Bound By The Night: Dark Heat / Dark Dreams / Dark Fantasy. Megan Hart
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it. His tongue stabbed into her mouth as his hand slipped to cradle the back of her head. Then his mouth was moving down her throat to nip and nibble and then, yes, oh God, yes, to scrape along her flesh in that beautiful burst of pleasure-pain she craved.
When his lips closed over one nipple, Monica threaded her hands through his thick dark hair, fingers tangling. “There. Yes.”
She still hadn’t opened her eyes again. She wanted to be lost in this, all the sensations sweeping over her. She gave up to him.
When Jordan’s mouth moved lower, though, she tensed. His lips tickled the scars on her ribs and belly. She waited for the questions, but all he did was kiss her softly and then move lower to nip at her hip bone. When he parted her thighs, again she tensed, though this time not out of trepidation.
At his first slow, long lick, she cried out. She lifted herself to his mouth, but Jordan had moved to slide his hands under her ass and his grip stilled her. When she tried to move again, his fingers tightened on her skin hard enough to bruise. She didn’t quiet at the sting. She writhed.
His tongue flickered along her clit, then switched to flat, smooth strokes that had her bucking beneath him in a few minutes. Desire was already building, surging. She always woke from the dreams desperate for sex, but this, oh, shit, this was amazing. Brad had been a competent, considerate lover. Jordan, on the other hand, was eating her pussy as if he meant to destroy her with his mouth.
Monica’s orgasm tore through her, leaving her gasping. Her fingers tightened in Jordan’s hair again, involuntarily yanking. He made a noise, something like a low...growl?
Startled, Monica opened her eyes at last. With her climax still washing over her, all she could do was ride it as, seemingly without effort, Jordan pulled away just enough to flip her over. Hard. Reckless. Not at all gentle—in fact, her head butted the headboard for a second before she managed to look over her shoulder.
He was on his knees behind her, already tearing open his jeans. His cock, thick and gorgeous, sprang free into his fist. His other hand slapped her ass as he gave himself a few strokes. He looked at her, eyes gleaming.
A flash of red.
In the next moment, he was inside her, thrusting so hard she again moved forward and only her hands pressed to the headboard kept her from hitting it. He fucked so deep inside her that she cried out, expecting pain but feeling only the hot, slick engulfing of his cock by her still-clenching pussy. Again Jordan thrust inside her. Again.
When his nails raked down her back, she screamed, breathless and gasping. His body covered hers in the next moment as he leaned to find her clit with his fingers. No soft strokes now. He pinched, jacking it as he fucked into her, and it was too much, too much—she was going over again. Spiraling. Exploding.
Jordan’s growl this time sounded like her name, which sent one last wave of ecstasy pulsing through her. He shuddered against her and...oh, fuck, he bit down on her shoulder as his fingers gave her one last pinching stroke and he came inside her. Monica couldn’t come again, not after that, but it was close.
Spent, she collapsed onto her face in the pillows. His weight pressed her for a few seconds before he moved off her to flop onto the bed beside her. Boneless, sated, exhausted, Monica couldn’t move.
She ought to say something, she thought blearily but couldn’t make her mouth form any words. The dream had always made her crave sex exactly how she’d just had it, but this was the first time she’d ever had it exactly how she needed it. She tried to roll over onto her back to at least see if she could get up and go to the bathroom, but her body refused to do anything but sink back into dark and dreamless sleep.
When she woke up to golden streams of late-afternoon sunlight streaming through the window, Jordan was gone.
As much as Jordan might have loved to take care of everything all by himself simply so he didn’t have to deal with other people, there was no way he could possibly manage to feed and clean the habitats of every animal in DiNero’s menagerie. Not even if he worked twenty-four hours a day. That was why he had a small rotating staff of three workers who took care of the daily care under his charge, while he spent his days visiting each habitat to be sure the animals were safe, healthy and as happy as they could be in captivity.
The woman was supposed to be with him again today on his rounds. He didn’t need her advice on how to keep his animals safe, he thought sourly, just some thoughts on what the hell was continuing to break through and attack them. So far, all she’d done was toss a lot of stupid theories at him. Nothing he could actually work with. Besides that, she hadn’t shown up this morning, not a call, not a note, nothing.
He couldn’t stop thinking about the taste of her.
He was hard now, thinking of it, and that pissed him off, too. For Jordan, sex over the past few years had been relegated to an occasional one-night stand when he traveled into New Orleans. He favored tourists, women in sundresses and wedge sandals, drunk on hurricanes. The ones who were shy or claimed to be, at least until he cut them from the pack of their squealy girlfriends and took them back to the small, barely furnished flat he kept just off Bourbon Street. Anonymous, brief, nothing but two bodies—or three, and once four—writhing and grinding until there was nothing but pure mindless pleasure. It was something he did with strangers, some who never even thought to ask his name. It was not something he did with women he ever expected to see again.
But he’d had sex with Monica last night, and he wanted to see her again.
By the time lunch had come and gone, Jordan had made his rounds. He checked in on the staff congregating in the small common room outside his office but didn’t linger, even though today was Peter’s birthday and Karen had brought a cake. Instead, Jordan headed for the perimeter wall, intending to walk the entire length of it to look for any breaks or to repair any damage. Also to check for any signs that the thing attacking the animals had returned. He’d made it all the way beyond the empty tiger habitat when the light scent of feminine soap lilted to him along the breeze. His nostrils flared, but he didn’t turn. He could hear her and smell her. That didn’t mean he needed to acknowledge her.
“Hey,” Monica said from behind him. “Sorry I missed you this morning. I totally overslept. I never do that.”
Jordan had been looking carefully over one of the spots that had been damaged to make sure the repairs were holding. He glanced over his shoulder. “No problem.”
She stepped up closer, moving beside him. She pointed. “It came through here originally?”
“We found two holes in the outside wall after the first attack. Both broke all the way through, but this was the biggest, and neither one was big enough to get anything through. Even if it could squeeze, you can’t squeeze a tiger. The barbed wire—” he gestured along the top of the wall “—had been completely torn away. Whatever it was tried to make it through, and when it couldn’t, it went over the top.”
“Any signs of blood here? Like something had cut itself?”
He gave her a flat look. “There was blood everywhere. Whatever it was came in and dragged away a full-grown tiger.”
“There are a few things that could do that.” Without looking at him, Monica moved closer to the wall to run her fingers along the patched section, then took a step back to look upward. “The other hole was smaller than this one?”
“Yeah. I can show you.”
Wasn’t she going to mention anything about the night before? Was she not going to say a word? She’d come on to him like a freight train, and now she was going to pretend it had never happened?
Fine.
He took her there and watched as she studied the repaired spot. She pulled out her phone, took a few photos. Tapped some notes.
“So,” he said, unable to stop himself. “What do you think it is?”
Monica