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Wicked Ties(81)

By:Shayla Black


and planning to save that destination for last.

“I…I don’t know. Anywhere.”

“No one has ever made you come this way.” Jack didn’t make it a question. He was

pretty sure he knew the answer.

Morgan shook her head.

Amazing. Another intimate act he would be first to introduce Morgan to. The

exhilarating thought went straight to his cock. Was every guy she’d dated a eunuch? He

loved this, the intimate taste, the immediacy of knowing exactly which touch affected a

woman most. No quicker way to make her putty, to make her beg.

To make her his.

Jack dropped his gaze to her swollen sex. Maybe…maybe he could coax her to connect

him and pleasure together in her mind. That alone wouldn’t be enough to keep her, but

it would be a start. The rest he’d work out hour by hour, day by day, until she agreed not

just to leave Brandon but to become his.

“You’re going to come for me, Morgan. But not until I tell you to. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

Her breathy, perfect reply made his cock tighten to the point of distraction. Soon…

“Ma belle, si douce,” he breathed over her clit. “Sweet, beautiful woman.”

#

Morgan’s heart raced as she stared down her mostly naked body and saw Jack

kneeling between her shaking thighs. The want coursing through her made her limbs

feel heavy, her head feel light. Her sex clenched, ached. Something was different about

Jack’s touch; something between the two of them. God, what was happening to her? She

swallowed against a whimper of need.

He gripped her thighs, pushing them wider, exposing her even more. Then, with his

thumbs, opened her sex to his gaze.

Trembling, Morgan had never felt more vulnerable—or aroused. She dripped, arched

to him, held her breath, waited. Jack could have no doubt that she responded to his

demands, to the way he forced her legs apart, then stared at her sex as if he intended to

eat it like a ripe peach.

Sanity—where was it? She was supposed to be engaged, for heaven’s sake. She was

not supposed to like his rough brand of domination. She wasn’t the depraved woman

Andrew had accused her of being. She didn’t even know why a shameful part of her

thrilled to Jack’s orders.

The chilly morning breeze swept over her skin, but instead of wishing for cover, the

contrast of the cool air on her heated body thrilled her.

“I love how wet you are for me. I feel your thighs tremble. I see all the folds of your

cunt swelling, cher.”

She squeezed her eyes shut, unable to just let go and enjoy. “No.”

In response, Jack merely dragged his thumb over her clit. It hardened into a pulsing

knot of pure need.

A denial might have fallen from her lips, but her body was betraying her. Over and

over. She’d never responded to anyone the way she did for Jack, flushing, aching,

complying with whatever he wanted. Shaking with the need for more.

The knowledge of everything he kept in his playroom, items she’d only vaguely heard

of and fantasized about, all just down the hall. All within the grasp of a man who surely

knew how to use each with devastating skill.

“No what?” he taunted. “No, don’t make you feel good? No, don’t fuck you in every

way I can think of, until you’ve come so many times your body is limp from the pleasure?

Is that what you’re saying no to?”

His words and the electrically sexual images they conjured up bombarded her brain,

denting her resistance like the hood of a car in a vicious hailstorm. But Morgan knew if

she let go, Jack would just introduce her to one more touch to crave later, one more

amazing sensation to heat up shameful midnight fantasies after they parted.

“Or are you telling yourself no?” he murmured, his lips brushing over the top of her

cleft, so light yet charging her with a wicked zing that seemed to fist around her sex and

squeeze. “Are you hoping to deny how good it will feel to have my tongue in your

pleasure-soaked pussy?”

Yes! Damn, she had to be as transparent as plastic wrap for him to read her so easily.

Forcing her eyes open, she gazed down at him—just in time to see his tongue dive

between her folds. The sight of his calloused hands cradling the delicate flesh inside her

thighs, his skin many times darker than her own, jolted her with a pure desire that

sizzled up and down her spine and exploded in her belly.

God help her.

On that thought, the wet heat of his mouth covered her. Molten pleasure burst inside

her as he licked from slit to clit, then swirled his tongue around her as if trying to lap up her cream.

“Cher, you’re like a treat.”

His voice sounded raspy and rough, half grunt and half groan. It dug past her