Touch of Surrender Read online

  His fingers tightened in her hair, his hips punching forward in a hard, reflexive movement, shoving impossibly deep, while a harsh cry ripped from his throat. She smiled, licking up that heavy, throbbing length, his hot, suede-soft skin stretched taut over rigid steel, and realized that there was simply nothing in the world as sexy as making the master of control completely lose it. Aside from Ashe, who’d always been incredibly gentle with her, she’d never chosen an alpha lover among the few that she’d had, preferring betas. Men she could easily control. But there was a hell of a lot to be said for going head-to-head with a man who knew what he wanted, and wasn’t afraid to take it. Demand it.

  “Finish it,” he growled in a raw voice, his blistering look one of primal command and savage desperation. He held her head compressed between his hot hands, his thumbs brushing the corners of her mouth. “Make me come, Morgan.”

  “Get the rest of your clothes off, first,” she whispered, caressing his mouthwatering length with a strong, possessive grip. “I want to see you. All of you. Every inch of skin.”

  Color burned across the bridge of his nose and his sharp cheekbones, his skin fever hot to the touch, all but steaming with barely restrained hunger. “Damn it, Morgan. Stop dicking around with me.”

  “I’m not. I swear. I’ll go down on you all night long,” she promised, her voice trembling with excitement, husky and hoarse, the sound of it making his eyes go dark. “Give you as much as you can take. But I want you bare, Kier. I want to be able to look at your body.”

  His nostrils flared, but he didn’t argue. He did as she said, though he didn’t treat his clothes with any degree of kindness, his jaw locked as he cursed a foul string of words under his breath and began ripping them from his body with hard, urgent movements. Her lips curled in a slow, satisfied smile, her senses humming with decadent pleasure when he was finally standing before her, sublimely naked, his body all sleek, solid muscle and beautiful lines, with a You’re gonna scream when I get my mouth on you look in his eyes.

  “Damn it, I can’t wait,” he growled, suddenly reaching down and grasping her under her arms.

  “I thought you wanted to come in my mouth,” she whispered.

  “Next time,” he panted, ripping at the drawstring on her sweats and shoving them down her hips.

  SATISFACTION THICKENED IN Kierland’s veins as her eyes went glassy, glazed with hunger, and he wanted to howl.

  Then she shocked the hell out of him by shoving at his chest, and they went toppling to the floor. He took the brunt of the fall on his back, the Navajo rug spread out in front of the hearth doing little to soften the impact, not that he cared. He could have been run over by a Mack truck, and he wouldn’t have flinched, his entire focus on Morgan…and getting inside her. She landed across his chest in a soft heap of smooth skin and womanly curves, then wiggled to his side, latching back onto his cock with that lush, wet mouth, the suction so good his damn eyes nearly rolled back in his head.

  “I told you next time,” he rasped, lifting his head so that he could watch her going down on him, her pink tongue flicking against the dark head with a teasing swipe, before sucking him back in. “Damn it, Morgan. I need to be inside you.”

  “You are inside me,” she muttered, her lips moving against the sensitive crown. “Face it, Kier. You just wanted me to stop because you didn’t like that you were losing control.”

  “I lose control every goddamn time that I touch you,” he growled. He hated it, but it was the truth.

  Maybe it was what had happened with his parents. Or the hard-ass upbringing he and Kell had suffered at the hands of their grandfather. Whatever the reason, Kierland had grown into a man who didn’t like situations he couldn’t be in command of—and God only knew that he’d never been able to command Morgan to do a damn thing.

  But he couldn’t deny that he wanted her, now more than ever, the want deepening with every minute that ticked by. He needed his fill of her, needed more of her, until he’d found some way to burn her out of his bloody system.

  Never gonna happen. Not even possible.

  The husky words slithered through his mind, and he ground his jaw, determined to ignore them—and it was amazingly easy to do, with her lush, provocative scent growing stronger, filling his head, his mouth watering for another taste of her.

  Reaching for her hips, Kierland pulled until she was lying on the floor beside him, her damp curls just inches from his mouth. With a feral growl, he shoved her legs apart, revealing the slick, candy-pink flesh of her sex, the scent of those glistening folds pulling a thick animal sound of hunger up from his chest. Spreading her open with his thumbs, he leaned forward, her mouth still wrapped around his cock, and lapped his tongue through all that sweet, melting honey, her taste hitting his system like a drug. One that already had him addicted, craving his next hit…and his next.

  He could have lost himself for hours, days, in the warm, honeyed sweetness of her slippery juices, the flavor so perfect, it was like she’d been made for him. Lashing the tiny kernel of her clit with his tongue, he shoved two thick fingers inside the delicate, softly pulsing opening, and with a startled cry, she started to come for him. Hard and wet and achingly sweet. He shoved his fingers deeper, loving the way she clutched at him, the rhythmic pulse of her cushiony sheath as she screamed against his cock, taking him even deeper, nearly shoving him over the edge, the pleasure so intense it was like a physical pain.

  Replacing his fingers with his tongue, he thrust into her, drinking her in, ravenous for her taste, while a dizzying spiral of questions kept working their way through his mind.

  How could something so bloody good be wrong? Why couldn’t he simply accept the past and get on with the future? Go down on his knees and beg this woman for a chance at what he’d always wanted…needed…craved?

  Stupid questions, when he already knew the answers. For one, he didn’t trust himself, and never would. And then there was the part of him that feared she was still in love with Ashe Granger. Hell, for all he knew, maybe she was only using him to make Granger jealous. Was he really the one that she wanted between her beautiful little thighs? Or was she just playing him? Would she go running back to the bastard if he asked her to? Kierland didn’t know, damn it, and the frustration of it was driving him out of his goddamn mind.

  With a deep, guttural growl, he reached down, fisted his fingers in her silken hair, and pulled her away from his cock. A second later, he had her on her back, her knees hooked over his arms, her husky cries filling his head as he buried himself about a mile inside her. Sweating, swearing, he pumped into her, slamming his hips against hers, driven by a savage, primal desperation.

  She was impossibly tight, still a little swollen from the day before, but wet enough that he was able to get in every hard, blood-thick inch. Bracing himself on his knees, Kierland grasped her hips and pulled her over his spread thighs, working her on his slick shaft, the erotic friction so incredible he was ready to explode on the first thrust. But he bit it back, refusing to go over until he had her screaming and clawing at him, her face flushed, her lithe body convulsing with deep, clenching spasms of pleasure. He channeled all his violent, frustrating emotion into the act itself, riding her harder than he’d ever dared with another woman, his fingers digging into her hips as he pulled her into his powerful thrusts, but he knew how strong she was. Delicate and feminine and beautiful, but tough enough to take what he gave her.

  She came again, her back arched with feminine grace as she convulsed around him in strong, clenching pulls, her damp hair spread out across the floor like a dark spill of liquid. Before she’d even caught her breath, Kierland had pulled out, turned her over and driven back into those hot, drenched depths, his arm wrapped tight around her hips, his left hand supporting his weight on the floor as he pumped his cock into her, going hard and deep with each lunging, hammering thrust.

  Bracing herself on her bent arms, she said, “You were right. You do seem hungry tonight.”

  “Always,�
�� he panted, his breath coming in hard, sharp bursts. “Always hungry for you.”

  “But it’s more tonight,” she said in a soft voice, lowering her face over his hand and pressing her lips to his bruised knuckles. “You’re…on edge.”

  “Sorry,” he gasped, painfully aware of the heaviness in his gums that signaled the release of his fangs. He tried to gentle the vicious, grinding rhythm of his body as he forged into hers, but he was too far gone, the blistering, fiery burn of pleasure melting him down.

  “I’m not complaining. Just…curious.”

  Heat climbed up his chest, burning in his throat as he said, “The dark.”

  “Dark?”

  “Being so long in the darkness,” he muttered, curving himself over her, his lips moving against the tender skin beneath her ear as he spoke. “It affects the beast. Affects my control. Don’t wanna scare you.”

  “You won’t. Do whatever you need to, Kier. I’m not afraid of you. I know you would never hurt me.”

  Growling, he kept her impaled as he picked her up, putting her over the side of the high bed. “Hold on,” he groaned, and then he covered her, his chest to her back, his arms braced on either side of her. His claws slipped free, ripping into the mattress and bedding, sending puffs of white fluff floating up into flickering firelight.

  MORGAN COULD FEEL HIM getting thicker, heavier inside her, the breathtaking penetration stretching her impossibly wide. She wanted nothing more than to open her mouth and say things, tell him things, that she knew should never be said. The feeling stunned her, and she realized that this, right here, was why she’d been trying to pick a fight with him earlier. She’d known it was going to tear her open. After watching the way he’d fought for her against Micah Sabin, she’d bloody well known that if he touched her tonight, all her shields were going to come crashing down. She was wide-open to him, liquid and soft and aching, desperate for everything he could give her. For every hard, angry, beautiful part of him. She wanted to shower him with tenderness. Kiss and hold and love him so badly the need was like an aching, bleeding wound in her chest. She’d have done anything for him, gone anywhere with him, if he’d have only given her the chance.

  But she knew that future wasn’t being placed on the table. Knew he viewed their time together as a means to an end, and so she bit her lip, choking back the words she wanted to tell him. Words that would lay her soul bare, giving him the power to crush and destroy her.

  “Too much of the wolf,” he growled, his body fever hot and slick with sweat as he pinned her against the bed with hard, hammering thrusts that jerked breathless cries from her throat. “Damn it, Morgan. I don’t wanna hurt you.”

  “You won’t,” she gasped, the tears stinging her eyes born from emotion, rather than pain. “I love you like this, Kier. It’s okay…stop worrying.”

  He made a raw sound, his claws digging deeper into the bedding as he rammed into her harder…faster, his hips pistoning that hot, massive shaft inside her. He slammed deep once, twice, shoving her body across the quilted bed, a harsh, guttural shout tearing from him as he started to come, his broad shaft jerking in thick, powerful bursts that filled her with searing heat. The breathtaking power of his release forced Morgan into her own shattering, screaming climax, the deep pulses of pleasure locking them together, their bodies steaming, chests aching as they struggled to drag in enough air. With a low groan, he retracted his claws and dragged her up onto the bed, pulling her against his chest as they lay on their sides. In the minutes that followed, Morgan realized that it was the quiet moments, the easy ones, that were truly devastating. Lying there beside him, listening to the heavy rhythm of his heartbeat, with his dark, delicious scent filling her head and his hot seed filling her body, was the most poignant, meaningful moment of her life.

  Closing her eyes, she tried to soak up as much of the blissful sensations as she could, and quietly asked, “How can you do it?”

  “Do what?” he grunted, while his hand smoothed its way down her spine, curving around her bottom.

  A deep breath, and she carefully said, “How can you touch me the way that you do when it’s only sex for you? Is it…are you like this with every woman?”

  His hand stilled, and he rolled onto his back, his voice tight with strain as he shook his head and said, “No. Never. Not even close.” Gruff, halting words that were scraped out of his throat. “It’s you. You’re…different.”

  Lifting up onto her elbow, she locked her gaze with his, seeing the caution in the pale green, and knew he didn’t want to have this conversation. But she couldn’t stop. She had to know. “Different how?” she asked.

  He swallowed, and his breath rattled between his parted lips, his color high…his eyes shadowed with emotion. She didn’t think he was going to answer, and then he slowly rasped, “Different in every way there is, Morgan. In every goddamn way that matters.”

  “I want to tell you something important, Kier.” Her voice shook, and she could feel the uneasy tension quivering in his muscles. “But first, I need to ask you a question.”

  His auburn hair fell over his brow as he gave her a wary nod, waiting to hear what she would say.

  “What would you have done if Ian had said yes?”

  His eyebrow twitched, and he tore his gaze from hers, staring up at the dark beams of the ceiling. “Honestly?” he grunted, his jaw hard.

  “Please.”

  He lifted his hand, scraping his palm against his shadowed jaw, and muttered, “I’d have had to kill him. Even though I thought at the time that you were his last chance to do what was right, there isn’t a chance in hell I’d have let him touch you.”

  A soft, shivery sigh of relief spilled from her lips, and she snuggled against him, her cheek pressed to the muscled warmth of his chest.

  “I answered your question,” he rumbled a moment later, the fingers of his left hand stroking the length of her spine. “So what did you want to tell me?”

  Morgan didn’t know if her confession would change anything between them. And she would still have her secrets. Emotional armor that would shield her heart. But she needed to tell him this one thing. Needed for there to be at least one truth between them. “I didn’t…I didn’t sleep with Ashe because I was ordered to.”

  There was a perfect stillness within his body, and then he shuddered, the tremor moving through his long frame like a rolling, ground-shaking quake. His breath became rougher…deeper, his voice a raw, guttural slash of sound. “What in the hell are you talking about?”

  “The truth is that I’ve never taken an assignment from the Consortium that required me to use my body, and if they’d ever tried to force me, I would have quit in a heartbeat. And I certainly wouldn’t have needed to do something like that with Ashe. He was more than willing to go after those bastards who killed Nicole,” she offered in a quiet confession, her mouth trembling with emotion and relief. “I didn’t need to sleep with him for his help or to make him more cooperative.”

  His reaction was instantaneous, his big hands gripping her shoulders, pushing her to her back as he loomed over her. “Why did you do it?” he growled, his dark expression revealing raw, visceral torment. “Jesus, Morgan. All these years, why have you let me believe a lie? What the hell were you thinking?”

  “Once you made your assumption, I didn’t see any reason to set you straight,” she explained, taking a deep breath for courage. “And I think it was easier, somehow, letting you think the worst, Kier. Because you were right about me wanting you. I did. And I guess I felt that if you hated me, then it would make it easier to stay away from you. That I wouldn’t ever be tempted to come begging for your attention and find myself humiliated in the process.” A wry smile touched her mouth, and she added, “I just didn’t realize that you would still be holding it over my head a decade later.”

  He shook his head a little, his expression dazed. “And now?” he asked, his voice thick. “Why tell me the truth now?”

  “I’ve been pissed at you for a lon
g time,” she said in a soft voice, lifting her fingertips to the heated curve of his cheek, “but I’m…well, I’m not so angry now. And it would be good if we could be friends, when this is over. I’d like to leave the Watchmen knowing that I was on good terms with you.”

  KIERLAND SHOOK HIS HEAD, unable to believe the words he was hearing. She wanted to be friends with him? As in freaking pals?

  Christ.

  “Would that be so hard?” she asked, her small smile hitting the center of his chest like a physical blow.

  “What’s hard is keeping my hands off you,” he muttered, pulling her under him. He half expected her to tell him no, that she’d had enough already—but she didn’t. Instead, she sank her fingers into his hair and lifted up to him, licking into his mouth with a hunger that perfectly matched his own. They were both starving, desperate, as if they could feel their time together slipping away with each moment that passed by.

  He kissed her harder, deeper, and began feeding his cock back into that deliciously hot, tender sheath, his hands touching every part of her that he could reach. He loved the lean play of muscle beneath his palms, her skin a sensuous assault on his senses. Everywhere he touched her she was smooth and soft and sleek, drugging him with pleasure, and he couldn’t resist running his tongue over the damp patches of her skin. Beneath her ear. Across her shoulder. The curve of her breast. The inside of her elbow. He could have spent hours exploring her, making love to her. Days. Weeks. Years. It wouldn’t matter how long he had; it would never be enough.