Read Online In His Service by Erika Masten - Free Book Online

devastatingly effective weapon.
    I chance removing my hand from my hat to pop the button on his jeans with speed and skill that makes me proud. As I’m gripping the tab on his zipper, I purr, “Looking for a hard man.”
    Swearing under his breath, Morgan jerks my hand from his pants and hauls me down the corridor two more doors to a sizeable storeroom stacked with crates of liquor and kitchen supplies, with cleaning agents and tools piled on shelves, a couple of empty barrels left over from the specialty brews they order from some local breweries, even a battered brown leather sofa against one wall. Flicking the light switch turns on a small yellowish bulb under a plain metal shade, about center of the room. It casts the space in a soft amber glow, perhaps a bit too soft-focus for my taste, but it would be hard not to look good in this light. That’s a plus.
    “This will do.” I nod decisively and use Morgan’s hold on my hand to tug him into the room, kicking the door closed behind us with the heel of my boot. Under that amber light, I fumble to get his zipper down. My eagerness to hear his soft voice turn to growls and curses, to feel his tender mannerisms give way to shoving and pulling and brutal thrusts, has me biting my lower lip. I hate that my hands are trembling. They never do that.
    “Slow down,” Morgan huffs as I cup his heavy, bulging testicles through his black briefs.
    “Don’t want to,” I say as I reach for the waistband of his underwear.
    In a blink, the room is swirling around me, as Morgan spins me hard and fast and lays me out face down bent over a crate. I grunt as the hard edge of the wooden box digs into my stomach, as my cunt pulses frantically at the sudden turn in Morgan, at the rough handling. His hat and his shirt hit the crate next to me. Then he’s got me by both arms, hands closed like vices just above my elbows, pulling them back enough to get me to arch my spine. His hold makes me press my ass flush to his erect cock.
    “Is this more what you had in mind?” he asks, a mild scolding tone in his voice.
    “It is,” I pant, my face hot, my inner thighs wet with the juices seeping from my pussy. “Assuming you’re man enough to know what to do with me in this position.”
    “Oh,” Morgan coos and whistles and shakes his head. “I bet that line usually works. Challenge a guy’s manhood, and most will lose their heads.” He gazes down appreciatively at the curves pinned underneath him. “Especially with that mouth and this body.”
    My hands ball up into fists, and I grind my ass back against Morgan’s rigid tool. “We playing mind games again, Mr. Dixon?” I squirm violently against him when he lays his body over mine and wraps his arms around my chest. So much bare skin against mine is making it difficult to concentrate on just how mad I am. His hot breath swirls in waves against my neck as he exhales, sending hard shudders through my shoulders and back.
    “The game has been all yours up to this point, Vicky. I’m just trying to slow you down enough to see if you’re still in there somewhere.”
    My stomach flushes with disappointment, my chest with anger. “Bastard. Enough with the pop psychology. Let me up. I’m out of here.”
    One of Morgan’s big, calloused hands dips inside my shirt and grips my breast, kneading ruthlessly before pulling at the aching nipple. “You really want me to?”
    I let out an uneven breath and toss my head back against his strong, hard shoulder. “Not if you’re going to do that. Fuck me or don’t, Morgan. Make up your mind.”
    “I heard from a couple of the guys around town that you’d turned into quite the little wildcat,” Morgan mutters, his soft lips just behind my ear, teasing the tender curl of flesh. “A cat in heat, one said, but I didn’t believe him. Not sweet little Victoria. Our little Vicky.”
    “Our Vicky?” I scoff. “I don’t remember dating you.”
    “Nope. Allan latched on before either Heath or I