She swallowed. “Stay where you are. Don’t come closer!”
In typical Jack fashion, he just kept coming toward her. He didn’t stop until he’d settled his hands on her hips, bent his knees, and pressed her wet, aching sex right against the ridge of his erection.
“Hmm. Your pu**y is like summer in Louisiana, cher. Sultry. Intriguing. Inviting me to spend the day lazing inside.”
Morgan tried to struggle away—before the hunger gnawing at her gobbled up her good sense. Already the things he’d done to her in his bed haunted her. She didn’t dare give in again and make leaving him when the time came even more difficult. And she was no longer naive enough to believe that being with Jack in his way would cure her of the forbidden midnight desires that made her sweat. She knew now he’d only make her wants sharper, more explicit. More urgent.
“Let go and leave me alone.”
Jack took his sweet time responding, trailing the flat of his large palm over her ass, then lifting her thigh above his hip, and leaning in to give her an electric nudge of his c**k against her aching clit. Then slowly, he released her and stepped away.
By then, her body was thrumming with need, the desire so loud inside her, the front row of a heavy metal concert would be more sedate. She clasped her hands to stop their trembling.
“You don’t give the orders, cher. I do, especially when I’ve got you all spread out across my bed.”
Digging into the pocket of his jeans, Jack pulled out a set of keys, strolled across the room, and unlocked the door. He flung the door wide and stepped inside long enough to flip a light switch.
Morgan tried to peer in discreetly, but the light inside was dim and red against black walls. She couldn’t see much, just low light and shadows. Her gut tightened with apprehension…and devastating curiosity.
“Through that door, you’ll find my playroom. In there, I have every means to restrain you, every tool to arouse, every toy to f**k you. You take a nice, long look around, cher, so you can describe it on your show. I’ll come back in fifteen minutes. If you’re still here…” He smiled and shifted his weight, clearly displaying the huge bulge pressing against straining denim. “Let’s say you’ll get an up close and personal tour.”
Jack turned to leave.
“And if I’m gone in fifteen minutes?” she blurted.
He stopped. The glance he cast her over his shoulder could have melted steel. “You’ll just be delaying the inevitable, cher. And it’ll cost you.”
Morgan stood still, trembling. The door to Jack’s most private room stood open not two feet away. She was curious about what he had in there. God knew she was.
Yet she hesitated.
Did she want to know those secrets? Really want to know? Having the knowledge would haunt her, change her. Would knowing exactly what he did in these four walls make him and the sexuality he could give her more objectionable?
Or more seductive?
Shaking away her thoughts, Morgan knew the clock was ticking. Jack would come back in less than fifteen minutes. If she was still standing in his lair…he’d take that as an unequivocal yes—to anything, everything. The only boundaries between them would be his own, coupled with the limits of his imagination.
In other words, there would be no limits.
Morgan swallowed against a flush of heat. Regardless of whether the room and its contents made her more afraid or less, she had to see, and not just out of curiosity. Labeling her emotions mere journalistic or feminine interest was too simple.
Morgan had to see that room because it would tell her about the alluring, mysterious conundrum named Jack.
Drawing in a shaky breath, she took a tentative step toward the red light in the corner that drew her like a siren.
One foot forward. Yes. Then the other. Repeat the process.
Sheer nerve kept her moving, coaching herself with each step. Finally, she stood at the door and opened her eyes. She hadn’t even realized she’d closed them.
Air tumbled out of her as her jaw dropped. Shock pounded her as she stared.
The question wasn’t what did Jack have in here. The question was what didn’t he have. Just from the doorway, she first saw something that, with two horizontal bars about two feet apart, looked a bit like a standing towel rack. But given the wrist and ankle cuffs attached to each bar, those lowest to the ground fairly far apart, Morgan knew better. Had he stood a woman in that spot, restrained her with legs spread and… Finishing the picture disturbed Morgan too much.
She put herself in the picture instead. And instantly, fresh moisture seeped from her sex.
Did she honestly like the thought of being restrained and toyed with? Of being locked in place, helpless to do anything but take the pleasure or pain Jack gave her?
Yes.