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sliding her hands into the slippery coolness of his hair, holding on for balance and dear life while his hot mouth ravaged hers.
His tongue stroked, probed, plunged, distracting her from the play of his hands, the heel of his palm on the exposed side of
her breast, his fingers splaying on her naked back. She arched closer, wanting more. Demanding more. He murmured
encouragement, molding her hips to his, his erection pressing long and thick against her stomach. She forgot to breathe.
He released her, turned her, so that she faced the slope, and gave her a little push. “Up.”
She stumbled, dazed. He steadied her, urging her up the steep grass bank, supporting her with a touch at her back, even
boosting her with a firm hand on her butt when she slipped.
At the top of the embankment, she drew breath. Below, the long, low barracks gleamed through the cover of night and the
trees. The sky above was suffused with dawn and possibilities. She filled her lungs, holding the moment inside her until a cold
wind skipped from the harbor, making her shiver.
What was she doing here?
Morgan wrapped an arm around her waist. “This way.”
He led her to the shelter of a low stone wall and a dappled hollow under the trees. No turning back. Where could she go?
She‟d never make it over the moat again.
He stopped and cupped her face in his hands, drawing her close. She was aware of him all along her front, the places their
bodies brushed and even where they didn‟t. Breasts, belly, thighs. With the pad of his thumb, he traced her eyebrows and the
line of her cheek before resting his hands lightly, easily, around her neck.
Liz swallowed against the faint pressure of his fingers, her breathing loud in her ears.
He stroked his thumb lazily up the side of her throat to the sensitive hollow just below her jaw. Her pulse throbbed under
his touch. “You are nervous,” he murmured.
“This is nuts,” she said. “I don‟t even know you.”
“You know what you want.” He watched her with those odd, pale eyes, those deep, dark centers swallowing her up. “Take
what you need. You are starving for life. How long will you ration yourself, tasting life in tiny sips, in careful bites? Always
hungry.” He laid warm lips against her neck, his silken hair brushing from her chin to her collarbone. “Never satisfied.”
His voice moved like a drug through her veins. Her head fell back in heavy acquiescence as he nibbled his way up her
throat, making her lips want and wait, making her breasts ache for his touch. She squeezed her thighs together to ease the
awful emptiness there.
He rubbed a kiss against her mouth.
“I could satisfy you,” he whispered and bit her lip.
She moaned and shuddered against him, falling helplessly into his kiss, under his spell, against his body. He slid his palms
down to cup her buttocks and ground slowly against her, stoking her hunger. Feeding it. Grabbing his shoulders, she kissed
him back, tangling her fingers in his hair, sucking on his tongue.
His hands clamped on her hips before he pushed her gently away.
Her breath rasped like a drowning woman‟s. “What?” she demanded, frustrated. Embarrassed. Bereft. “Too pushy? I‟m just
supposed to stand here and take it?”
“Take it, yes. But not standing.” He stripped off his coat and tossed it on the ground.
Her eyes widened. He wasn‟t wearing any shirt. Just pants and some kind of necklace, a textured disk on a silver chain. He
should have looked ridiculous. He did not. Above the black pants, against the dark trees, his body looked white and smooth
and very strong. His shoulders were knotted, his chest heavy with muscle.
She gasped as he swept her off her feet, laying her on his open coat under the spangled sky.
He loomed over her, on his knees, between her legs. In moments, he had his pants undone, her top ruched up, and her jeans
shoved down around her ankles. She blushed and squirmed. His cock reared up against his stomach. No shirt. No underwear
either.
She reached out—to cover herself? to push him away?—and her hand brushed his stomach and then the broad, smooth
head of his penis. It jerked at her touch. Morgan made a sound between his teeth and covered her hand with his, holding her
palm against him. He felt wonderful, thick and hard. She wiggled closer, fluid and restless as water, running her free hand over
his chest, his thighs. He caressed her stomach, making the muscles there contract, before he pushed her legs wide. Crouching
over her, he rubbed himself slowly up and down her slit.
She arched toward him; twisted away. “Wait.”