by Lora Leigh
"Bet me?"
Oh hell. She moaned at the excitement churning through her now.
"Clint, sex is supposed to be a participation thing." She was fighting to breathe, and thinking was quickly giving way to feeling as his fingers began to trail down her belly.
"Hmm. You get to participate, baby." His smile wasn't comforting; it was frankly sexual. "In plenty of ways." His fingers gripped the small gold ring at her belly button.
She stared up at him, seeing the savage features of his face as they planed out, tightened with the hunger that glittered in his eyes. His lips were full, mobile, eatable. God, she needed his kiss, his touch.
Her hips arched from the mattress as he pushed her legs apart, his hands smoothing up the threads of her stockings.
"I'm going to fuck you until you beg for mercy," he growled. "Until you're sweating, reaching, certain release is but a second away. And then I'm going to turn you over, baby, pet that pretty little ass, then show you just how good it can hurt."
She shuddered, feeling her juices spill from between her thighs as she stared back at him, wide-eyed, maybe a little locked. But definitely aroused. Too aroused. "Oh God ..." Her eyes fluttered closed as she felt his fingers slide through the saturated folds of her pussy, felt her clit swelling, her womb clenching. "Don't you torture me, Clint. I'll get you back; you know I will."
His finger pressed against her clit, rotated, and she swore she saw stars.
"It's not nice to threaten your Dom, baby," he growled before his fingers slid down again, then moved slowly inside her.
One. A smooth achingly slow thrust that had her fighting to breathe. He retreated seconds later, only to return with two fingers, stretching her, making her ache for more.
"So sweet and tight," he whispered, kneeling in between her thighs, his cock putting out heavily, the head almost a ruby red as it throbbed only inches from her desperate, willing flesh.
"Okay, I'll beg." She arched to him, only to have him retreat. "Dammit, Clint, this isn't fair. I'm a novice, remember? You're supposed to go easy on me. Fuck me, damn you."
"Soon." His fingers worked inside her again as his hand twisted, pulling a ragged groan from her chest. A second later it was a cry as his thumb raked her clit.
This was too good. A person could die of pleasure, couldn't she?
"Damn, you're wet, baby." His fingers slid free again. "Hot and sweet and wet. I think you're ready for me."
"Duh!" she snapped in reply, jerking at the cuffs. "God, Clint, let me go. Please let me touch you."
"Watch, Morganna," he crooned as he came closer, his hard hands lifting her hips high before he shoved a pillow beneath them, then another.
She was lifted to him, open, level with the thick length of his cock as the swollen head nudged against the folds of her intimate flesh.
Morganna was panting for air, desperate for oxygen as she felt the hard flesh begin to part her, pushing inside her. Clint's hands tightened on her hips as she watched him begin to slide inside her with slow, careful strokes. The hard wedge of flesh slid easily against her, stretched her until she burned.
"More." Her voice was strangled as her eyes rose to his. Please. Please, Clint, more. I need more."
"Are you begging, Morganna?" His eyes were narrowed n her.
"Yes. Yes. I'm begging. Please." She would do whatever he wanted. Just one hard thrust. That was all she needed.
"How bad do you need it, baby?" His hands slid to her thighs as he rocked against her, pressing farther into her, sending her senses spinning.
"Bad enough to beg, damn you," she cried out, desperate now.
"Bad enough to stand by my side at those fucking parties?" A short, hard thrust had her head spinning. She needed more. Just a little bit more.
"Yes! I'll stay with you. I'll fetch your damned drinks; I'll simper like melted butter. Just fuck me!"
One hard long thrust filled her to overflowing. She could feel every throbbing vein, every hard, thick inch, as she writhed beneath him, her body tightening, shuddering with the effort to come.
"I promise," she panted, fighting his hold on her hips. Please, Clint."
He came over her, hard, fierce, his hips moving hard and fast. She should have exploded. She could feel it, building, burning, the need to come raging through her as his cock stroked, plunged, working inside her with thick hot strokes. Uneven strokes. She could feel the sweat pouring from her body, the need racing across her nerve endings, tingling along her spine until she was screaming in need.
Only to have him stop. Her eyes snapped open as he pulled free before quickly turning her to her stomach.
"Clint," she cried out weakly as her hands clenched around the small chain, her hair tangling around her face. "Please. Please don't tease me like this. I promised. You heard me."
His hand landed on her ass, lightly. A soft little sting, controlled, heated. It wasn't a full slap, not even a smack. But it didn't stop. The hard pats delivered a soft burn, over and over again, until the fiery pleasure blooming in her rear spread to her clit. It pulsed, throbbed, pleaded, and demanded.
"Now, for this sweet little rear." His hand smoothed over the hot flesh. "Are you ready for me, baby?"
She was panting, gasping for air, and he expected her to talk?
"Answer me, Morganna, or I'll think you don't want me.'"
"Yes. Yes." The sound was harsh, hoarse.
"Good girl," he crooned, pulling his hands back.
A second later, he was working the cooling lubrication inside her. Morganna arched back to him as the single finger began to prepare her. It was easy, no burn, no bite. She had to grit her teeth to keep from begging for more.
Then there was more, another finger added to the first, scissoring inside her desperate channel as he worked more, then more of the lubrication inside her.
"So sweet and tight," he groaned as she felt him moving closer to her. "You're allowed to scream for me, Morganna," he whispered at her ear as his cock began to press inside the prepared entrance. "Just as loud as you need to."
Chapter 16
THE FEEL OF HIM TAKING her, possessing her in one of the most forbidden, intimate ways imaginable, sent Morganna's senses reeling. She had fantasized about it, :reamed about it. There wasn't a sex act she knew of that she hadn't imagined Clint participating in with her. But this one, it defied her perceptions of pleasure and pain. It wiped any preconceived notions of acceptance from her mind and re-placed them with this.
The feel of him stretching her, slowly easing into her an inch at a time, rasping over nerve endings she couldn't have known she possessed. Even after the experience with the sexual toy that first night, she couldn't have imagined this pleasure. This was blinding, furious arousal. Building. Over-taking her.
Eyes wide, her vision filled with the dark wood of the headboard and the slender chain that held her hands cuffed in place, Morganna fought to hold on to her sanity.
Heat built beneath her flesh, white-hot electrical fingers of sensations whipping from nerve ending to nerve ending as a low, keening moan left her lips.
"Stop fighting me, baby." His lips were at her ear, his voice a hard growl as one hand gripped her hip to hold her in place. "Push out; relax for me, Morganna. You can take me. Every inch, sweetheart." His breathing was as hard, as ragged as hers as he slipped inside more, stretching her until she was certain she couldn't take more, yet she did. Loving it, burning with it.
"Are you mine?"
Her hips jerked at his question, at the black velvet hunger that it reflected. Only here, only within the hunger and arousal he couldn't deny, did she glimpse the needs that raged beneath the surface of his determination to remain alone.
"Are you ... mine?" She repeated his question back to him, barely able to speak, but unable to hold back her own needs, her own desires.
His hips jerked as his cock pulsed inside her, flaying her tender nerve endings with blinding pleasure as he sank farther inside her, driving in those last inches with
a desperate, involuntary thrust.
"Sweet God. Morganna. Sweetheart." His head lay beside hers, his big body shuddering above her as she writhed beneath him. "Don't fight...." His hands were clenching and unclenching at her shoulder and hip as his voice became a harsh, primal growl. "Ah, baby. Don't fight it...."
Morganna heard her own cries echoing around her as liquid heat raced up her spine, sizzling at the base of her skull before surging through her bloodstream. Pleasure tore through her body, sending her senses careening with ecstasy> as the blend of fiery heat and exquisite pleasure tore through her womb.
Her hips bucked, driving him deeper, causing a groan to tear from his throat as he began to move. Deep, hard strokes. He wasn't gentle, but she didn't want gentle. She didn't need gentle. Arousal was like a demon clawing at her, throwing her higher, further into the excessive sensations ripping around her. She needed more. She needed all of him.
Tilting her hips, she used her internal muscles to grip his thrusting shaft, to caress him, to hold him to her as he drove inside her.
"Oh yes. There. Sweet baby ..." His voice was a hard rasp at her ear as she tightened further around him, fighting for orgasm.
He held satisfaction just out of reach, pushing inside her over and over again, his moans, his pleasure echoing at her ear as the hunger spiraled out of control.
"Please. Clint... I need ..." She could feel perspiration building between them, sealing them together as he drove inside her.
"Are you mine? Answer me, Morganna...." His deep voice was desperate, agonized.
Her chest clenched with the pain in his voice, the hunger and need he only loosed when the limits of his own control had been breached. And his limits had been breached.
Morganna arched beneath him, lifting closer, tilting her hips, and pushing her buttocks closer to the stalk of heated flesh pushing into her.
"Answer me...." He was close; she could feel the hard, fierce throb of his flesh inside her, the hunger that beat beneath the silk-covered steel.
"Answer me now...." His hand moved from her hips, tunneling beneath her body, his fingers rasping over the swollen bud of her clitoris.
"You ... answer me...." She tossed her head, fighting to hold on to her last measure of common sense. She was so close to giving in to him, to giving him what he needed, forgetting what she needed.
His thrusts became harder, delving past delicate tissue, stretching it to reveal hidden nerve endings, stroking them, sending brilliant bursts of light to explode at the edge of her vision as her orgasm grew closer.
His fingers rubbed around her clit, stimulating the already violently sensitive bundle of nerves as he pushed her past the brink of hunger into desperation, greed. If she didn't come she was going to die. She was going to explode; she would never hold on to the last measure of her heart if he succeeded. "Be mine, Morganna," he groaned, his voice rough. "Sweet Morganna..."
She screamed as his fingers trapped her clit, milked the engorged flesh.
"Answer me!" he snarled, his hips moving faster, his breathing harsh. "Now. Tell me, Morganna. Sweet God, tell me...."
"Yes!" she screamed out her answer. "As much yours as you are mine."
His fingers firmed. His strokes gained in depth and in rhythm. Smooth, hard strokes as his hand moved farther between her thighs, two hard fingers fucking into her pussy as the pad of his palm rasped her clit and the thick, hard intrusion in her anus began to swell, to throb.
Release came as a cataclysm that tore through her senses. Aided by the deep, heated jets of his semen spurting into her and the rough growls of desperate male satisfaction against her ear.
Pleasure consumed her entire body, whipped through nerve endings and cells, threw her past sanity and reality, and flung her into a realm of ecstasy she couldn't have believed possible. One she knew she would never know again without Clint.
HE WAS REBORN IN HER. Clint fought to find his breath, to find control that had been lost the minute he sank inside the heated depths of Morganna. The ultimate intimacy, the ultimate trust. And he was lost in her.
She was lax beneath him as he slowly withdrew from her, collapsing beside her as he struggled to breathe. His lungs labored to adjust to the sensations racing through his body- fuck that, his soul. She was touching him. Each time he touched her, each time he took her, she came away with another part of his spirit.
"This is dangerous," he panted, facedown on the bed, boneless, so weak he couldn't lift his middle finger if they were attacked at that moment.
"No, it's not," she muttered. "I'm dead already."
A grunt of laughter pulsed from him, unbidden, involuntary. She could do that to him, make him laugh whether he wanted to or not.
"We're going to kill each other at this rate." He lifted his arm lazily, activating the mechanism that released the cuffs at her wrists. The rattle of the chain against the headboard assured him she was free. But she didn't move.
His hand touched her shoulder, smoothed back to her raised hips. Her skin was like silk, heated silk.
"We need to take a shower." He forced himself to speak when he wanted nothing more than to sleep.
Morganna's irritated little mumble had a smile quirking at his lips.
"Come on, sugar girl." He forced himself to sit up, staring down at her with a little smile as she rolled from the pillows that had lifted her hips to him. "We'll shower and sleep."
"I'm hungry," she grumbled. "You have to feed me."
She rolled to her back, staring up at him with smoky eyes, her expression languid, sated.
"We'll order pizza."
"I want Chinese." A little frown probed at her brow.
He had an odd desire to roll his eyes at her.
"Fine. I'll order myself pizza and you Chinese." He shrugged as he stood up beside the bed.
"I might want a piece of pizza, too." A smile quirked at her swollen lips.
"Minx." He pulled her from the bed, swatting at her very delectable rear as she padded past him. "Shower. We'll argue rood later."
"I don't argue," she murmured as she glanced at him over her shoulder, a provocative little wink making his cock twitch. "I win."
Chapter 17
HOW DID SHE DO IT? She should have been angry, furious with him. He had forced acknowledgment that she belonged to him without giving anything in return. Without giving her what he knew himself. That he did belong to her. But she wasn't angry. She was ... herself. Giving. Confident. A complete enigma to him.
It didn't matter how many different ways he asserted his hold on Morganna or how many times she submitted to his touch and his hunger; Clint found himself more owned than owning. And he'd be damned if she acted like a submissive. The only problem with that was the fact that instead of dulling his needs, her defiance kept him challenged, kept him hungry.
She kept him, period. He couldn't remember a time in his sexual life that a woman had sustained his interest past the first few days. Of course, he should have been prepared for it. Morganna had been his greatest sexual fantasy for more years than he was comfortable admitting to. She held a part of him no other woman ever had, and that terrified the shit out of him. That fear of her hold over him was only growing. How was he supposed to walk away later when each day her hold on him only grew stronger? "Mmm, want a bite?"
He stared down at her, where she reclined against his back, wearing nothing but one of his T-shirts, as she lifted a bit of her Moo Goo Gai Pan to her shoulders and stared back at him.
"It's really good." She waggled her brows comically as he leaned forward and took the bite of chicken and mushroom that she held out to him.
So close, her eyes seemed to be filled with small starlights, glittering, gleaming, within a dark gray velvet backdrop. A small smile tugged at her lips and he knew the emotion he saw in her eyes. The very same emotion he had hidden from for ten long years.
"Very good," he agreed before leaning back and enjoying the feel of her resting against his naked chest.
She
was soft, relaxed. The overabundance of silken waves at fell from her head flowed over one of his arms and reminded him of the warmth he had dreamed of whenever he dreamed of her.
"Reno hates Chinese food," she said as she went back to the carton of food. "Steak and potatoes all the way for my brother."
Clint played with a curl of hair as he thought of all the times he and Reno had dreamed of a potato, let alone the steak, on some of the hair-raising missions they had been sent on. Missions on which the thought of a steak urged Reno home and the thought of Morganna urged Clint back.
" 'Nother bite?" She lifted the chopsticks and he leaned forward, taking it slowly.
He should be running like hell and he knew it He should jump out of the bed, dress, and get drunk enough to ignore the fever raging in his blood. And he would, if he weren't so damned relaxed. If every bone and muscle he possessed weren't just comfortable where they were. Supporting the bundle of dynamite that lounged languorously against him.
"Why did you go into law enforcement, Morganna?" Clint was almost surprised as the question slid past his lips.
The chopsticks paused above the carton as he felt her take a deep breath.
"I wanted to make a difference, too," she said quietly. "I hated secretarial work. Waitressing sucked. Law enforcement was there. And it taught me how to beat up on big, muscley guys." She shot him a smile over her shoulder.
"Reno's not going to be happy when he finds out. If Raven had done something like that without telling me, I would have been madder than hell." Or would he? Somehow, he wasn't so certain.
"No. You would have been hurt," she said with a thread of regret. "And he might be hurt. But I couldn't take the chance that he would pull me out of it. Or that you would."
And he would have; there was no doubt.
"I think of you sometimes when we're on a mission," he said, his brain seemingly disconnected from his common sense. "I think of you safe and warm, your eyes bright because you're mad at me, or because you're wanting me. I wouldn't have pulled you out because I was pissed. I would have done it because the thought of you hurt... upsets me."