Wicked Ties

Had her body already learned to wait for his command?



“Lie to me again and I’ll stroke myself, come at your feet, and leave you to ache all night.”



Morgan swallowed, never doubting he’d do it. “Please don’t make me say it, sir.”



“Last chance,” he grated out, stilling his thrusts completely. “Or I’m leaving.”



She squeezed her eyes shut, grappling helplessly between her body’s needs and her fears. Would he judge her harshly? Would he think she was a depraved whore, too?



“Tell me,” he cajoled.



With a gentle pinch, Jack removed the clamps from her nipples. Blood rushed back into them, swelling them with a burst of need. Yes! Then the sensation rocketed down to her clit.



Just as it hit her there, he reached beneath her again, fingers hovering so close to her aching bundle of nerves, she could feel the heat of his hand. But still, he didn’t touch her clit. Morgan moaned. All she had to do was be honest about one itty-bitty secret and he’d give her the best orgasm of her life.



This was Jack. He understood her fantasies. Clearly, he had some of his own. He’d given her everything her body secretly desired so far. He would help her deal with this, too. She had to believe he would. Had to have trust…



“Two men,” she blurted as she opened her eyes to find Jack’s gaze in the mirror by the door.



Instead, she found Deke standing in the portal, watching them.



Her eyes widened. She bucked under Jack, trying to get away. But cuffed at the wrist and ankle, she wasn’t going anywhere.



Neither was Deke. He stood and stared as Jack tunneled into her ass. The heat of brutal arousal on his face, doubled with the thick spike of cock in his pants, burned into her. Deke’s blue eyes locked with hers, and pristine, pure need burst through her body.



She tore her gaze away, found Jack’s in the mirror to Deke’s right. Her gaze connected with his dark one. Locked in place.



“What?” Jack barked.



“I want two men.” The words tumbled out of her.



Jack grabbed her hips with renewed urgency and shoving his way inside again. “Fucking you at once?”



“Yes,” she managed to squeeze out on a pleasured moan.



A curse slipped out under Deke’s breath as he adjusted the very tight fly of his jeans. Morgan’s heart beat so hard, she barely heard it over the roaring.



“Look at him!” Jack roared, reaching around her to lift her chin, forcing her to meet Deke’s gaze.



And he stared back, his denim blue stare pouring over her bare flesh like hot acid, scorching her, as Jack tunneled in relentless, measured strokes in her sensitive back channel. She felt each hard inch and every vein of his cock, the heavy swell of his glans scraping past all her nerve endings as he shoved his way home, propelling her teeth-grittingly close to orgasm.



“You’d want Deke’s cock in your pussy while I’m deep in your ass?” he rasped in her ear.



Even the words cranked her need up so tight it neared pain.



“Yes, sir,” she sobbed, clawing at the table. The idea turned the burn between her legs into an inferno that was about to explode into a conflagration beyond her imagining. “God, yes!”



“Jack, get your fingers on her clit before the poor girl dies. She needs to come,” Deke pointed out, his voice calm and even, despite the arousal flaming from him.



“Don’t tell me how to fuck my woman,” he growled.



“You’re pushing her too far, too fast. She’s not used to this. You’re about to break her.”



Behind her, Jack snarled something distinctly unpleasant to Deke. But he took his friend’s suggestion. For that, Morgan thanked God.



The second Jack’s fingers touched her clit, the massive ache between her legs converged into a hard, dark ball of fire licking at her restraint, tormenting her very skin.



“Come!” he shouted.



The sensations concentrated, blurred with pain, burned from the inside out as she burst like a thousand suns.



Morgan screamed as she convulsed around Jack, clamping down on his cock. The sharp crest of the orgasm slammed into her, and her surroundings disappeared until all she knew was Jack and pleasure and a release so sublime, so perfect, she lost all sense of hearing, the need to breathe. Vision blurred. Her heart threatened to burst from her chest.



But she felt Jack’s hands tighten on her, felt his teeth in her neck, then the hardening of his erection deep inside her. A long, harsh groan tore from his chest.



He slowed. Stopped. Morgan slumped on the table, beyond exhausted. Still, she was conscious of Deke’s gaze hot on her body.



Worse, she felt every bit of Jack’s tension behind her.



Suddenly, he withdrew from her body, tore off the condom, and tossed it in the trashcan in the corner. “Son of a bitch!”



Jack threw Deke a filthy look as he padded to the door completely naked.



What…? Morgan watched Jack through stunned eyes. Where was he going?



Once he reached the threshold, Jack turned to her with a fierce, furious stare, as if she’d betrayed him somehow. His pain and anger singed her in that one glance.



Then he slammed out the door.



CHAPTER THIRTEEN



The silence in the wake of Jack’s exit deafened Morgan. Down the hall, he slammed the door to the bathroom. Despite being strapped to the table, she flinched.



With a long sigh, Deke shoved away from the wall. Morgan watched him watch her as he drew closer, really understanding the feeling of a deer in the headlights. What must the man think of her, after she’d admitted she wanted him buried inside her clinging sex while Jack pumped her ass full of his cock? She was better off not knowing. Yes, according to Jack, Deke was into ménage, but still, what a thing to confess out loud. At least Deke seemed incredibly unruffled by everything…



Unlike Jack.



Her worst nightmare had come true; she’d given in to Jack and the submissive nature he swore she had, then told him her fantasy. And he’d freaked. Not like Andrew had. Jack hadn’t called her a depraved whore and suggested she get professional help. But he’d been blazingly pissed. He couldn’t have made that any more clear if he’d drawn her a picture.



God, she’d ruined everything! What the hell was wrong with her? If her ultimate fantasy shocked even Jack, she must be totally, terribly wicked.



Morgan resisted the urge to close her eyes and cry. She’d done that once before, after Andrew slammed her. Tears didn’t do any damn good. Shedding them over this particular fantasy and all the associated problems wasn’t happening again.



Jack himself had been swearing to her that her wants were perfectly normal and nothing to be ashamed of or embarrassed about. Liar, she wanted to shout. She saved her breath.



So much for all his assurances.



Damn it, these fantasies kept screwing up her life, wracking her with guilt, chasing men off. She had to move past them, get them out of her head. Somehow.



Deke rounded the table, and Morgan watched his progress, craning her gaze over her shoulder as he settled behind her without a word. He could see…everything. The long line of her spine. The wet heat of her sex swollen by Jack’s touch. The bare globes of her ass. A fresh wave of mortification rolled over her, along with something else she didn’t want to name. She closed her eyes.



Clamped at wrists and ankles, Morgan could do nothing but let him look and absorb his heat as he stood directly behind her. In exactly the same spot Jack had occupied mere minutes ago. Her breath hitched.



In silence, Deke leaned over her, blanketing her cooling skin. The soft cotton of his shirt and the hard muscles of his chest covered her bare back. Hard as iron, his jeans-covered cock burned hot between the cheeks of her ass. A spark of shocking heat, too strong to ignore, blended with her humiliation.



That alone had to prove how twisted she was. Why couldn’t she just…turn it off?



His hot palm fell to her waist, settling in the curve with warm fingers that soon dipped down the swell of her naked hip. He nuzzled his face in her neck, and Morgan drew in another shaky breath. Oh God, what was he going to do? She was already stripped, bound—defenseless. The only things keeping him from violating her was a button, a zipper, and his conscience.



Jack’s warning that Deke wasn’t a nice guy rang in her head. Morgan panicked.



This huge blond stranger was going to touch her, seduce her. Fuck her. She couldn’t do a damn thing to stop him. Fantasies of ménage aside, she didn’t want it or him—not without Jack.



She tensed against her trembling limbs and warned, “Deke…”



Behind her, his cock only got harder. “Now I know why Jack is so crazy for you. You smell fantastic.”



His voice was like a caress feathering its way down her spine in a sensual vibration. She shivered. Broad fingers clamped harder at her hip to keep her still.



“Damn it, get me out of here!” she demanded.



“Shh,” he whispered into her hair, the pad of his thumb caressing down her hip a fraction. “Patience, doll.”



“Screw patience! Being used and abandoned doesn’t bring out my best virtues. I just want the hell out of here.”



Deke sighed. His free hand caught the latch at her right wrist. He repeated the process on her left. Then he eased back, withdrawing the solid heat of his body away from her back. He knelt and unlatched her ankles.



“Can you stand?” His gaze snagged hers, which shone with both mischief and concern.



He’d let her go? Just like that? Relief fell out of her in a shaky breath.



Morgan stood straight up and zipped her gaze over her shoulder to find Deke adjusting his fly.



“You’re gorgeous, and I’m still a guy.” A smile flirted with the corners of his wide mouth. “I’d never fuck you without Jack. Scout’s honor.” He held up three fingers in the Scouting symbol.



But he’d fuck her with Jack? Morgan shook her head at the ridiculous question. After Jack’s reaction to that very suggestion… She had a better chance of being nominated for sainthood. And her body leaping at the prospect…damned annoying and totally irrelevant.



She turned to face Deke, crossing her arms over her chest to cover her exposed nipples through the cutouts in the indecent bra. Deke hadn’t touched her…but she still wasn’t the sort of siren who stood basically bare-assed naked in front of virtual strangers.



“Um, thanks, but you don’t look much like a Boy Scout.”



“I wasn’t,” he admitted. “I just meant general principle and all. Besides, you’ve had enough for the night.”



In a flash, the evening replayed in her head. Jack coming. Jack cursing. Jack leaving.



Damn him! Granted, it wasn’t Deke’s fault—Jack should be taking all the blame—but he wasn’t here. Deke was the nearest testosterone-based mammal, so he’d have to do as her temper’s whipping boy.



“You think?” she shot back sarcastically as she stepped away from the table.



Her legs collapsed out from under her. If Deke hadn’t been quick to reach out and grab her, she would have fallen in an ignominious heap to the cold cement floor.



With a curse, he lifted her into his arms, up against the hard heat of his chest. “You have every right to be pissed at Jack.”



Morgan covered her swollen nipples with her arms and glanced up into the unreadable angles of Deke’s strong-boned face. “You’re not going to take Jack’s side?”



He glanced down at her with a scowl. “Hell, no.”



Spoken as if that should be obvious. Didn’t guys usually have each other’s backs, purely for principle?



With footsteps that barely registered on the hardwood floor, he carried her down the hall, past that closed bathroom door, to the bedroom, and set her on the rumpled bed. Gently, he drew the sheet up to her shoulders, covering her exposed nipples.



“Hang tight. I’ll be back.”



Frowning, she watched him turn and leave the room with a sort of military precision that shouted of his years in the army. He was a soldier. A warrior. Big and ready to fight. Ready to protect. Ready to fuck, so like Jack. But Deke seemed easier to talk to. Why did she want enigmatic Jack so much more?



Morgan sighed. Apparently, Jack flipped her switch because she needed more challenges in her life. She scoffed in the silence. Yeah, that was it exactly…



On those same, mostly silent footsteps, Deke returned with a small tube in his hands. He sank down on the edge of the bed and brushed the hair back from her forehead.



“I know you’re upset. Jack broke your trust. He made you a promise to care for you and your pleasure. Tonight, he didn’t do a great job. There are reasons. Jack will have to share those with you. Not my place to do it.” He shrugged and set the tube aside. “I can’t do much about how you feel inside, but I can help the outside. Sit up.”



Dazed as she sorted through all of Deke’s words, Morgan complied, holding the sheet above her breasts. Jack had reasons? What the hell reasons could he possibly have for hurtling her high into the sphere of pleasure then tossing her into the pit of despair? For making her feel like a freak yet again?