Chapter 26
Morgan’s mine. I’m hers. And nothing—no person or goddamn force in existence—can take that away from us.
It’s the thought I repeat in my head as I do exactly what she wants, what I need.
I take her.
Her strength. Her mind. Her body, starting with her mouth.
A hand to the nape of her neck, I tilt her head, angling it to claim her. Tongues dancing, teeth gnashing. I taste her like I’ve never tasted anything so sweet and addicting in my life.
I haven’t. Everything about Morgan is otherworldly and entirely surreal.
My other hand drifts down the base of her spine and under her dress, fingers molding to the curve of her bare ass—round and thick. My hands flex, pulling her closer, needing her closer. Her hips move instinctively, grinding against the steel of my cock, ringing a guttural groan from deep inside me. A place only Morgan can reach.
Jesus, I’ve never been this hard in my goddamn life. It’s the perfect kind of pain.
She grinds again, loosing a heavy moan when my cock pulses against her. Fuck, she’s as far gone as I am. If I slip a finger under her thong right now, I already know I’ll find her soaked.
The realization sears through me like fire, and suddenly, my hands move without thought, gripping the backs of her thighs, lifting her into my arms. Her legs lock around my waist without hesitation, like she was made for this—made for me.
Hell, she is made for me.
If she’d let me, I’d tattoo MADE FOR JIHO PARK across her olive skin just so the world could know.
Told you I’m possessive.
But I’m not psycho like those creeps from one of the dark porno—sorry, romance —books she reads, so I won’t even ask.
My grip slips from the slick massage lotion, so I hike her higher on my hips. She clings tighter in response, her nails digging into my shoulders, and I eat up the sting like it’s fucking fuel.
Through swollen lips, her breath comes in hot, shallow pants against my mouth, but she doesn’t pull away. No, she’s as desperate as I am. I feel it in the way her body trembles, in the way she rolls her hips against my straining dick, chasing every last bit of friction.
“Take everything,” she whispers, her voice wrecked, needy.
I will.
I’ll take everything until I’m all that consumes her. But I’ll give her everything, too—the line between us infinitely blurring until neither of us remembers where one ends and the other begins.
I turn us, pressing her back against the massage table because fuck our bed—I need her now. She gasps, pupils blown wide as I roll my hips into her, letting her feel every thick, throbbing inch of me.
“Careful what you ask for, baby,” I rasp against her mouth, “because I don’t think I can stop.”
Her teeth sink into my bottom lip and pull.
Fuck. Me.
She breathes, “Good, because when it comes to you being inside me, I never want you to.”
A growl rumbles through me, her words offering a certain permission I never knew I needed. They awaken something primal. Animalistic.
Fuck, maybe I am a tiger. Or, better yet, a gorilla, because the next second, I’m tearing at her clothes until her body and all its luscious curves lie naked before me.
She wants me to take from her—I will because she asked—but all I really want to do is give. To give her so much pleasure, her pussy’s sweetly sore for a goddamn week, and the only thought in her gorgeous head is my name and the memory of this moment.
But I’ve been so fucking hard for so fucking long now, I know as soon as I slide home, I’m going to come.
Warning: You are now entering the two-pump-chump zone.
It takes every ounce of effort to tear my eyes away from her body, especially her tits, now full and ready for me. But I’m a man on a mission. I have to find them—the massage guns.
There are two in here. A heavy-duty one for deep-tissue massage, which I will definitely not be using for my specific intentions, and a smaller one with lighter pressure for my neck. That is the one I want.
“Just a second, baby,” I murmur, pressing a quick, hungry kiss to her lips before peeling myself away.
One hand finds the massage gun, while the other squeezes her thigh as if she might try to run. But she doesn’t. Of course, she doesn’t. She’s given herself over to me completely, trusting that, in guiding her, I might reclaim what I lost.
What she doesn’t realize, though, is that the moment she surrendered to me, the moment she told me to take control, I already found it. And with it, a new purpose—to never fucking lose myself again. Not just for my own sake but for ours.
If I ever falter, if I ever forget to stand strong for myself, I’ll remember to do it for the woman I love.
Quickly, my fingers grasp the small T-shaped instrument, ensuring the soft rubber element is attached. I reposition myself on the table, kneeling and looking down at the most perfect creature to ever walk the goddamn earth.
My squeezing hand trails up and down Morgan’s thigh as my eyes find hers, half-lidded. They move knowingly to the instrument in my hand, but there’s no fear there. Only trust.
“If this hurts,” I say, my voice low and firm, “even for a second, you tell me to stop. Do you understand, Morgan?”
She nods, swallowing. “I understand.”
“Such a good girl.” My hand moves to her ankle, lifting, my mouth kissing and nipping up her leg before draping it over my shoulder.
A click sounds and the massage gun whirs to life, Morgan biting her lower lip in ready anticipation. The low hum vibrates through my fingers as I gently press it to her inner thigh.
She jerks, her breath hitching and body already writhing beneath me. I haven’t even touched her where she needs it most.
My hand stills the massage gun an inch closer to her center, holding it there, letting myself watch her in pure amazement as she moves and grinds and arches, completely overcome.
I didn’t mean to make her beg, but when a breathless, desperate, “Please,” falls from her lips, I know I have her exactly where I want her.
Normally, I’d oblige the request, considering I’d give anything to pleasure Morgan to her heart’s desire. To serve her in any way possible. But I’m in control here, and I decide that her earlier request for me to take everything takes precedence over this one.
At least for now.
I taunt, nipping at her ankle, “I can’t take from you if you beg, Morgan. Begging means you’re giving. Do you want to give, or do you want me to take?”
“Take,” she whimpers, her lungs gasping and back arching on the end of the word when I move the vibrations closer to her clit.
“Then the only other words you’re allowed to say are stop and my name.”
Her mouth pops open with something to say, but it closes just as fast when my command sinks in, choosing instead to nod again. When Morgan’s in control, I fucking love it—letting her ride me off into the sunset like the Korean-American stallion that I am.
Wait, I’m a tiger. No, gorilla…
Or, maybe I’m some tiger-gorilla-stallion hybrid.
Tigorrallion.
Whatever the fuck I am, I love submissive Morgan even more. She altered my brain chemistry for the rest of time. Her compliance. Her willing obedience. Her desire for me to dominate. It makes me feel unstoppable. Masculine.
Strong.
Shit, there it is—the reason she told me to take from her in the first place. In her, she knew I’d find the strength I lost. Not by losing control this time but by taking it.
God, I’m so in love with her.
And it’s with that thought I move the massage gun the final inch, holding it lightly against her clit.
Morgan screams, but it’s not stop. It’s my name, over and over again, head thrown back, legs shaking. Her pussy clenching around nothing, I can see the longing to be filled settle on Morgan’s face as her orgasm rolls on.
“Jiho, Jiho, Jiho,” she moans, each one a little louder.
She won’t beg, though, waiting for me to make the choice. And I choose to hold the vibrations steady, the first climax turning into a second and third, my praises urging her to come again and again for me.
My eyes fucking feast on her, taking their time to memorize this part of Morgan Asterman too. Until I’m certain I know everything about her. Until I’m the one begging for more, and my cock takes over my fucking brain.
Which is right now, needing to be inside her, filling and stretching her pussy exactly how she wants.
Discarding the massage gun, the instrument hits the floor with a loud crack, followed by the sound of little bits of scattering plastic. I’ll have to come up with a solid lie for that one tomorrow, because, no, I don’t fuck and tell with my massage therapist.
My hands wrap around Morgan’s thighs, sliding her closer and lifting her hips, the head of my cock flush with her entrance, glistening with arousal in the low light. She’s ready to take me, and with just one thrust, I’m home.
“You’re dripping for me, baby,” I growl, pulling out to the tip, only to drive in again. Her hips writhing for more, I lean down, rasping in a whisper, “Who got you this wet?”
“Jiho,” she moans my name again, hips working on my cock. Her inner walls clench, and I know she’s so close. Good, because I am, too. But that was pump number two, so at least I’m clear of the two-pump-chump hazard.
“Again.” I need to hear her say it. My name from her mouth is almost as intoxicating as her sweet pussy.
“Jiho,” she obeys, moaning my name louder this time. Not quite the scream from earlier, but I’m determined to get her there.
Moving my hips in a steady rhythm, I keep my thrusts slow at first, inching her toward that blissful edge.
“You feel so fucking good, baby.” Her hips move faster with my praise, but my fingers dig into them, slowing both of us to a goddamn agonizing pace. “No giving, Morgan,” I warn, but a second later, it’s me who’s moving faster, spurred on by a you-have-ten-fucking-seconds-motherfucker twitch signal from my cock.
My thrusts turn ruthless and wild, pulling Morgan harder and harder onto my length, her tits bouncing with each drive. She screams—fuck yeah—my name like it’s her favorite song until she shatters around me, body trembling as I keep moving inside her.
And sure enough, at the ten-second mark, my balls tighten and—
“Fuck, Morgan.” My own release crashes through me, my heart beating out of my chest. I come so hard my body goes limp, falling next to Morgan on the table.
Panting, I tug her close, entwining our limbs, wanting this forever. “Neo gwaenchanha?” God, I want her forever.
“Gwaenchanha.” Her warm lips press a kiss to my sternum. “Did you find it?” she whispers against my skin through heavy breaths.
“Yeah, baby. I found it.”
She snuggles closer, kissing me once more in the same spot. “About damn time.”
I chuckle, rolling onto my back and slipping one hand beneath my head while the other keeps Morgan close. She rests her head in the crook of my shoulder, her fingers tracing lazy circles across my chest.
“I’m sorry,” I murmur into the silent room.
Morgan shakes her head. “No, we’re not going to do that. We’re not going to apologize to each other for our hard days.”
“But I hated you seeing me like that. Angry and…lost.”
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but I loved seeing you like that. It made me realize you’re human.”
My chin tilts down, my eyes catching her upturned gaze. “What do you mean?”
“I mean,” she says, running her hand down my abdominals, “have you seen you? Until today, I was convinced you’re actually a sexy gym god sent down from Olympus. And as much as I like god-Jiho and all of his giant perks, it’s human-Jiho I’m in love with.”
I kiss the top of her head. “Good, because chances are you’ll be seeing a lot more of him.”
“Considering you’re destined to see rage-ball Morgan on a monthly basis, I’ll consider it an even trade. Until—” She pauses, shaking her head again. “Never mind.”
“Until you leave for Seoul,” I finish for her, the words thick in my throat as a familiar, forlorn ache forms in my chest.
“I don’t want to think about it,” she murmurs, barely above a whisper. A sigh escapes her, and then her tone lifts. “Besides, it’s only the end of May. We still have a solid two months.” Propping up on an elbow, she leans in and kisses me, pulling away with a mischievous little smirk. “Let’s make them count.”