The tight smile that creased his lips wasn’t comforting.
“If I had known the games you liked, Morganna, I wouldn’t have denied myself. The submissive scene doesn’t cater to happily ever afters, does it, baby? Maybe you’re not the starry-eyed little dreamer I thought you were. There’s no room in my life for dreamers. Just the sex. And that I can give you plenty of.”
Her heart wasn’t breaking, Morganna assured herself as she stared back at him. The pain splintering her soul wasn’t the result of the cold, unemotional declaration he had just made.
“And you think all I want is the sex?” she asked him, fighting to cover her pain as she watched him with a bitterness she knew she couldn’t hide.
For a moment, compassion flashed in his eyes.
“You’re young,” he said. “You think the nasty little games you’re involved in have something to do with your heart? That hunger inside you is a search for love? It’s not.” He dropped his arms from his chest and paced closer, wrapping her in his warmth and his own bitterness. “Don’t make that mistake,” he whispered as he moved behind her, his chest pressing against her back as he lifted his hands to draw her hair back from her neck.
“Forget it.” She jerked from him again, pacing several feet away from him before turning back to face him. “It doesn’t work that way, Clint. If you didn’t notice earlier, I already have a lover. Why would I need you?”
Craig wasn’t her lover. It was a role they played, nothing more.
Clint laughed at her declaration. “He’s never touched you.” He shook his head knowingly. “He’s never tied you down and driven you crazy with his touch. He’s never spanked that tight little ass or fucked it. I’d bet my life on it.”
Morganna felt her face flame, first with embarrassment, then with a need that bordered on violence. The image of her strapped to the bed in that room as Clint did all those things to her had her nearly climaxing in anticipation.
“God, your nipples just spiked beneath that shirt you’re wearing,” he said, staring. “You want it, baby. And you’ll get it. But I’ll get what I want first.”
“Not in this lifetime,” she snapped, turning and heading for the door. “Take your threats and shove them—”
She made it to the door; her hand even gripped the knob a second before a hard, forceful body pinned her against the metal panel. Her breath slammed from her chest at the feel of his erection pressing into her lower back, the sound of his breathing, hard and rough at her ear.
“You think you’re just going to walk out of here?” His hands gripped her wrists, forcing them above her head until he could grip both with his long fingers.
“Stop this, Clint.”
“Not on your life, Morganna,” his voice rumbled at her ear a second before his teeth gripped the lobe with a heated little nip.
What his teeth were doing was nothing compared to where his other hand had moved. To her thigh. He was pushing her skirt above her legs, his palm sliding over sensitive flesh until it cupped the hot, damp core weeping with need.
“Damn, you’re soaking wet.” His voice was almost a groan as she whimpered, pressing her head into the door and fighting for control. “You like to push me, don’t you? How many years have you been doing this, Morganna? Pushing me, growing wet and hot every time we’ve fought? Almost as wet as I am hard. You’ve been making my dick hard for nearly ten years now.”
His fingers were burrowing beneath the elastic of her panties, uncaring when it snapped from the force. Morganna didn’t care, either. Using one foot between hers, he forced her legs wider as his fingers moved to the saturated folds of flesh he found there.
Bare, smooth, recently waxed, every sensitive cell of her flesh shouted in pleasure as his fingers ran through the narrow slit, circled her swollen clit, then slid back to the aching entrance of her vagina.
She arched against him, frantic now as pleasure seared her nerve endings. It would take so little to bring release, a release that she knew for a while would ease the aching knot of hunger that burned for him.
“So sweet and hot,” he whispered, his mouth moving to the sensitive cord of her neck as his fingers massaged the small opening, encouraging the wet heat to flow harder from her core. “I bet you could come so easy for me, couldn’t you, baby? One hard thrust inside that tight little pussy and you’d explode like the Fourth of July. Do you want to explode, sweetheart?”
She did. Oh God, she did. She needed to. If she didn’t, she was going to die. She panted in anticipation as she felt his fingers move again, felt the touch of not one fingertip against her entrance but two. Oh yes, she was going to come so hard. Just one thrust. One hard, searing thrust and the hunger would be quenched.
But he didn’t thrust hard. He eased in. Morganna heard her own shattered cry as she felt the slow, heated stretching of her pussy, felt his fingers working into her with practiced, diabolical skill.
“God, you feel like silk. Hot, slick silk, Morganna.”
He continued to ease inside, filling her, burning her, driving the heat higher, hotter, but never stilling the flames.
“Please . . .” She couldn’t still the weak plea as he filled her, felt his fingers crooking a second before he began to rub that spot she could never seem to effectively manipulate.
But he was. With just the calloused pad of his fingertip he was sending blistering shards of nearing rapture to shoot through her nerve endings.
“You’re so close, Morganna,” he whispered. “I’m going to have you in my bed, those pretty thighs spread and my cock stretching you more.”
His fingers were wicked. Carnal. Destructive.
He slid them back, nearly pulling free before he moved inside her again. The same steady, slow entrance, the same diabolical caress when they reached the depths of her vagina.
She was shaking, shuddering with need now. Lust was a demon devouring her mind, the need to orgasm so pervasive, so imperative, now that she knew she was fighting a losing battle.
“I can feel you rippling around my fingers, milking them. Wouldn’t it feel so good, Morganna? Climaxing for me? Filling my hand with your sweet warmth?”
“Not fair. . . .” She was reaching blindly for that release, so close, so desperate for it that she felt as though she would shatter without it.