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.
Last, if Morgan was Brandon Ross’s fiancée, she’d be wasted on the boring, uptight bastard. Brandon would ignore the needs he didn’t understand and couldn’t fulfill, fantasies Jack would bet his eyeteeth she had. Satisfying her fantasies required someone with more balls, tenderness, and self-control than Brandon ever thought of possessing. He almost felt sorry for Morgan. In fact, he might be doing her a favor in the long run…
But pity wasn’t going to stop him from getting his overdue revenge against the asshole who’d fucked up his life.
First, though, he had to get Morgan out of the club alive.
As they hit the door at the back of the dark strip joint, he dragged her through a curtain that led to a backstage area. Abruptly, the pounding music stopped and wild clapping began. A slender brunette with large artificial breasts wriggled her hips at the crowd of men shoving bills in her miniscule G-string. Morgan stared, clearly uncomfortable with that much nudity and touching with complete strangers. Good. Despite the fact he’d been to dozens of places like this, he wanted a woman willing and eager only for
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.
Last, if Morgan was Brandon Ross’s fiancée, she’d be wasted on the boring, uptight bastard. Brandon would ignore the needs he didn’t understand and couldn’t fulfill, fantasies Jack would bet his eyeteeth she had. Satisfying her fantasies required someone with more balls, tenderness, and self-control than Brandon ever thought of possessing. He almost felt sorry for Morgan. In fact, he might be doing her a favor in the long run…
But pity wasn’t going to stop him from getting his overdue revenge against the asshole who’d fucked up his life.
First, though, he had to get Morgan out of the club alive.
As they hit the door at the back of the dark strip joint, he dragged her through a curtain that led to a backstage area. Abruptly, the pounding music stopped and wild clapping began. A slender brunette with large artificial breasts wriggled her hips at the crowd of men shoving bills in her miniscule G-string. Morgan stared, clearly uncomfortable with that much nudity and touching with complete strangers. Good. Despite the fact he’d been to dozens of places like this, he wanted a woman willing and eager only for
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