Read Online Out of Control by Shannon McKenna - Free Book Online Page A

eyes, silently demanding that he acknowledge her supremacy.
    He would not. He bucked and writhed, pounding up into her body, but his eyes stared back up, glittering bright and wild and absolutely unconquered.
    And the orgasm kept eluding her. She would get so close, heart pounding, ready to fling herself into that well of dark oblivion, and suddenly, whoosh, gone. It evaporated, and he gazed up at her, eyes gleaming with wicked amusement. He was doing this on purpose.
    Damn him. This was insane. This was her own fantasy, in the privacy of her own mind, and he had no right to mess with it.
    But it was more than a fantasy now. It was more like a trance, or a waking dream with its own crazy momentum. She was helpless to guide or command it. She reached for the knife hidden in the sumptuous bed hangings. Held it in her hand just long enough to make that sly gleam in his eyes fade, to be replaced by wary uncertainty.
    She reached back and cut the silken cords that bound his ankles…one, two. She leaned over him, dangling her breasts in his face, and sliced through the cords that bound his wrists. She rocked back, letting his penis slide inside her, as deeply as it could lodge. She laid the knife in the pillows at the head of the bed, well within his reach.
    It was all up to him. She stared down at his astonished face.
    The paralyzed part of her mind locked behind the swirling dream images was aghast. Was she out of her skull? Did she not deserve even the artificial luxury of running the show in a silly sexual fantasy?
    The fantasy thundered on. He gripped her waist with his big hands and rolled her over, a guttural snarl sounding deep in his throat. He pinned her beneath his big body and thrust deep, driving her hard.
    Unleashing his passion unleashed hers too, and sent her soaring.
    When she regained her awareness, she was still clenching around the pulses of residual pleasure. Dazed, gasping for breath.
    And still alone in her bed. Alone in her wrecked life. Aching for the loss of something she’d never even had.
    What an idiot. Torturing herself with fantasies. She fought back the tears. She’d cried enough for a lifetime already.

Chapter
5
    M arcus Worthington was in a killing mood.
    Years of meticulous conditioning that Marcus had instilled into his younger brother, Faris, wiped away as if by a vicious computer virus.
    All that Callahan bitch’s fault.
    He would be glad when the woman was safely dead, though disappointment could drive Faris over the edge. Few people were aware of Faris’s unique abilities, and the tremendous risks involved. So far Marcus had always prevailed in a battle of wills. Still, it worried him.
    The only thing that calmed Marcus when he was so agitated was puttering in his lab, playing with what Priscilla, his late father’s fourth and worst wife, was pleased to call his “toys.” She would learn soon how wrong she was about him. Just as his father had learned. The wife that had preceded Priscilla had learned as well. They all had, in the end.
    But Priscilla would get a very special lesson.
    Marcus teased the gelatinous mold of Dr. Driscoll’s hand out of the cast. His whimsical choice of livid, corpselike green coloring for the hand amused him, insofar as he could be amused in his current mental state. He adjusted the light to better admire the fingerprints. The loops, whorls and arches were so well reproduced, even the minute pattern of sweat glands on each ridge were duplicated.
    Not perfectly, but well within the parameters of the sensor.
    He pressed the hand against the Krell Systems Biolock Identipad Sensor. His own database was loaded with the same template as the Calix Research Laboratories, thanks to Caruso’s evil genius.
    Negative. The machine beeped in protest. No match found.
    It worked just as the Krell sales staff had promised that it would. Proof against fraud because of a complex, multi-system battery of “live and well” detection, a