He groaned her name, fed a feral growl into her mouth, and pulled one hand from her hair. His fingers touched the curve of her cheek, trailing across her jaw, the sensitive side of her throat and down the front of her sweater before curving around her breast, his thumb finding her beaded nipple and rubbing it with a strong, aggressive touch. Shivering, Morgan curled her hand around the back of his neck, where hot, silken skin met the short, damp layers of his hair. The heat of him burned her palm, and he shuddered beneath her touch, thrusting hard again, his hand shaping her breast. His tongue slid suggestively against hers, the kiss turning savage and raw, and then he tore his mouth away with a low, guttural curse.
Pulling back, he shot off the bed, his hands fisted at his sides. His chest heaved as he stood at the foot of the mattress, staring down at her with the force of all the fires in hell. He looked tormented…in pain, his voice a graveled rasp as he said, “Gotta slow down.”
Morgan pushed up onto her elbows, her hair hanging over one side of her face. “What? Why?”
“Because I’ve waited too long for this to have it be over in a matter of seconds,” he said between hard breaths, his hands fisting and flexing, his muscles hard and thick beneath his sweater and jeans.
Morgan wanted to see him naked. Desperately. And Kierland apparently wanted the same thing, since his next words were, “Take off your clothes.”
She started to sit up, but he shook his head, saying, “No. Right there. Lying down. I want to watch you strip like that.”
Her breath caught, but she lowered her back to the bed, and began to do as he said, reaching for the hem of her sweater and pulling it over her head. Her movements were clumsy with nerves, no practiced striptease to lure him with her feminine grace, but he didn’t seem to mind. He didn’t move, except for that flexing of his hands, as if he was fighting the urge to reach down and grab her, and Morgan had never, in her entire life, felt more desirable than she did in that powerful, intensely provocative moment.
Crazy, to think that she would experience this height of feeling with the one man she’d been so sure would never lay a hand on her.
“You on the pill?” he grunted, his molten gaze locked on her fingers as she began to open the button fly on her jeans.
“Yes.”
He didn’t have to ask about tests or blood work, and neither did she, since sexually transmitted diseases didn’t affect their species. So with the question of birth control out of the way, they were free to indulge. As Morgan pushed her jeans down her thighs, kicking them away, she thought she might die if he didn’t get started. She felt charged, like some kind of electric current was surging through her veins, unable to take her hungry stare off the startling, mesmerizing sight of his heavy erection bulging against the denim of his jeans.
Reaching for the front snap on her bra, she said, “I want your clothes off, too.”
He gave a sharp nod, his gaze glued to her breasts as she bared them. He reached for the hem of his sweater and all but ripped it over his head.
“Lose the underwear,” he rasped, jerking his chin toward her black bikinis.
Pulling her lower lip through her teeth, Morgan hooked her fingers in the waistband of her panties and started shimmying them down her thighs, her attention focused on his hard, bare torso. She took a moment to drool over the outrageous beauty of his chest, dazzled by the golden skin stretched tight over solid slabs of muscle, the scattering of scars only adding to his rugged perfection. She loved his dark brown nipples and the jut of his hip bones, but his abs were her favorite. She wanted to run her tongue over the deep grooves, kissing her way down that silken trail of hair that arrowed toward his groin, disappearing beneath the ragged waist of his jeans.
She tossed her panties over the side of the bed at the same instant his strong hands began undoing his fly, and Morgan simply forgot how to breathe.
It was impossible to look away from him—not that she wanted to. Her pulse roared in her ears as he shoved the denim down his hips, along with a pair of white cotton boxers, and all she could do was stare at the thick, heavily-veined length of his cock as it rose up high against his stomach, her mouth hanging open, her face burning with heat. She knew she shouldn’t have been so surprised by his size, considering Kierland was massive everywhere. That dark, mouthwateringly male part of him was merely in proportion to the rest of him, but even so, she was fairly certain she was having some kind of awe-induced heart attack.
“Get higher on the bed,” he rasped. “Right in the middle.”
He gripped himself with a rough hand, stroking the heavy length of his cock as she clumsily scooted back, sliding along the quilted comforter. Morgan licked her lips, wanting to touch her tongue to the dark, bruised color at the head of his shaft. Wanting to take him into her hand and feel that hot, velvety skin against her palm. Feel the pulse of his blood in that thick knotwork of veins.
He jerked his chin toward her again, and said, “Now spread your legs. Let me see it.”
“You like to give orders, don’t you?” she whispered, shaking, unbearably aroused by his aggressive attitude. Morgan never would have thought it possible, but it seemed that getting bossed around in bed by a gorgeous Lycan really did it for her.
Or maybe it was just getting bossed around in bed by the outrageously sexy Kierland Scott. Which meant that she had some serious issues. He might be staring at her like he wanted to eat her alive—like he couldn’t wait to find out how she tasted, everywhere—but she needed to remember that this was just sex for him. A way for him to satisfy his curiosity about what he’d never had, so that he could put it behind him and move on. She couldn’t afford to get lost in emotion. She couldn’t afford any emotion at all.
“Do it, Morgan.” His husky, rough-edged voice slipped into her system like a drug, mesmerizing her senses. “Spread your legs for me.”
Her breath hitched with some kind of soft, embarrassing girlie sound as she lifted her knees in an explicit pose, showing him the wet, pink flesh between her thighs. His eyes narrowed, his thick lashes leaving spiky shadows on his carved cheeks. His body seemed to expand, his skin stretched tight over all those hard, coiled muscles.
The way he stared…it was like she’d shown him something priceless. Something precious and dazzling.
Needing to say something before she started crying, and God would that have been embarrassing, she told him, “I’ll let you boss me around for now. But I get my turn eventually. Just be warned, you’re not the only one who likes to take control.”
The corner of his mouth twitched with a grin. “Strong women happen to turn me on,” he rasped, the husky words feeling like foreplay. “I’ll let you have your turn.”
He settled onto the foot of the bed then, and Morgan tried to stay calm. But God, it wasn’t easy. She hadn’t done this in a long time, her interest in sex waning over the years. Not that she’d ever been a prude. She’d just been…picky about her partners. And when they wanted to get serious, that had been her clue to walk away. Unfortunately, that meant that she now felt shaky and out of practice, everything he did shocking her to a bright, nervous awareness. The intimacy of having Kierland Scott pressing his mouth to the inside of her bent knee, and higher, against the pale skin of her inner thigh, had her shivering and strung tight with breathtaking excitement.
He moved higher, crawling over her body like something stalking its prey, and Morgan made a sound that she’d never made before. Something low and thick, like a purr, the erotic hum making him pause. It was obvious from the heat in his eyes as he slid a blistering look up at her face that he’d liked it. A lot.
As he lowered himself over her, she felt his shocking heat and his hardness, and knew, in that moment, that there was no going back. He was all over her, his hands, his mouth, the delicious weight of his huge body pressing her down, while his male scent made her head spin. Her breath was jerking so sharply it made her chest hurt, but she didn’t care. All that mattered was getting more of him…all of him.
His fingers shaped themselves around her skull again as he kissed his way into her mouth, his body so hard and hot and strong, his taste rich…drugging, making her writhe. The strangest sensation of bursting from the confines of her body spread through her, and yet, she was still there…still whole. But it was like a switch had been flipped inside her mind, and Morgan could suddenly feel everything he did, every touch…every brush of his fingers and his lips, more sharply than she’d ever felt anything before.
He fisted his hand in her hair and pulled back her head, dragging kisses along her arched throat, his breath uneven and loud in the quiet shadows of the room, same as hers. And then he started to kiss his way down the front of her body. He flicked his tongue against the rapid flutter of her pulse in the base of her throat, his mouth warm against her skin as he placed kisses across her chest, then lower. As he ran his lips along the curve of her breast, stroking the damp heat of his tongue across one painfully tight nipple, she cried out, the sharp sound becoming a low moan as he reached between her legs with those long, wicked fingers, knowing just where to rub and stroke and tease. She was already drenched, burning for him, trembling with need.
Lifting his head, Kierland locked his gaze with hers as he pushed two fingers inside the tight, slippery clench of her sex, gently thrusting the hard knuckles back and forth within the small, swollen opening. “You’re tight,” he grunted, his hot breath brushing against a sensitive nipple. “Feels incredible. My hand’s in heaven.”
Aware of the warmth beneath her skin, Morgan turned her face into the rumpled bedding. God, it was crazy, how shy she felt. She wasn’t innocent, for God’s sake—and yet, she felt like they were going someplace she’d never been before. That something unfamiliar and unknown lay on the other side, waiting for her, and she was…worried. About what she would find when they got there.
About being left there alone.
And what was truly frightening was how easily he seemed to read her, as if he was right there inside her mind, picking his way through her thoughts.
“Stop thinking,” he rasped, his warm lips moving against her nipple as he spoke. “Stop worrying. I don’t want anything else in this room but the two of us. Not the past. Not…anything.”
Not the future, either, she thought, but she bit back the words. She wasn’t an idiot. She craved him…and if this was all she could have, she was damn well greedy enough to take it.
He moved farther down, placing kisses and gnawing bites against her skin as he worked his way along her body, until he was kneeling between her thighs, his shoulders solid and broad and roped with muscle. She could feel the press of his hot gaze as he spread her with his thumbs, his breath warm and moist against the slick, sensitive folds.
“Beautiful,” he whispered, just before he lowered his dark head and took a long, lingering lick. Her groan blended with his deep, guttural growl, and her back arched as he went at her again, licking and lapping as if he’d found something delicious to devour. Something he needed to get more of. Squeezing her eyes shut, Morgan figured she should have known he’d be amazing. He gave oral sex in a way that left no doubt about the fact that he was enjoying it, taking as much pleasure from the erotic act as he gave. His strong hands pressed her knees to the bed, holding her open in a blatantly explicit pose, while his mouth ate at her like he was starved for her taste, his tongue lashing against her clit with hot, wet strokes, before thrusting inside her. She choked out broken, sobbing phrases that didn’t make any sense, her hands finding the damp, silken locks of his hair and holding tight.
Kierland muttered something dirty and gruff and impossibly sexy about her taste, the provocative words buzzing in her ears. Then he pushed two thick fingers as deep as she could take them, and Morgan was gone. Flying. Screaming. Completely destroyed, the violent pulses thrashing her with pleasure, leaving her damp and pink and wrecked, her arms and legs flung wide, while she struggled to draw in a decent breath. It took a few seconds, but when she finally managed to crack open her heavy eyelids, she saw him lifting his glistening fingers to his mouth…and licking them with his tongue.
His throat worked as he swallowed. “Like I said before. Incredible.” He sounded drunk, though he’d had only one beer with their meal. But his husky words were pleasure slurred at the edges, his eyes drowsy and hot with fever as he looked up at her, a fine sheen of sweat covering his face and shoulders and throat. A single lock of auburn hair fell over his brow, and Morgan reached down to push it back, threading her fingers through the warm, silken strands.
“I think that’s my line,” she said unsteadily, horrified to feel the moisture on her face, the salty taste of tears at the corner of her mouth.
“So strong,” he murmured, leaning over her as he stroked one callused palm along the inside of her thigh, then over her hip, up along her side. When he reached her face, he rubbed his thumb against the edge of her trembling mouth, and leaned down, pressing the hot silk of his lips against the corner of her eye, where the tears were flowing freely. “But you’re not as hard as you pretend to be, are you?”
BEFORE MORGAN COULD GIVE him an answer, Kierland pressed the straining head of his cock to her warm entrance, and pushed deep, shoving hard, with all his strength, unable to wait a single second more to be a part of her. Her scream instantly filled his ears, her body clasping him in the tightest, sweetest hold he’d ever felt. She was smaller than he’d expected, almost virginal, though he knew damn well that she wasn’t.
But Morgan obviously hadn’t done this in a long time, and he didn’t know what to think of that. He’d have pegged her as having a different lover every week, but…he’d have been wrong, and he cursed something hot and gritty under his breath, hating that he might have hurt her.
Lowering his head, he nuzzled his mouth beneath her ear. “You okay?”
“F-fine,” she whispered, and though her voice shook, he could tell that she was trying to sound strong. “I’m fine.”
“Did I hurt you?” he asked, lifting his head so that he could see her face.
“Just caught me a little off guard,” she murmured, and he smiled, knowing she’d rather cut out her tongue than admit a weakness to him. But the smile fell as she lifted her hand to his damp face, her fingertips lingering against his hot skin. “I should’ve known you’d be a lot to handle,” she said huskily, widening her knees with a voluptuous little movement that took him even deeper.
“Damn it,” he growled, shaking, shocked to realize that his control was already shot to hell.
Kierland managed to hold still for all of another ten seconds, letting her get used to the feel of him…and then he lost it.
With a primal, animalistic snarl on his lips, he covered her mouth with his, swallowing her sharp cry of surprise as he pulled back his hips, dragging his shaft through the drenched clasp of those tight inner muscles. Then he drove back in with a powerful thrust, putting all his strength, all his power behind it, shoving into her the way he’d spent the past decade dreaming of entering her, penetrating her, the pleasure so intense it was a sharp, physical ache.
He couldn’t get over how it felt to be inside her. A part of her.
Incredible didn’t do it justice. Nor did amazing or wonderful or any of the other adjectives Kierland had heard people use to describe good sex. He loved how the slightest brush of his mouth against her damp skin made her clench around him. How the barest brush of his callused fingertips over her nipples brought the most sensual arch to her back. She was so responsive…so sweet, that he couldn’t control it. He gave it to her rough and raw, pumping into her with more hunger and aggression than he’d ever shown with any other lover. But then, this was Morgan. The one he’d always wanted. The woman he thought about every time he took another female beneath him. He couldn’t control his body or temper his body’s craving. He was too far gone, completely strung out on the bliss-drenched feeling of shoving himself into her hot, slippery little sex.
Release was bearing down on him, unstoppable and huge,
but he forced it back, needing to feel her coming around his cock—soaking him, sucking him in, all those cushiony muscles fluttering around his shaft in strong, voluptuous pulls. He needed to be buried inside her, thick and deep, when she crashed over the edge. But she was fighting it…straining against release, doing everything she could to hold it back.
“Let go, damn you.” He licked his thumb and reached down, between their bodies, rubbing the callused pad against her clit, and she trembled, writhing, her short claws digging into his arms, drawing blood. “Don’t you dare try to hold back on me.”
“I won’t,” she gasped, her eyes heavy-lidded and dark with passion. Kierland took his thumb from her clit and caught her behind her knee, pulling it up so that he could sink even deeper, and suddenly her mouthwatering scent was becoming even richer, filling the air, and he knew her shields were dropping as she lost control. With his next thrust, he buried every thick, rigid inch of his cock inside her, grinding against her clit, and then she was coming, convulsing around him in strong, gushing pulls. It was all he could do to keep from following her over.
Not yet, damn it. Not yet.
Gritting his teeth, the Lycan fought it down, determined to make it last. He was spellbound by the tears he could see glistening in her eyes. She looked so soft…so fragile, the toughness of the warrior ripped away to reveal the tenderness of the woman she always tried so hard to hide. It was beautiful, breathtaking, and now that he’d found it, he wanted more.
Burying his face in her silken hair, Kierland admitted to himself that while he was damn proud to fight beside her as a colleague, it was this deliciously soft female that he wanted in bed with him, and he knew he’d do whatever it took to get her beneath him again.
She whispered his name, and he lifted his head, staring into her eyes as he rolled his hips, moving in slow, lunging thrusts that drenched him in pleasure, her body tight and warm and impossibly tender.
Touch of Surrender Page 13