Wicked Ties(50)

Frowning, Jack realized a tactical error in that plan. Brandon dumping Morgan could

cause her pain. The thought of her anguish made him want to flay himself with a whip of

selfcensure.

Not only would Brandon leaving Morgan hurt her, it wouldn’t satisfy the writhing

mass of hate he had in his gut for Brandon. In order for Jack to get closure, Morgan must

realize that she deserved someone who understood her, a man who could give her what

her mind and body craved. She had to acknowledge that Brandon couldn’t satisfy her.

And Jack figured it was his job to prove that very fact to her.

How could he tempt her to leave Brandon?

Pacing across the room, toward the cottage’s lone bedroom, Jack pushed open the

door.

Holy shit. Morgan had pushed off her covers, baring herself to the night. He wished

she was bare to him. While that wasn’t actually the case, it was close. She wore next to

nothing, only the golden-lace camisole and thong. Moonlight spilling into the room

bathed the sweet blush-pink nipples and fiery fringe of her pussy in a soft silver light. It

called attention to things he loved about her body and made him want to howl at the

moon, absolutely.

Coaxing his way into that bed, into her body again, was as necessary as drawing his

next breath. It was the eye for an eye the vindictive part of him craved.

But his desire hardly stopped there. And he feared it was about more than revenge.

His cock gave a greedy leap at the thought of having Morgan again, in any way that

would bring them both to screaming pleasure… The want was a blast of heat drilling

straight through his erection and his brain. Damned odd, really. He didn’t fixate like this.

A willing woman was cause for a good mood and good times, always.

This was…more.

His body went wild at the thought of teaching Morgan about her sexuality, about the

desires that haunted her to sweating resistance and whimpering wails of pleasure. He

ached to show her how to take anything he dished out, give the burn back to him, and

share in the mind-blowing mental and physical satisfaction.

The likelihood of that happening… Jack shook his head. She wasn’t going to

surrender easily or without a fight, and he wasn’t out to break her. Just show her how

much satisfaction she’d find in submission.

Stalking into the bedroom, Jack lit a few candles throughout the room, then dropped

himself into the chair in the corner and stared, absently adjusting the unyielding length

of his cock in his jeans.

How did he tempt her to take a walk on the wild side with him so he could prove to

her she could be just as free and submissive as she yearned and still be okay with herself

—all while convincing her to leave Brandon so he could achieve the vengeance he’d

plotted for nearly three fucking years? How did he get her to give him that part of herself

she’d held back from him before, the part he was sure she’d never given any man?

A mischievous smile lifted his lips as an idea occurred to him. Simple, direct,

effective. Eager to put it in motion, he jogged back to his locked enclave and retrieved

two pairs of heavy velvet ropes.

Let the games begin…

CHAPTER SEVEN

Morgan woke slowly, drifting on the haze of an erotic dream where she lay on the

grass naked to the moonlight, arms tossed above her head in abandon as tender pulls at

her nipples created a pool of sweet pleasure between her legs. She writhed. Silvery

moonbeams worshipped her, caressing the underside of her arms, her belly, the tops of

her thighs with a feathery touch. She moaned.

Leaves fell from the trees above in a light summery breeze, drifting down to glide

over bare breasts, sensitive nipples. Again and again the leaves dropped from their trees

and found their way to her body, the gentle abrasion of their texture on her skin slowly

awakening her sensual need.

One leaf had a sharp edge as it drifted across her body. A slight sting in the hard peak

of her breast surprised her. She tried to dodge the leaf, but it was gone, replaced by a

glide of heat, then a sudden well of desire between her legs. Another sharp leaf pinched

at the other nipple. Another swelling of desire bloomed inside her. She arched to the

gentle pain and was again rewarded with a fresh flood of heat and moisture.

The ache between her thighs became a throb, a drumbeat inside her body calling for

release. Morgan moaned, shifted.

Beneath her, the grass seemed oddly smooth. She tried to sit up but was unable to

move. Another leaf drifted over her left breast, smooth, silky, gently rousing. It was

quickly followed by a sharp leaf that curled around her nipple and bit.

Pain faded an instant later, replaced by a merciless need in the tight tips of her

breasts. She arched, seeking more, as another leaf drifted down her abdomen and