Wicked Ties

“This isn’t a game. It’s my life!”



“Exactly,” he growled into her ear. “Locals, not necessarily the trustworthy ones, will be out there tonight, seeing me with a woman they think is Alyssa. If you’re gasping and fighting and pushing every time I put a hand on you, they’ll know you’re an imposter. And if the man chasing you offers them money for information about a suspicious female…you’ll be an easy target to spot.”



And an easy one to kill. Jack didn’t say it, but he thought it. Just as Morgan did.



“Couldn’t I leave here as a bag lady or a nun or something?”



“Your gun-toting friend is going to be waiting, watching. Don’t you think the emergence of a nun from a strip club would send up a few red flags?”



He was right, damn it. She had to get a grip. If dressing like a stripper and letting a good-looking guy fondle her for a few minutes was all it took to keep her safe, she’d survive the embarrassment and the blow to her modesty.



There was just one problem: She reacted to Jack not like a decoy, but a woman. Her body heated for him with a few whispered words and a glance. Still, the embarrassment she felt for responding to him was short-lived, particularly compared to death. When this fiasco was over and she could find a new place to hide, she’d never have to see Jack Cole again or care that he knew he could arouse her.



Taking a deep breath, she let go of his wrist.



“Smart girl,” he praised.



Morgan sensed him, his watchful gaze over her shoulder as he turned his wrist until her entire breast rested in his palm. She swallowed. God, her flesh felt heavy in his hot hand. He hovered there, breath scorching the back of her neck. Tension ramped up in her stomach…and lower, tightening with an ache she wanted to deny—and couldn’t. Her nipples hardened impossibly under his hot gaze. Morgan squeezed her eyes shut.



Then he swiped a thumb over the taut tip. Electric pleasure shimmied down her spine.



Unable to resist, she arched, pushing her breast into his hand.



“Good girl,” he muttered in her ear, then grazed the sensitive curve of her neck with his lips.



Arousal tightened again, pulsing low and hard. Her heart pounded away like a hoard of hammering carpenters. She squeezed her thighs together.



His left hand joined the right, taking possession of her other breast in a hot swarm of fingers. She didn’t jump, but fought the need to squirm, as pleasure battered her senses with the double assault. It took biting her lip to hold in her groan.



Why did her body react this way to a man she didn’t know and who practiced a sexual life she didn’t participate in?



It ceased to matter when he pinched the hard pinpoints of her nipples between his fingers, rolling them slowly with erotic patience.



Need spiked in her belly, arrowing straight down between her legs.



“Jack…” she protested.



“Shh. You’re doing fine, cher. As long as you don’t act like I’m unfamiliar, we’ll be all right.”



All right? If he did that again, she’d be melting.



He didn’t. Instead, his right hand left her breast to glide down her stomach, lower, lower, until his fingers edged underneath the damp black lace of her thong and unerringly found her swelling, hungry clit. She gasped and tightened her thighs against him. God, he’d feel how wet he made her. This was ridiculous. He wasn’t going to touch her there in public.



“Don’t do that,” he warned, withdrawing his hand. “A tensing body and outraged gasps will give you away. Relax.”



“This isn’t necessary,” she argued, her voice strained.



He snorted a cynical sound. “Spoken like a girl who’s never run from a killer. He followed us here. Did you forget?” “No, and I’m not a girl.”



“Non? Then stop responding like one. It’s going to take a damn convincing act to get out of here in one piece. I’m trying to save your life, not steal whatever virtue you might have.”



“Wouldn’t this kind of behavior simply draw attention?”



“New Orleans isn’t the only place that celebrates Mardi Gras. The sun is going down now, and the party is about to start. Being too good would make us stand out in the crowd, cher.”



He was probably right. She had to trust him. She had no reason not to, since he’d kept her alive so far. “Sorry.”



Behind her, she felt him nod. “Spread your legs.”



Oh, God. Why? What did he have planned?



Morgan froze in indecision. If one finger brushing her clit sent shockwaves through her body, what might a whole hand do? Would he laugh if she orgasmed? As it was, she felt closer than she would have thought possible…



“If I need to tie you down to get you accustomed to my touch, don’t think I won’t.”



At his warning growl, a fresh wave of moisture gushed from her, coating her already swollen flesh. Oh, how mortifying. If Jack realized she’d responded to that threat... She shivered.



With surprising force, Jack wedged a booted foot between her bare feet and pried them apart. “Put your hands on the wall above your head.”



“What?”



Morgan struggled to close her legs, only to find Jack’s hard thigh between them. Lord, would he feel her juices leaking through the thong and onto his jeans? Think her weak or easy?



“Last time I’m going to tell you,” he swore. “Put your hands on the wall or things will get a whole lot more serious.”



More serious? What was left, besides having sex? Her body jumped in anticipation at that thought.



“You’re not listening… I guess you want to be tied down, Morgan.”



“No,” she snapped and put her hands on the wall high above her head.



But she wasn’t sure she hadn’t lied. The idea of bondage sounded primitive and tacky on the surface. Something only people who couldn’t respond to “normal” sex did. But in a handful of minutes, Jack had forced her to face her own fantasy.



“That’s better, but you’ve got to stop questioning what I say. I tell you, you do it. This isn’t a negotiation.”



That grated against her independent nature…even as it made the knot in her belly clench tighter.



“You’re arrogant.”



“And that isn’t going to change. You better start following directions, little girl, or there will be consequences.”



Morgan wanted to rail at him, deny that his power appealed to her. It would only start a fight they didn’t have time to finish. If she wanted to get out of here with her pride in tact, she needed to convince him she was ready to leave here and fool her stalker. And she needed to convince the people they’d see that she was completely familiar and comfortable with Jack touching her.



“You got what you wanted. My hands are against the wall. I know you’re going to grope me in public. I’ll keep any surprise or discomfort to myself. Can we end this now?”



“You’re not ready.”



“I’ll be fine.”



“So, if I do this…”



His hand slid back inside her thong, fingers circling her clit before dropping down to her slick opening. He pushed two fingers deep inside her. His left hand traveled down her stomach, then covered her clit.



Unable to help it, she gasped.



“See, you’re not ready,” he said and began massaging her clit, while the fingers embedded inside her toyed with her until they encountered a bundle of nerves Morgan hadn’t known she possessed. He rubbed there unmercifully, slow, insistent strokes ripping a scream of tingles deep inside her.



Orgasm raced toward her, like a car speeding through traffic lights to the edge of a cliff. Her channel clenched in weeping hunger around his fingers, her body begging for release. His teeth nipped at her neck again. Then he pressed himself against her backside, grinding an unmistakably large erection into the cleft between her ass.



At least she wasn’t the only one affected, she thought as her head lolled back on his shoulder, perspiration breaking out all over her body as his fingers continued to fill her, toy with her clit. Her chest heaved with every breath. This was insane. Madness! The edge of pleasure was killing her. When had she ever been so aroused so quickly?



The feelings built, until she felt pleasure fill her up, nearly to the exploding point.



Then he withdrew his touch, easing his hands out of the thong and onto her hips. “No coming, not unless I say so.”



Before she could stop it, a whimper escaped her throat.



Jack kissed her neck again, a brush of lips, a sting of teeth. “You’ll thank me later.”



Morgan couldn’t imagine why he thought so. Her body was so tightly strung. He’d aroused her so thoroughly, she was tense, her mind racing. If he touched her in public, she’d probably climax so viciously, she’d black out.



His hands grazed up her abdomen again, to her breasts. He fondled them, rolled her aching nipples between his fingertips once more. She arched into his hand, grinding her ass against the impressive erection behind her, biting her lip to hold in a groan.



He stepped away with a laugh. “Nice try.”



“Jack…” She didn’t want to beg. Really. But how was she supposed to keep her wits around the bad guys when her body ached so badly?



“Are you going to question me again?”



The tone of his voice told her that would be a very bad idea. But leaving her wanting like this was no better. Still, a glance over her shoulder at his suddenly forbidding face stilled the plea on her tongue.



“No.”



“And if I—” he reached down, into her thong once more and rubbed her clit with his finger— “did this…”



Pleasure shot through her again, fresh and ferocious. She whimpered and thrust her hips into his touch. So, so close…



Again, he withdrew. “Excellent. Now you don’t jerk away when I touch you.”



“You’re going to leave me like this?”



“You inviting me to do something about it later?” His low voice rumbled like gravel in her ear.



Jack liked to tie women down and own them, body and soul. The thought screamed through her mind. What the hell had she done?



Let him get away with anything, everything…



“Not a chance in hell.” She stiffened, trying to draw away from him.



“That’s too bad. I like little girls like you, all starch on the outside, all creamy on the inside. The thought of hearing you scream your throat raw while I fuck you turns me on.”



Oh, God. Her, too. “You’re the subject of an interview. That’s all.”



“You get that wet for everyone you talk to?” he mocked.



“Go to hell.”



With a chuckle, he swatted her bare ass with his wide palm. “Get dressed.”



Morgan started to whirl on him, take him down for revving her up, but then the sting in her ass turned to pure fire. Instead, she found herself biting her lip to hold another groan inside.



Just get your clothes on and get out of here. That will make all this go away.



Stomping past Jack, Morgan shimmied into an indecently tight purple leather skirt. Next she put on a matching leather bustier that emphasized her small waist and shoved her cleavage so high, it was practically a shelf. All the while, she felt Jack’s gaze boring into her back and the ache of the lust he’d created sizzling her body.



Finally, she wriggled her feet into a pair of black thinheeled boots with pointed toes. Shockingly, they were actually somewhat comfortable.



“Let’s get out this over with,” she spat.



He eyed her. “You ready for what happens when we walk out this door?”



“We’d be arrested if we did more than we already have in public, so it appears I’ve lived through your worst.”



He led her out the door with a smirk. “You think so?”



CHAPTER THREE



Jack made his way down the stairs, holding Morgan’s hand. He barely refrained from using the other the adjust the length of his hard cock in his jeans. Damn, the woman about made him bust a zipper.



After their episode in Alyssa’s bedroom, he knew several undeniable things about Morgan O’Malley: One, she had a body that called to him. The way she looked, felt, smelled—all of it reached him on a primitive level and urged him to chip away at her until she surrendered completely. Two, she’d be unbelievable to fuck. High breasts with sensitive nipples, a beautiful mouth and an unexpected independent streak that told him she would be both a trial and a triumph to the man who could tame her. Three, she had a wide submissive streak…and didn’t want to admit it. Her wet, nearly orgasmic reactions to his slightly—okay, way-over-thetop—demands that she become accustomed to his touch were very telling. Every time he’d threatened her with bondage, she’d gushed with fresh moisture. He’d needed a surprising amount of selfcontrol to withhold her orgasm and keep from plunging himself deep inside her cunt while she had it.



He knew a few other things about Morgan: She didn’t panic or surrender in the face of danger. She was scared, sure. Only an idiot wouldn’t feel at least a twinge of fear, knowing that a stalker who followed her across the country to end her life stood right outside the door. But Morgan had listened to his logic, pushed back when she disagreed with offered advice, and resisted his initial offers of assistance. Those facts told him a lot about her— and how to deal with her. Patience, persistence, a combination of tenderness and alpha demands.