Wicked Ties(38)
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.”
Morgan did her best to loosen her muscles—hard when she was dying a slow death
by desire. Jack kept pushing his way inside, the blade of his flesh cutting through her
like soft butter, probing past nerve endings with the wide head of his cock, awakening
them, leaving tingles screaming in his wake. He made her need soar, and it seemed like
forever until he was buried to the hilt. Oh, God, she needed to come.
She’d never taken a man this big, this deep. She could feel him in the back of her
tonsils. The width of him stretched her until her flesh burned. But it wasn’t enough.
That hint of pain fueled something inside her. Her blood raced, perspiration burst
across her skin. The ache made her hyperaware of being alive, of the pleasure roiling
beside the sting.
“More!” she demanded. “Please…”
Without warning, he withdrew nearly all the way, then eased back in, much gentler
than before. The pain faded, but it had charged up the tissues in her sex as never before.
She swore she could feel ever inch, every vein, of his cock rasping across suddenly
sensitive flesh inside her.
Jack brought agonizing pleasure with every slow stroke, every rub of the swollen head
of his cock right over the flesh inside that had her gasping. Gasping, burning need took
over, receding everything but the feel of him, her need for him.
“Cher, tu sens si douce,” he murmured in her ear as he thrust insider her again. “You
feel so sweet.”
She tried to hold on, hold out against the pleasure threatening to sweep away her
sanity. But with those words and the next hard stroke of his cock, orgasm engulfed her
like a raging hurricane—swift, strong, unlike anything she’d ever experienced.
“Jack!” she screamed, nails biting into his shoulders.
Morgan knew then her first instinct was right; she was never going to be the same
again.
#
With Morgan’s scream ringing in his ears, Jack surged into the silken heaven of her
pussy one more time and lost control of the orgasm he held onto by a bare thread.
The explosion originated low in his belly, driving pleasure out through his cock. It
burst out across his body, suffusing bliss everywhere. A wave of dizziness crashed over
him. His toes tingled. The pulses of Morgan’s second climax fluttered around him,
milking him of every last drop of semen, leaving heavy satisfaction in her wake.
When had anything ever felt so good?
Struggling to catch his breath, he opened his eyes to her flushed face, her swollen
mouth, the relaxed set of her shoulders.
Did she look like this after a night in Brandon’s bed?
The thought slammed Jack out of nowhere. Anger and denial sluiced through him in
a shock, as if he’d jumped into an icy stream. He stilled.
Anger? Yes, that Brandon had touched her. That she belonged to the bastard.
Ah, but you fucked her, he reminded himself. Revenge is sweet.
True, but his gut, that gnawing spot that had festered like a wound in acid for three
years because of Brandon’s betrayal, wasn’t whooping with elation. Instead, he fixated on
the feel of Morgan around him, of her raspberry scent. He’d just come inside her and
already he wanted to do it again.
Not smart, Jack.
He’d lured her in to fuck her as payback. First mission objective accomplished. End of
story.
Jack forced himself to withdraw and set Morgan on her feet. She looked at him with
wide eyes that both asked for reassurance and wondered what was next between them.
He couldn’t answer either.
Stifling a curse, he turned away, tore off the condom and tossed it in a nearby
trashcan. Why he should be pissed off all over again, he didn’t know. Because he’d liked
Morgan and she didn’t deserve to be used? Maybe because he’d wanted to believe that
she wouldn’t betray the man she’d agreed to marry by spreading her legs for another.
Stupid him.
He zipped up his jeans and turned to Morgan again. Her lower lip quivered. Her
posture had gone from satiated to guarded in seconds. Something deep in his gut wanted
to reach out to her, reassure her. The other part was scared shitless at the magnitude of
his reaction to her.
“Help yourself to anything in the kitchen,” he tossed out, then turned away.
Jack strode to the back of the house, to his private domain. Fishing the keys from his
pocket, he unlocked the door.
Go in. Shut it. Don’t look at her.
Impossible.
Jack turned to face her. Across the length of his cottage, he could still see the shock