Wicked ties, p.28
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       Wicked Ties, p.28

         Part #1 of Wicked Lovers series by Shayla Black
 
Page 28

 

  But Brice seemed only too eager to throw Morgan at him…

  Sighing, Jack shoved his thoughts away. It hardly mattered. The legend was ridiculous. It couldn’t be anything but bullshit. It had no logic. He didn’t do hocus-pocus.

  Still…it would explain why he wanted Morgan for his own so badly his teeth hurt.

  A noise to his left alerted him to the fact he was no longer alone. Morgan emerged through the screen door, into the hazy morning. Golden sunlight broke through the fog as she stepped into the morning breeze. The pure rays slanted in bright swaths across the swamp to settle on her as she strolled to the corner of the railing, clearly unaware that he watched her.

  Soft sunlight lit up her fiery tresses as they tumbled over her shoulders, and down her back. She wore a faded brown shirt. His shirt.

  Jack frowned. He’d seen this scene before. It was oddly familiar, but how? The memories were vague, as if he’d seen this a long time ago or in a dream—

  That was it, and it hadn’t been just any dream. The dream. The one he’d been seeing nearly every night in his sleep for the last six months.

  Holy hell.

  As he sucked in a stunned breath, electric shock arced through Jack. Time stopped as he waited.

  Morgan tilted her head and gazed out over the swamp…as the vision had in his dream.

  Fierce lust, a heart-wrenching ache, pure apprehension, a need he couldn’t explain. Everything tripped through him like a livewire, jolting him from fingertips to toes. What the hell was happening to him?

  A lifted corner of Morgan’s mouth seemed to hint at a smile. From his angle, the expression looked happy, and the need to see her like that—utterly, sublimely happy—kicked him in the teeth.

  Damn. Her feelings shouldn’t make a damn bit of difference to him. In a few days, a week at most, he and Deke would likely have solved her case and she’d be gone. If he did things right, her engagement to Brandon would be over, too.

  But that wouldn’t make Morgan his.

  Jack gritted his teeth as he watched Morgan shift, lean over the nearest rail.

  The veil of mystery that had always enshrouded the woman in his dreams suddenly fell away. He knew her face, her quick temper, the passion she tried to leash under misplaced modesty, her unexpected courage and sharp tongue. But he still wanted to see her.

  Turn around! he silently demanded.

  As if she was so attuned to him that she heard, she slowly began to turn his way. A delicate ear, a graceful neck, a stubborn slope to her jaw, lush mouth twisted in an effort to hold back the tears drenching her stormy blue eyes.

  And in that moment, Jack knew that he wanted Morgan more than anything else—revenge, riches, power. This woman had somehow zoomed to the top of his list.

  Morgan gasped when she saw him. “I—I didn’t know you…” Her breathing hitched. “Sorry. ”

  She turned and darted for the cottage.

  Jack bounded out of his seat, wrapped his arms around her, and turned her to face him.

  Mine!

  The instant he touched her, that feeling sang in his blood, settled deep into his bones.

  At the moment, he couldn’t fight it and didn’t try.

  Mine!

  Everything in his gut told him not to let her get away.

  Ever.

  When she buried her chin in her chest, he hooked a finger under her chin and lifted her face to his. The pain there jabbed into his gut.

  “Cher,” he whispered. “Mon douce amour. ”

  My sweet love? God, he was so far gone.

  She pressed her lips together, blinking, valiantly stopping her tears. “I have no idea what you’re saying. Probably that I’m an idiot. ” She let loose a sad, watery laugh. “Which fits. I am an idiot. ”

  “No. Idiot in French doesn’t sound much different. You’d be able to pick that up. ”

  “Good to know,” she choked, trying to break away. “I need to… Let me go. ”

  An instinct screamed at Jack that that would be the worst thing he could do. He didn’t fight that gut feeling. “Jamais. ”

  Never. The word echoed in his head.

  He had to be out of his mind, because he’d never reacted so strongly to a woman. Never wanted to hold her close for…well, forever. But he couldn’t examine the feeling now, not when she was still trying to pull away, except to know it was nonnegotiable. .

  Instead, Jack anchored his palm on her nape and brought Morgan against him. “You’re not an idiot. You’re a challenge. You’ve got a saucy mouth that makes me crazy. I can’t decide if I should spank you, laugh, or get you underneath me so all that fire can blister me as I sink deep into you. ”

  “Jack…” Her voice held a pleading note. “I can’t… I’m not made for what you have behind that locked door. I can’t handle…”

  Her stammering uncertainty shredded his composure and resolve. The way he’d rushed her into facing her sexuality had disturbed her, displaced her beliefs about herself. She was still trying to assimilate. He shouldn’t rush her more. Not now. Or he’d risk losing her.

  Not losing her was more important than his next breath. Definitely more important than revenge.

  “Shh. We don’t have to talk about the playroom now. I just want a kiss, cher. I missed holding you last night. ”

  The tears in her eyes overflowed, spilling down her cheeks. The sight of it wrenched at Jack’s gut as he wiped them away with his thumbs.

  “Don’t say that. ”

  “I’m being honest,” he whispered against her mouth. “Did you miss me, too?”

  “It makes no sense,” she confessed with a nod, then bit her lip as if to keep in the rest of her feelings. “I can’t do—can’t be— what you want. ”

  Jack knew better. Knew it. And he’d prove it to her.

  “I didn’t know what half of that…equipment was,” she added.

  “And that, along with missing me, made you feel like an idiot. ” He tried to smile softly, tried to reassure. Her answer sure elated the hell out of him. “Tsk. I’m a much bigger idiot than you. I didn’t just miss you, I ached to hold you. I burned to touch you, in any way you’d let me. With or without toys. ”

  That need inside him was rising, amplifying, drowning out all else, including good sense. His hand tightened around her neck, fingers tangling in her hair. Normally, his self-control was anywhere between stellar and legendary. With Morgan…resisting a woman he wanted this bad seemed not just pointless, but fucking impossible.

  Slanting his mouth over the soft pillows of her lips, instinct charged through Jack. With a barely leashed passion, he alternately demanded and pleaded his way inside, coaxing her mouth open, relieved and revved when she let him in to steal both her objections and her breath.

  He claimed her, pouring the need blazing through his gut and firing his soul into the kiss. Just touching her drugged him. Cradling her face in his hands, Jack was amazed anew by the silken warmth of her skin. The raspberry scent of her nearly drove him out of his head.

  The sweet taste of her kiss hit him. Cinnamon sugar, hot silk, female want. Jack sank into her mouth, her essence. With every breath, he tasted her confused passion and reluctant need. Jack dove deeper still into her mouth, determined to lap up every bit of her doubt and warmth and uncertainty he could and give it back to her in reassurance and devotion. With purposeful sweeps through her mouth and soft nibbles on her lower lip, he fed her a taste of his greedy lust, and declared his determination to get her close and keep her there.

  In his arms, her breath caught. She clasped him tight, pressing her breasts against him. The tears drenching her cheeks moistened his own face, kick-starting his heart all over again.

  Jack worked a hand through her silky tresses of fire and kissed a hot path across her jaw, working his way to her ear.

  “I… Oh, Jack! I can’t be what you want. ”

  “You already are. ” He nibbled on her lobe. Be
neath the onslaught of his lips, Morgan’s breathing picked up speed. Her heartbeat pounded at the base of her neck, chugging with arousal. He covered the spot with his mouth, laving it with his tongue. She rewarded him with a moan, arching her throat to him in invitation.

  Jack could smell the desire on her now, could tell she was wet. The realization made him hard as hell. So hard, it was as if he hadn’t been balls deep in her in weeks or months.

  Utterly, sublimely crazy.

  Pulling her into the unyielding iron of his erection, Jack groaned. He’d intended to wait, woo her, cajole her. No. He had to get inside of her. Anything less wasn’t an option. He needed to feel the hot grip of her sweet pussy closing around his cock as he swallowed her cries with his mouth. He had to see her submission in the softening of her body, the lowering of her gaze, the invitation of her creaming slit.

  With a single yank, he ripped the tails of the shirt covering her apart, halfway down her belly. Jackpot! Her firm, pale breasts bathed in golden light beckoned him. Jack didn’t fight it. Instead, he bent and captured one puckered nipple in his mouth, sucking hard and strong,

  Morgan gasped. But she arched to him, silently encouraging him. She tangled her fingers in his hair to anchor him. No need; he wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. With his other hand, he squeezed the plump tip of her other breast, turning, plucking.

  “Yes!”

  He loved her responsive cry, but with a nip of his teeth across her sensitive flesh, he reminded her of her lapse.

  “Yes, sir,” she corrected.

  “Parfaite,” he said, rewarding her by laving his tongue across the rapidly-swelling nubs. “So fucking perfect. ”

  Jack moved his fingers on her turgid little nipples. Damn, he was hungry for another taste of them. But the man, the dominant in him, craved something else even more. She smelled like heaven, got wet for him in a heartbeat. He’d bet money she tasted of pure wicked delight.

  “Sit on the railing, Morgan. ”

  With only a hint of reluctance, she hopped up on the wooden edge of the wraparound porch. Logic told him not to push her. But his need wouldn’t allow him to back away.

  He reached around with a light stinging slap to her ass. “Who do you obey?”

  Confusion and yearning clashed in her tear-drenched blue eyes. Morgan was struggling to process the needs of her body, align them with her independent streak. She was over-thinking things…but that was Morgan.

  Using his other hand, he slapped the other cheek of her backside.

  “You, sir. ”

  At least she hadn’t denied it. If she had… Jack thought he might have gone out of his fucking mind. As it was, his control slipped as dangerous determination to drive Morgan to sweating, screaming orgasm slammed into him.

  With a grunt, he tore the rest of the shirt Morgan wore apart, exposing every delicate, pale curve of her body. Excellent, no panties. The wet, pink folds of her sex were covered by a thin dusting of hair. But he wanted to see more. Needed to.

  With a hand at her back to steady her, Jack spread her legs wide with the other. A quick glance down told him she was drenched in her cream. Yes! Her slick folds swelling and flushing pink with each passing moment. Gorgeous.

  Mine! the instinctive beast in him snarled silently.

  “Steady yourself,” he ordered, placing her hands on the edge of the rail on either side of her hips.

  “Sir?”

  “You don’t question, Morgan,” he growled. “You take what I give you. You do what I say. You come when I tell you. ”

  “We’re outdoors. If anyone came by in a boat, they…they would see us. ” She eased her legs closed.

  “We’re in the middle of nowhere, but that’s irrelevant. Your well-being is my concern. I will keep you safe. Put your trust and your body in my care. Can you do that?”

  Morgan wanted to. Jack could see the need in her turbulent blue eyes conflicting with her modesty in her anxious expression. It wasn’t lack of trust in him…but herself.

  “Nothing bad will happen,” he assured her. “Let me take over. ”

  A ragged breath and a long pause later, she sent him an unsteady nod.

  It was all he could do not to let out a whoop and devour her on the spot. She’d said yes, not because he’d surprised her or taunted her into it. She’d simply said yes. To him.

  “Good. Steady yourself. Spread your legs for me. ”

  With trembling hands, Morgan acceded to his demands, leaning back to brace her hands on the rail. Slowly, so damn slowly, she drew her thighs apart again.

  Fucking beautiful. Perfect.

  Mine!

  Jack dropped to his knees and kissed the insides of each of her thighs. Her breath hitched, body tensed. With a smooth glide of his palms up her thighs, he held her still, anchored her hips to the railing. Then he just stared, breathing in the addicting musky-sweet scent of her. She was all blushing, slick flesh, and trembling limbs.

  It took every ounce of Jack’s self-control not to dive into her like an all-you-can-eat buffet. He wanted to taste her everywhere, along the glistening folds hiding her deepest secrets, up high where her clit played hide-and-seek under its delicate hood, inside the hot, tight channel that held her cream.

 
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