“Good girl. Spread those pretty thighs.”
Leaning against the door, Morgan stepped wide. Jack trailed his fingers over her puffed, wet folds, toyed with the tip of her clit, trailed moisture down her thighs. Her breathing climbed higher, along with her heartbeat. Amazing. Jack knew just where to touch, when, for how long, to keep her on edge, to grow her want but never fulfill it.
Soon, she felt a flush suffuse her skin all over. She was one giant ache, whimpering, dying for him to fill her, conquer this monstrous need he’d created in her. Morgan ran greedy hands over his hard shoulders, the incredible lines of his pectorals, his ridged abdomen. He amazed her. Flesh so hard everywhere, but skin so silky soft.
He lured her close to the edge of restraint with talented fingers, an occasional nip at her br**sts. His long, fevered kisses made her moan, arch, silently plead. He toyed with her, inciting her higher and higher until she became dizzy, delirious, willing to do most anything for him to end her torment.
In desperation, she trailed her hands down his stomach and grabbed the ridge of his c**k through his jeans. Huge. Thick and like iron, he could give her what her body needed. So why wasn’t he?
With a hiss, Jack grabbed her wrist and anchored it against the door, near her head.
“You didn’t ask to touch me.”
“I thought you’d like it,” she panted.
“You thought you’d strip my self-control, Morgan, so you can get what you want. Non. You touch me when you’re told, not before.”
Restless, beyond needy, she shifted from one foot to the other. He kept her thighs spread with his feet between hers, so she couldn’t clench them together. His fingers toyed again with her ni**les, now slightly sore. And somehow that tiny hint of pain only made his every touch more vivid, shot every caress straight down to her clit.
“Please, sir…”
“Please what, cher?” He pinched her ni**les and murmured the question against her lips. “You want me to f**k you?”
She’d never said those words to a man in her life. Never imagined saying them. But now, she couldn’t imagine saying anything else. She needed Jack now—hard, fast, pounding.
“Yes,” she whispered. “Fuck me.”
He hesitated, dark brow raised expectantly.
“Sir,” she added hastily, panting. “Fuck me, sir.”
In reward, he slid a pair of fingers over her clit and rubbed tiny, torturous circles around the hard nubbin. Morgan had thought that, surely, her arousal could not climb any higher. She’d been dead wrong, she thought with a moan.
So close now, Morgan’s every breath was audible. A drag in, a rush out, air filled her lungs, but never made it to her head. There was only her heartbeat, drowning out everything except the need to feel him deep inside her.
“Unzip my pants.”
Morgan didn’t hesitate, didn’t tease. She rushed to pull the zipper down and shove the hated jeans down his hips. He wore no underwear, so his c**k sprang free into her waiting hands.
She rubbed him. Her technique was fast and inexpert, she was sure, driven totally by a need to touch him, feel the man who would soon be inside her. Fists wrapped around him, one on top of the other, she stroked his thick length and gloried.
Until he grabbed her wrists and took her hands away, shoving them against the door again.
“You’re not following directions, cher. I said to unzip my pants, not to take them down, not to stroke my cock. Fail again, and you won’t get this f**king.”
She bit her lip, trying to find patience, and nodded. “I understand…sir.”
Her clit pulsed just from saying those words. God, what was wrong with her? She was too far gone to care. Later…
In silence, he extracted a packet from his pocket and shoved his jeans down to his knees. Seconds later, he ripped open the foil square and sheathed the purple head of his cock, then rolled it down his long length. Slowly. Too damn slowly. Morgan resisted the urge to help him, or hurry him up or tap her feet in impatience.
Suddenly, he bent, lifted her by her hips and wedged her body between his and the door. “Put your legs around my waist.”
She hesitated. Could people really have sex standing up? She’d never tried anything more exotic than woman on top.
“Do it.” His voice was edged with steel.
Without another pause, Morgan lifted both of her legs and folded them around his hips. Moments later, he rewarded her with the feel of his c**k probing at her entrance, all thick and ready. Breath held, she clung to his shoulders, on the razor’s edge, waiting.