Wicked Ties(64)

red haze of need. Within minutes, she’d tried to claw at Jack’s shoulders in silent plea—

only to realize he’d tied her down again. And blindfolded her.

He’d released the ties at her ankles suddenly, she recalled, then shifted her close to

the head of the bed. Keeping her wrists tethered, he’d sat her up and, with a grip of

controlled fervor, guided her down on his cock.

“Ride me, cher. Squeeze me with that pretty pussy and ride me,” he whispered in the

midnight air.

With his hands clutching her hips, Jack dictated the speed and depth of his

penetration. Never too deep, never too fast. Never enough to do anything but reduce her

to a panting, pleading mass of tingles.

Morgan had whimpered for more. Perspiration dampened her belly, her back, as she

strained toward a release he wouldn’t give her. Instead, he merely drove her up, up, up to

mindlessness with endlessly slow strokes.

“Jack…” she moaned.

“Non.” He sat up beneath her, then nipped at the tip of her breast with his teeth,

even as one of his hands struck her bare ass.

The double pleasure-pain ricocheted through her body, spiraling sensations through

her body like hot lava. She gasped for air as Jack buried himself deep, deep inside her.

He thrust up, but still in long, lazy strokes that multiplied the friction, exploded shivers

of sensation within her.

“Wrong,” he chastised, lifting her up, nearly off his cock. “What should you call me?”

Morgan hesitated, teetering on the knife’s edge of need. Panting, her sex on fire, her

bound hands preventing her from touching him, she cried out, “More. Please…”

“You’ll get it when you address me properly.”

“Sir.” She managed to get the word out of her mouth in a rush. “Sir.”

Jack rewarded her with a quick up thrust, his cock burrowing deep, filling her

completely. Morgan cried out. The hand at her hip inched over until his thumb toyed

with her clit. With a moan, she arched into his touch, seeking the edge of the cliff that

was nearly in front of her. Almost…

With quick fingers, he untied her hands—and made it clear they would not stay idle.

“Play with your nipples, Morgan. Show me how you like to have them touched.”

She hesitated, apprehension tangling with a jolt of lust. Put her hands on herself

while he watched? Oh God, the idea excited her.

When she didn’t comply, Jack stopped his slow, steady thrusts. Morgan whimpered.

“Touch them. Now,” he demanded. “Or I will stop fucking you and spank that pretty

little ass red again…”

Morgan didn’t want to think about how much she’d liked his broad palm striking the

cheeks of her butt. But she wanted his cock inside her more, as much as she wanted to

please him. She brought her hands to her breasts and cupped them, wishing more than

anything that she could see his face. Was he aroused by what she was doing? Repulsed?

“And your nipples. You don’t ignore them when you make yourself come, do you?”

“No,” she said breathlessly, squeezing them between her thumb and fingers, then

giving a slight twist. “No, sir.”

A fresh rush of moisture surged from her passage, wetting her already-slick folds.

Her body’s gesture didn’t go unnoticed.

“Yes, cher. I love you wet. You’re so perfect to fuck, like you were made for my cock.”

Jack lowered her on his erection again and poured into her again with a heady, steady

rhythm that made her head spin, her body burn. She met him, thrust for thrust, moan for

moan, pinching her nipples on each downward stroke until they were so hard, so

sensitive.

“Move your hands,” he murmured against her skin.

It was almost with reluctance that she released the hard buds of her breasts. Difficult

to admit that, but satisfaction was so close, she tasted it on her tongue. She whimpered

for it. Her fingers pinching her nipples added to the pleasure Jack swarmed her with.

She didn’t have to do without the delight for long. He took one of her stiff tips into

his mouth, sucking so hard, he pressed it against the roof of his mouth while his tongue

teased the underside. His fingers tormented the other, putting so much sweet pressure,

so much ache, around the sensitive crests that she nearly screamed.

“You’re tightening on my cock, cher. You don’t come until I tell you to,” he reminded.

“I can’t stop it, sir,” she murmured, helpless against the rising tide of ecstasy

threatening to overtake her.

“You can. You will. Just as you’ll play with your clit for me.” He lifted one of her

hands to his mouth and sucked a finger into the shocking heat. “Lick your finger like