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Wicked Ties(34)

By:Shayla Black


“Show me,” he growled.

Oh, God. The command in his voice turned the ache between her legs into a throb.

She wanted to obey…so bad. Sizzle coursed through her. Blood rushed everywhere,

swelling her clit. Already wet from orgasm, she felt moisture pooling in her most

intimate recesses, threatening to overflow. Jack’s spicy, earthy scent was scattering

rational thought. The parts of her body aching for his touch were in control.

What’s the worst that could happen if you gave in? a voice inside her asked.

More disappointment and frustration. More rejection and ridicule.

Then again, it took her at least a dozen pairs of shoes to find the right fit. Were lovers

the same way? Maybe three hadn’t been enough.

Confusion spun in her head.

“Jack,” she managed to murmur in between his wicked touches. “I talk to people

about sex for a living. I don’t need to have it to do the show.”

“Forget the show. You need what I can give you. Stop denying yourself.”

“I’m not denying myself anything.” Stupid! Morgan bit her lip, sure that her flushed

cheeks and hard nipples made her words an obvious lie.

He grabbed her jaw in one hand. “You lie to me again, and I’m going to spank you so

hard you won’t sit for a week. Tell me why you’re resisting what you want.”

“Don’t touch me.” She tried to jerk from his grasp.

Jack held firm. “Cher, I’m going to do more than touch you. Way more. And the

longer you hold out on answering me, the more I’m going to make you beg.”

Oh, God. His words alone made Morgan hot as she weighed them and the relentless

demand in his eyes against her fears. He could do it; he could make her beg. And the

thought raced a shiver down her spine. “Fine. If you have to know, I’m not some femme

fatale. I don’t respond much to sex.”

Cajun charm softened pushy arrogance with a mere curl of his sin-inspiring lips. He

placed hot kisses on her neck, nibbled at the curve to her shoulder. “You responded just

fine to everything I threw your way in Lafayette.”

Surprise. That’s all it had been. She’d been too shocked to really react. To want, then

bow to the pressure of self-doubt. Then clam up until, tense and frustrated, her body

gave up. Besides, she might be curious about his…lifestyle, but participating committed

her far more than simply wondering. And she had a bad feeling that one taste of Jack

Cole would be as addicting as heroin to a junkie.

“We don’t really know each other.”

Jack’s fingertips cascaded over her shoulder, leaving nothing but anticipation and a

fresh crop of goose bumps in their wake. “I know enough to know how to make you

scream. But that isn’t what’s stopping you.”

He kissed her neck, her jawline, inched up toward her mouth. She melted under his

mouth. God, that felt good. And his smell… Did it contain some ingredient that was like

Kryptonite for her restraint?

“We don’t like each other much,” she pointed out in a desperate gasp, evading his

kiss—a kiss she wanted so bad, her gut clenched with desire.

Again, he smiled, a flash of white teeth visible in the room bathed with predawn

light. “I’m liking you just fine right now, cher. I liked you the first time we talked online.

I like that you’re smart and gutsy and sexy as hell.”

He whispered the words against her mouth, and Morgan felt her resolve fraying

around the edges. Back in Lafayette, Jack had touched her breasts, stroked her clit,

fondled deep inside her, yes. But his kiss lingered, haunted her. Like the smoothest wine,

all wrapped in sin and velvet, with a kick of lust that promised pleasure. His kiss gave her

a preview of his strength and selfcontrol. Almost against her will, she leaned toward him.

For a wild moment, Morgan thought he would pull away. Tease her, enflame her with

what might be. Instead, he grasped the sides of her face and kept her gaze locked to his

dark one.

“The memory of you in my arms…it’s been keeping me hard all night. Watching you

sleep was torture. I kept thinking about lying next to you on the bed, peeling your clothes

away and devouring everything underneath. I want to get my hands on you, cher. My

mouth on you. Get inside you, drive deep and sure. I want you to scream my name when

you come.”

Morgan couldn’t breathe. The impact of every word did more than rev up her libido;

they struck her like body blows, every syllable battering her resolve with hot intent. He

robbed her of air, of the will to resist. How would he feel? Taste? That terrible vise of

desire clamped her clit with need. She hardly contained her whimper with the need to