Wicked Lovers 01 Wicked Ties (40 page)

Jack felt Morgan’s eyes on him, sharper than before, but he didn’t raise his gaze to her, not yet. He didn’t want to give anything away, and as fucking aroused as he was now… no telling what she’d read in his expression. Instead, he fished into the bag at his feet again and withdrew two velvet cords and set them on the hardwood floor between them.

Let her wonder.

Then…he unwrapped the thick green towel from her body, unveiling her lush curves—and sucked in a harsh breath of need. He left her completely bare, sunlight shafting giant golden rays through the room, making her fiery hair the color of a living flame and illuminating the alabaster skin of her shoulders, translucent breasts, and soft belly. And her ripe pink nipples.

She didn’t flinch, didn’t protest, being suddenly naked. The only reaction he saw was a adorable rosy flush spreading across the pale cream of her skin. So damn beautiful, naked and submissive and surprisingly self-assured. The sight of her made his cock swell more, jerk. He felt strangled by his jeans, by his need for her touch…

“Sir, where did that bag come from?”

And all the equipment. That’s what she wanted to know. He smiled. She shouldn’t be asking, but he’d indulge her this once.

“When I realized you were gone last night, I threw together a few things be to make sure that, when I found you, you couldn’t get away again.”

“Oh.” Her voice fluttered.

Hell, he could hear the arousal in her voice. That quivering note, ripe with curiosity, yet a breath away from a needy whimper, just about turned him inside out.

Jack swallowed against a harsh blast of lust. “Are you ready for whatever I give you?”

She met his gaze squarely. “Yes, sir.”

Not testing her wasn’t an option. He dug into his bag again and produced a pair of padlocks. With them, he attached her wrists to the cuffs around her thighs. The locks clicked into place, loud in the room so silent, except the harsh clip of her breathing and the pounding of his heart in his ears.

He stood, intentionally crowding her and forcing her gaze to his. “You’re ready for everything I’m going to give you?”

“Yes, sir.”

So far so good…but did she mean it? He found a set of ankle cuffs in his bag. The super soft black leather whispered over his fingers, thrilling him with the idea they’d soon be wrapped around her even softer skin, keeping her in place for

anything…everything he wanted. He lifted the velvet cords from the floor and tied each on the O ring at the front of the cuffs that now hugged her trim ankles.

“Be very sure,” he demanded.

Morgan hesitated, her soft gaze pointed down, seeking his. Yes, she wanted to know what was different, what awaited her. But she didn’t ask, just stared.

“I’m sure,” she whispered. And the confidence on her face told him she meant it. “Sir.”

“You’re amazing, cher.”

The sight of those blue eyes, filled with lust and trust was a kick to his self-control. It was a fucking wonder he didn’t tear off his clothes and ram himself inside her sweet body in two seconds or less.

Instead, Jack urged her legs farther apart. Morgan complied without a word, then wrapped the cord attached to her cuffs around the base of the bed’s solid cherry posts, down low. He secured them tight.

She wasn’t going anywhere now. And she looked gorgeous, such fairness outlined in black leather, the red velvet cords serving to anchor her in place and keep her legs deliciously spread. He’d never seen anything so fucking sexy.

Jack stood, fighting off a shiver of desire searing him and threatening to strip his control.

Eager—hell, shaking—with the need to touch her, Jack smoothed his palms down her sides, dipping in with the slight curve of her waist, as he dusted kisses down Morgan’s skin. She swallowed a gasp as his touch drifted down the flare of her hips and his mouth found a sensitive spot where hip and thigh met.

Was there anything more perfect than her offering of such fair skin, more tempting than palming the firm length of her legs, kneeling so close to the heaven of her pussy? Not in his mind. This…Morgan and everything she offered was everything he’d looked for.

He prayed to hell today proved they both had what it took to fulfill one another, be the lover the other needed.

Reaching around, he trailed his fingers down the slope of her buttocks, gripped the back of her thighs. Was she soft everywhere? Yeah, and it just tore him up. He, who’d killed in battle, taken a bullet, sustained scars from more than one knife fight, learned to tell his enemy to fuck off in eight languages, touched Morgan and her seemingly untouched skin. He glided his way down clear to her ankles, his mouth following the same hot path until she was clenching her thighs, until her legs tensed beneath his hands and mouth.

“Are you wet?” he asked.

“Yes,” she gasped, watching his every move with wide eyes. Not stunned or shocked. Aroused. Dilated. Hungry. “Morgan?” he growled in warning.

“Yes, I’m wet, sir.”

“Better,” he said, nibbling at the creamy flesh of her inner thigh before gliding his tongue up her hip.

The sound of her moan resonated in his ears. Damn, how the hell was he going to last, without rising to his feet, tearing off his pants and taking what they both needed?

With gentle tugs on all her bindings, Jack assured himself they were secure. Just one more…

Reaching to his bag again, he pulled out a thick red silk scarf. Perfect, he thought, folding the crimson scrap of cloth and settling it over her eyes. Morgan could touch and taste and hear— and through those senses experience everything she needed. But she could not move or see, which allowed him the control he wanted and might need…just in case.

For a mere instant, Morgan tensed. But she forced herself to exhale, to relax. Proud of her calm, dazzled by her show of absolute trust, he kissed her mouth lightly, savoring the flavor of her hot tension and bee-stung berry lips.

Fists clenched, he eased back and stepped past her. A deep breath, a little prayer. Then he forced himself to uncurl his fingers, cross the room and open the hotel room door.

Morgan felt Jack walk past her. Behind her, the door opened. A draft of February air breezed a chill across her skin. Then footsteps.

She tamped down her panic. He wasn’t going anywhere. He couldn’t be. The raw tenderness in his eyes and the unrelenting grip of his hands on her convinced Morgan of that. So what the hell was he up to?

He cupped his hand around her shoulder and settled against her, whispering in her ear, “The safe word is still swamp.”

Even blindfolded, his tension couldn’t have been clearer if he drew her a picture. “Okay, but I won’t need it.”

Jack exhaled. Warm breath on her cheek, then the soft skate of his fingertips down the slope of her breast, followed by the hard pull of his mouth on her nipple.

Instantly, a path of fire zinged between her breasts and her clit. Moisture rushed between her folds. The pleasure was so bright, Morgan even felt a curious warmth at her back. She couldn’t squeeze her legs together for relief, since Jack had tied them so far apart. With her wrists attached to her thighs, she couldn’t raise her arms to clasp him closer when he shifted to the other breast, making the second nipple as hard as the first. A moan slipped free from her throat.

Caressing a hand down her belly, Jack rewarded her with a soft touch. His fingers made teasing circles across her thighs. His knuckles swept over the fringe of her pubic hair.

His hand shook.

Morgan held her breath, waiting, wondering… What was going on?

Slowly, he knelt between her feet. His hot breath hit her right— Oh, yes!—there as he parted her slick flesh with his thumbs and exposed her every secret, stripping her bare of uncertainty and inhibitions, ripping out any concept of wrong or taboo, and replacing it with need. Morgan simply felt his eyes devouring her most secret flesh, hungry, singleminded.

Blood rushed through her body. A rush of tingles scraping across her skin made her feel so totally alive. Cool air against her breasts contrasted with a blast of heat at her back…and the rasp of Jack’s hot tongue dragging across her clit.

Her head fell back on a gasp.

“That’s it,” he murmured. He laved her again. “Cream for me.”

He followed the gentle nibble with a firm swipe of his thumb right there, where she needed it. Once, twice, punctuated by his seeking tongue again. And again. Then his mouth covered her, his tongue lashing her clit, toying, stroking, inflaming.

The rise of pleasure was sharp, beyond fighting—even if she’d wanted to. But resisting was the last thing on her mind. Thick desire stormed her…along with a bittersweet curl of emotion. How was she going to do without Jack after he’d finished with her?

Shoving the thought aside, Morgan focused on the here and now. Desire. She dug her fingernails into her thighs. In the face of her spiraling need, a brief sting was the only sensation she could spare. Everything else was focused on Jack and his mouth. And when he worked a pair of fingers into her, she gasped, hanging on the edge by a thread.

“You can’t come yet, Morgan.”

She whimpered. “Please…”

“Tell me again, do you want everything I can give you?” “Yes! Yes, sir. Now.”

A hesitation, brief, bare. Then Jack sucked her clit into his mouth. An ache bit into her belly with unmerciful ruthlessness and pushed her closer to the abyss of pleasure. She whimpered as the hot swell of need rushed up on her, pushing her close, so close to the edges of her restraint. Every muscle in her body tensed under the lash of Jack’s lazy, insistent tongue.

“Good,” he murmured against her wet, swollen sex. “Then come for us.”

“Us?”

Shock pinged through her. Had she heard him correctly?

As the word fell out of her mouth, the hot press of a huge naked chest enveloped her back. And Jack’s still knelt between her feet, her clit captive of the slow swipes of his tongue, two of his fingers pressed deep inside her.

From behind her, a pair of broad hands reached, cupping her breasts, squeezing her nipples in a tight grip just short of pain.

The stranger dropped a tentative kiss just behind her ear, as if testing his welcome. “Hi, doll.”

Scratchy, slightly short of breath, yes, but that voice… Deke.

Oh, my… Was this really happening?

As she gasped, he swept a burning palm from her breast, down her belly, delving straight into her damp curls. The rough skin of his fingertips brushed over her clit, while Jack’s fingers were lodged tight inside her. Two insistent men, both strumming parts of her body that made her scream. The friction and pressure just about killed her, obliterating everything but the ability to ache with pent-up need. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. She couldn’t do anything but revel in the electric sensation arcing through her body.

“Come for us,” Deke demanded in her ear, pressing in on her swollen bud as Jack scraped the inflamed nerves inside her channel.

“Now!” Jack demanded.

A flood of blood and need crashed in on her pussy and burst, exploding out with pleasure and a scream of shocked ecstasy. Her body clamped Jack’s fingers in a vice grip. Deke groaned as she all but drenched his hand with her cream.

Slowly, they brought her down. Gentle touches, so easy. They worked in perfect tandem, in silence, both reading the cues of her body perfectly. Stunned, awed, Morgan felt tears prick the back of her eyes. The reality of what had just happened roused a fresh ache deep inside her.

Jack slipped his digits from her channel’s grip and removed the blindfold. She blinked against the sudden rush of sunlight as each of the men rounded her shoulder and came to stand in front of her.

Brown eyes and denim blue, both piercing, questioning, scorching. Morgan shivered, and they pressed closer, their wide, muscled chests covered in fever-hot skin and nearly eclipsing her. She didn’t have to look down to know she’d see two hungry cocks intent on giving and taking satisfaction.

Morgan drew in a shocked breath. Oh, unreal. She and Jack and Deke, mostly naked and in a hotel room… This was actually happening. Trepidation, forbidden thrill, a flare of arousal—the feelings bombarded her so quickly, Morgan could barely sort one from the other.

Except amazement. Just last night, Jack had poured out his guts, his heart, his pain, his fear. He’d been afraid that sharing her meant losing her. What had changed?

Deke thrust his finger in his mouth, sampling the juice of her arousal with a wicked smile. At the sight, a fresh flush swept through her, and Morgan cursed her fair skin. He just laughed.

Jack’s gaze was more serious. “Deke and I are here to grant your fantasy, cher.”

“We won’t hurt you, just give you the good kind of pain,” Deke promised with a wink.

“Why?” Her questioning gaze fell to Jack, and the whisper fell out of her mouth.

He cupped her face in his hands and stepped closer. “I realized that, if I want to claim you as mine, I had to have the balls to give you everything you need. Otherwise, I can’t truly be your master and I’m no better than that jackoff, Andrew. Tell me this is what you want, and you’ll have it now. We’re both ready to devote today to your pleasure.”

Claim me as his? As in beyond today? Her heart picked up speed at the scary, wonderful thought of having Jack in her life forever.

She stood, unmoving, struck mute, mind racing. “Oh...wow.”

“I’m more than ready.” A thread of ironic laughter wove its way through Deke’s voice.

“Do you really want this?” Jack murmured.

Those words pounded a heavy drumbeat of desire between her legs…where both of their fingers had possessed her and pushed her to a searing realm of pleasure.

Sensation overload aside, this was a moment of truth: Did she want both of them? Could she handle a ménage? Could she take receiving what she’d told Jack she’s always wanted?

An image of Jack and Deke both filling her, fucking her, nearly had her moaning. Her breasts ached, her clit already throbbed for attention again. And her heart swelled as she realized that Jack had put aside his fear and given her his trust so that she could experience her fantasy.