Wicked Ties

A silent implication that she wanted more than he was willing to provide. The truth hurt, ripped her insides like an industrial paper shredder. But she’d done what she had to do. Lying wouldn’t work. Ultimately, the fall out would only be more painful. She’d be doing them both a disservice. Being engaged to Andrew without being honest for too long had proven that.



Besides, better that they crossed this bridge now, rather than later, after she convinced herself to stay and lie…and surely only grow more attached to him.



Would she ever be able to move past Jack? Looking at the tense set of his shoulders, his clenching fists, remembering the feel of that inky hair in her hands and that broad Cajun smile… Probably not.



Morgan sighed. “I’m sorry.”



She watched those broad shoulders lift in a shrug. “I wouldn’t want you to lie to me.” He turned and paced toward her again. “Don’t ever lie.”



But his eyes raged, as if the pain was nearly beyond his bearing. Morgan ached for him.



“I understand why you can’t—”



“Shh,” he whispered against her mouth. “You’re exhausted, and I just want to feel you, know you’re okay.”



Jack eased her down to the bed and removed the plush robe the inn had provided to reveal her clean, bare skin. He removed all his clothes and slid onto the mattress behind her. He lifted her breasts into his hands, thumbing her nipples. He settled his hard cock against the curves of her ass. But he made no demands. After tonight, she doubted he would.



“Sleep,” his whisper demanded.



Was he out of his mind? She pushed back tears, trying to relax, trying not to make him feel worse for what he wasn’t able to give her.



“I’ll take care of you.” Jack kissed her shoulder and nuzzled his face into the curve of her neck.



He felt good against her. With him, she felt warm, protected, aroused. Even accepted. It was all Morgan could do not to turn and tell the man she loved him, that she could do without that one fantasy. But with a lie between them, they had no tomorrows.



“Jack—”



“We’ll deal with it tomorrow. That’s a promise.” #



Jack flipped his phone shut just as Morgan emerged from the old-fashioned bathroom wearing a towel and an awkward smile. His gut clenched at the sight of her.



She looked so tempting with an emerald green towel shielding her fair skin and curves from his eyes. Knowing those blush pink nipples were bare under the scrap of terrycloth didn’t exactly calm his libido. With a dash of black mascara, her blue eyes looked vivid and huge in her uncertain face. A swipe of some amber-colored gloss over her lips emphasized the pillowy softness of her lips. That flame hair fell in a silken curtain halfway down her back, framing alabaster skin with little cinnamon freckles. She glowed.



And Jack wanted her so damn bad, he could barely take a single breath without thinking about having her bound and open for him, taking him in every way his twisted mind could conjure.



Had he made the right choice?



Too late now. What would happen, would happen.



“Feel better after your shower?”



She nodded, then looked around the room, bed with sumptuous jewel-toned comforter rumpled from nothing but sleep, hardwood floors gleaming, little area uncluttered. “They came to take the breakfast dishes away?”



“While you were in the shower.”



“Good.” She chewed on her lower lip.



“I just talked to Deke. He’s friends with local police.” He reached for her hand, hoping it would help steady her. “Your pal, Reggie, was arrested at about three this morning for trying to accost Alyssa in her club. Deke’s been to see her. From what he said, according to Alyssa, Reggie demanded to know where you were and was getting pretty physical about it.”



Morgan gasped. If it was possible, more color slid out of her face, leaving behind those blue, blue eyes wide with fear, disappointment, anger, relief.



“So I’m not in danger anymore.”



“Maybe. Maybe not. He won’t be in jail long, a day or two. And we don’t know for sure that he’s your stalker.”



“He had to be. No one else knew that much about where I lived, where I’d be. Photography is his passion. If he could make a living at it, I think he’d quit Turn Me On tomorrow. He has a volatile temper sometimes. I’ve heard whispers that he has a record… I’ve never known him to be violent or anything, but there’s no one else in my life with the ability to follow me here and take all those pictures in quite that way.”



It was possible she was right, Jack mused. Probable even. But he wasn’t about to take chances, especially not with her safety. He drew her closer, placed a soft kiss on her bare shoulder.



“I’ll know more later. I have an appointment to chat with him this afternoon. I’m hoping to wring a confession out of him, if he’s our guilty party.”



Her shoulders drooped. “I’m grateful to know that I have a few hours of peace in order to plan my next move, but it pains me to lose someone I thought was a friend. And…” She stepped out of his embrace. “I guess I’ll be leaving here, get out of your way. I— I… Thank you for last night, for keeping me safe again.”



Leaving? Not if he could help it. Not ever. “You’re welcome.”



Jack waited. She had something more to say. Her pensive gaze told him it weighed on her mind. Was she going to ask more questions about Kayla? Recant her fantasy? Tell him to get lost? Impatience gnawed on his composure like a rabid dog with a juicy bone. But he waited.



“Thank you for telling me about your ex-wife. I know it wasn’t easy. I appreciate you explaining… It was a relief to know you didn’t leave the playroom because the idea of a ménage was too shocking for you.”



He regretted her thinking that for an instant. Regretted it like hell. And he planned to make it up to her.



“Cher.” He crossed the room and took her shoulders in his grasp. “Nothing you say or do can shock me. Or make me stop wanting you.”



She lifted her face to his with a sad smile, one that told him she was holding back tears. And he, the man with control whispered about in hushed tones among D/s circles all over Louisiana, couldn’t wait another second to touch her.



Thrusting his hands into her hair, he anchored her underneath him and captured her mouth in a blistering kiss. He possessed, unable to stop himself, unable to temper his thirst to ravage her lips, make her melt and moan…and give in. Hell, he didn’t even try to stop.



Seize, devour, dominate. It was like a chant in his brain, over and over, as he slanted his mouth over hers. Sinking deeper into the heaven of her, he allowed his tongue to find hers and intertwine in an urgent dance of need.



Beneath him, Morgan moaned, the sound vibrating into his body. When had he not wanted her? When had he ever looked at her and not wanted to call her his?



And last night…he’d dreamed of her again. Not as he’d seen her on the wraparound porch of his little swamp cottage with the sun glinting on her hair. No. He’d dreamed of tomorrow, of her in his bed, wearing his pendant, submitting to the burn of his demands, accepting his heart the way he cherished hers.



“Cher,” he whispered against her lips. “J’suis fou d’te caresser.”



I’m desperate to touch you. He’d never said anything more true.



“Jack, we shouldn’t…”



He heard the catch in her voice, the regret. Damn, he had to change that. Erase it. Replace it with the sharp edge of joy, the raging burn of pleasure. With complete submission.



“This morning,” he murmured against the sweet curves of her swollen lips. “Give me this morning. We’ll sort everything else out later.”



Morgan looked up at him, her blue eyes so clear, like a bright December day. And just now, they telegraphed her uncertainty tangled with her need to give in. But that overthinking mind of hers made her hesitate.



“Morgan.” He dropped his voice an octave, leaned in, pressed his advantage. “Don’t say no.”



Closing her eyes, the long lashes fluttered down to pale cheeks ripe with a hint of a rosy flush. A self-recriminating smile twisted her full lips. “I’ve never been able to say no to you.”



Jack hoped to erase that word from her vocabulary, starting today. But first… they had to face her ultimate fantasy.



His ultimate nightmare.



Tension raked at him, scraping at his insides until he felt pissed and…what was the right word? Vulnerable. Yeah. His gut clenched. And he started to sweat.



Despite all that, he had to know, once and for all, if he and Morgan could make it.



In the back of Jack’s head lurked one haunting fact: Morgan’s total submission to him would hand him his ultimate revenge on a fucking silver platter—to have Brandon’s fiancée begging him to master her. Telling him that she loved him while clawing at his back and coming all over his cock. Sweet…but the idea of revenge now sat sour in his gut. Nothing about the way he wanted Morgan, about the need that turned him inside out and focused with unerring demand on this woman, had a damn thing to do with retribution. Morgan. Just Morgan.



She’d come to mean everything to him.



And if Morgan returned to Brandon after today, well…then his former buddy would leave his heart gutted and have the last laugh—again.



Damn, he wished he could avoid telling her the truth for just a bit, until he had time to assure Morgan of his feelings, of their rightness. She was still skittish, but he had to move fast or he was going to lose her.



“Stand in the middle of the room,” he commanded into the soft morning air.



Morgan bit into that plump bottom lip with her little white teeth. Her sweet pink tongue swiped across the surface next, and Jack imagined watching her drag it across the head of his cock. He engorged, biting back a curse at the way this woman got to him.



“Jack…”



No backing down now. He raised a sharp black brow at her, knowing she’d get his displeasure without a word.



“Sir,” she corrected.



“Give me this morning.”



With an obedient nod, she turned and made her way to the center of the room, near the end of the bed. She faced the disheveled bedding.



“Good girl,” he murmured as he moved toward her, their gazes locked, making his cock jerk with impatience, until he stood before her, facing the door. “Give me your wrists.”



For once, she complied without pause. And he couldn’t stop a smile from creasing his face. She’d come so damn far in just a few days. Not just admitting her nature, but giving into it. Morgan knew he intended to bind her, and she just…complied. With perfect obedience. With trust so pure, it sent a bolt of pride, along with a stab of hot need, straight through him.



“Very sweet.”



He kissed the soft spot where her neck and shoulder joined and enjoyed watching her shiver. Kissing his way down her arm, he nipped at the tender flesh in the crook of her arm. Her breath caught, and he smiled against her wrist, feeling her pulse accelerate against his lips.



Withdrawing a pair of leather hasp-style cuffs from the bag by his feet, which he’d placed there earlier, he attached one to each wrist. She didn’t say a word.



With a smooth glide of his palm under her towel, he teased her inner thigh with whispered fingertips, hovering oh-so-close to her damp heat, that sweet honey spot he couldn’t wait to taste. The starch began to leave Morgan’s posture, and when he tapped the tender flesh just below her pussy in silent demand, she parted her legs. He knelt to her and slipped on the matching thigh cuffs, buckling each in place.



Jack felt Morgan’s eyes on him, sharper than before, but he didn’t raise his gaze to her, not yet. He didn’t want to give anything away, and as fucking aroused as he was now… no telling what she’d read in his expression. Instead, he fished into the bag at his feet again and withdrew two velvet cords and set them on the hardwood floor between them.



Let her wonder.



Then…he unwrapped the thick green towel from her body, unveiling her lush curves—and sucked in a harsh breath of need. He left her completely bare, sunlight shafting giant golden rays through the room, making her fiery hair the color of a living flame and illuminating the alabaster skin of her shoulders, translucent breasts, and soft belly. And her ripe pink nipples.



She didn’t flinch, didn’t protest, being suddenly naked. The only reaction he saw was a adorable rosy flush spreading across the pale cream of her skin. So damn beautiful, naked and submissive and surprisingly self-assured. The sight of her made his cock swell more, jerk. He felt strangled by his jeans, by his need for her touch…



“Sir, where did that bag come from?”



And all the equipment. That’s what she wanted to know. He smiled. She shouldn’t be asking, but he’d indulge her this once.



“When I realized you were gone last night, I threw together a few things be to make sure that, when I found you, you couldn’t get away again.”