Wicked Ties(40)

way was like having her again and savoring her every reaction.

She whispered something. He said something back, but the audio on the tape didn’t

pick it up. It hardly mattered when she dropped the towel. Though his body blocked

most of the view of her body, he saw the plump curve of a breast, a flash of soft, pink

folds guarded by fire-red hair. But he saw more. The lush line of her hip, the fluid shape

of her thighs. The vulnerability on her face. She was taking a risk with him, and she knew

it. And the reservation. She wasn’t 100 hundred percent committed to this. But the

aching curiosity had finally overwhelmed her concern. She was dying for a dominant…

and didn’t want to accept it.

There had to be a reason why. He was way more interested in solving that mystery

than he ought to be.

Jack swore again, torn between guilt, curiosity, and the hot flash of desire, as he

watched himself lift her up, brace her against the door, and fill her with a series of

ramming thrusts. He remembered—so well it had him sweating—how tight she’d been,

how she’d struggled to take him. But she never uttered a word, never complained. A

wince of pain crossed her face, and Jack bunched his hands into fists. Damn it, why

hadn’t she said something? Hurting her had been the last thing on his mind. Next time—

There may not be a next time, he reminded himself. He had what he needed now that

he’d found this video. Would the knowledge that she’d felt utter sensual devastation at

the hands of a virtual stranger be enough to make her leave Brandon? Too early to tell,

but he feared getting her to leave the senator’s son wouldn’t be that simple. He’d have to

devise something…

As he watched her accept the entire length of his cock and her face suffuse with

pleasure, he hoped like hell that one encounter wasn’t enough, that she ached to submit

to him again. And again. Why fight the truth? She called to him. Everything about her,

her skin, her smell, her grit. She was an interesting mixture of naiveté and temptation.

Shy and holding back one minute, opening wide and begging him to fuck her the next.

He liked being a little off balance, and she gave that to him.

The video kept playing, second after second, of their hard ride against the door. He

could see the orgasm mounting within Morgan. Her sweet lips parted. She groaned and

tightened her legs around him. He watched her gasp and could nearly feel her silken heat

all over him, even now. Erasing the memory of her scent, her reactions—Morgan herself

—wasn’t going to be easy.

Jack shifted, adjusting himself in his pants. He grimaced. How often was he rock hard

and ready to sink balls deep into a woman fifteen minutes after taking her? Rarely. How

often had a woman lingered in his mind like this after one mere fucking? Never.

He exhaled. Why was she different? Then his grandfather’s words hit him like a

battering ram in the gut. If you’re dreaming about a redheaded woman over and over,

you’re about to meet her and she’s your heart’s mate. Impossible. The woman in his

mind, his dreams, was just a fantasy. It wasn’t necessarily Morgan.

But she’d felt a whole lot like a fantasy come true.

On screen, she clawed at his back. He could clearly hear her say, “Yes, more! So

good!” She panted once, twice, before her lips feverishly brushed his neck. “Never

better.”

Jack shivered in remembrance. Yes, it had been good. Damn good. Spec-fucking-

tacular, if he was honest. Damn it, he had no need to fuck her again. Now that he had

proof they’d done the deed, this part of his revenge was complete. She’d served her

purpose. And there was no such thing as a heart’s mate.

“Jack!” He watched Morgan scream his name, bounce on him, taking pleasure, giving

it.

Here in his chair, with his gaze fixed on her flushing body, his balls tightened,

broiling with the need to come again. He gritted his teeth against the urge to stroke his

cock through his jeans.

But he could also see her holding something back, keeping some part of her separate

from him, removed from his touch. Something he hadn’t picked up on with her tight, wet

walls closing around his cock and his heartbeat drumming in his ears. He peered in,

fixing his gaze on the grainy screen. It remained a mystery. What the hell was that about?

A few buttons later, he’d rewound the footage and played the last few moments

again. Still, he couldn’t discern what Morgan had kept inside. He only knew it pissed him

off. Filled him with an odd sense of…betrayal. With the need to earn her full surrender.

Cursing, Jack finally spliced the video, just including the last minute, those few