innocence and need both shining from her blue eyes.

His heart turned over in his chest. Damn, she was so beautiful, so uncertain. Something about her made him want to fuck her in every way possible and reassure her of her perfection while he was doing it. Crazy notion…

Stepping away, he blanked the soft amusement from his face and crossed his arms over his chest. “One last chance. Take off the thong, Morgan.”

She paused a mere instant before she released a deep breath and eased off the bed, exposing her lush, pale breasts, framed by the golden camisole. Her nipples still stood hard and rosy from his sucking.

Fresh lust kicked him in gut, pulsed in his balls, as she sent him a hesitant glance, then hooked her thumbs in the lacy strips over her hips. Slowly, so damn slowly he tried not to hold his breath, she began pulling the thong down, displaying more paleperfect skin dotted with tiny, faint freckles.

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.