Tangled Love

Chapter Thirteen

The silence in the wake of Jack's exit deafened Morgan. Down the hall, he slammed the door to the bathroom. Despite being strapped to the table, she flinched.

With a long sigh, Deke shoved away from the wall. Morgan watched him watch her as he drew closer, really understanding the feeling of a deer in the headlights. What must the man think of her, after she'd admitted she wanted him buried inside her clinging sex while Jack pumped her ass full of his cock? She was better off not knowing. Yes, according to Jack, Deke was into ménage, but still, what a thing to confess out loud. At least Deke seemed incredibly unruffled by everything...

Unlike Jack.

Her worst nightmare had come true; she'd given in to Jack and the submissive nature he swore she had, then told him her fantasy. And he'd freaked. Not like Andrew had. Jack hadn't called her a depraved whore and suggested she get professional help. But he'd been blazingly pissed. He couldn't have made that any more clear if he'd drawn her a picture.

God, she'd ruined everything! What the hell was wrong with her? If her ultimate fantasy shocked even Jack, she must be totally, terribly wicked.

Morgan resisted the urge to close her eyes and cry. She'd done that once before, after Andrew slammed her. Tears didn't do any damn good. Shedding them over this particular fantasy and all the associated problems wasn't happening again.

Jack himself had been swearing to her that her wants were perfectly normal and nothing to be ashamed of or embarrassed about. Liar, she wanted to shout. She saved her breath.

So much for all his assurances.

Damn it, these fantasies kept screwing up her life, wracking her with guilt, chasing men off. She had to move past them, get them out of her head. Somehow.

Deke rounded the table, and Morgan watched his progress, craning her gaze over her shoulder as he settled behind her without a word. He could see...everything. The long line of her spine. The wet heat of her sex swollen by Jack's touch. The bare globes of her ass. A fresh wave of mortification rolled over her, along with something else she didn't want to name. She closed her eyes.

Clamped at wrists and ankles, Morgan could do nothing but let him look and absorb his heat as he stood directly behind her. In exactly the same spot Jack had occupied mere minutes ago. Her breath hitched.

In silence, Deke leaned over her, blanketing her cooling skin. The soft cotton of his shirt and the hard muscles of his chest covered her bare back. Hard as iron, his jeans-covered cock burned hot between the cheeks of her ass. A spark of shocking heat, too strong to ignore, blended with her humiliation.

That alone had to prove how twisted she was. Why couldn't she just...turn it off?

His hot palm fell to her waist, settling in the curve with warm fingers that soon dipped down the swell of her naked hip. He nuzzled his face in her neck, and Morgan drew in another shaky breath. Oh God, what was he going to do? She was already stripped, bound—defenseless. The only things keeping him from violating her was a button, a zipper, and his conscience.

Jack's warning that Deke wasn't a nice guy rang in her head. Morgan panicked.

This huge blond stranger was going to touch her, seduce her. Fuck her. She couldn't do a damn thing to stop him. Fantasies of ménage aside, she didn't want it or him—not without Jack.

She tensed against her trembling limbs and warned, "Deke..."

Behind her, his cock only got harder. "Now I know why Jack is so crazy for you. You smell fantastic."

His voice was like a caress feathering its way down her spine in a sensual vibration. She shivered. Broad fingers clamped harder at her hip to keep her still.