Page 49 of Dangerous Games (Tempting SEALs 2)

DREAMS WERE CLINT'S WORST FEAR. Each time he closed his eyes he knew the chances of reliving the past were high. Seeing himself in his father's place, his hand raised back, the length of a leather belt clenched in his fist as his blue eyes blazed with fury, was his greatest nightmare.

He knew the child before him was his own flesh and blood. Big for his age, maybe, smart for his age, but still just a child. Tears stood in the boy's eyes, but none fell to his cheeks until the flesh of his back smeared with blood. A still the belt fell, the fury cracking around them with each strike.

It was a dream Clint had never forgotten. Just as he had never forgotten his own beatings.

My father taught me to be a man, boy, Allen McIntyre had raged as he beat Clint. I'll teach you to be a man. A man doesn't stand by and let others turn his momma into a whore.

The bastard had idolized his wife. He had worshipped at her feet, fought with her, screamed, and cursed her. The house and Allen's life had revolved around Linda McIntyre.

The dreams poured through Clint's unconscious mind, though this time they grew dimmer, dimmer. Rather than feeling the stripe of his father's leather, Clint felt a soft caress along his arm. The smell of his own blood was pushed away by the scent of summer, of heat and passion.

The smell of Morganna.

He shifted against her touch, knowing this dream better than most. He would feel her touch, light as a butterfly over his body, but never as he needed it. He would awaken, poised at the gates of her glistening, wet flesh, unsated, aching for her.

But the touch was firmer this time. Lips heated rather than merely warm. Her fingertips like silk, the murmur of her arousal against his abdomen as she licked.

He arched to her, rolling to his back, his arms outspread as he relished this touch. A touch from a woman whom he had only had in his dreams. Until now.

Her approval was a stinging little kiss just above his navel. He groaned, the sound piercing his mind as his fists clenched in the blankets. He needed her lower, just a little bit lower. His cock was rising fierce and hot from between his thighs, his balls aching with the need for relief.

Slowly, the knowledge that reality and dream commingled penetrated his mind, sending a harsh flare of horror raging through him. His eyes snapped open as his hand flashed out, catching her wrist as her slender fingers moved to encircle the throbbing shaft rising so eagerly to her touch.

Her witchy eyes, stormy gray, almost black with arousal, lifted to his. Dark lashes shadowed her cheeks as a wanton smile curved her lips and her pink little tongue swiped over her lips before her head began to lower.

He couldn't speak. Jaw clenched, body aching, his free kind shot out, gripping her hair to hold her back. Her lips were but a breath from the damp, flushed crest rising so eagerly to her lips.

Nothing could stop her tongue. His jaw clenched so hard he wondered it didn't snap as her tongue swiped over the bead of come welling from the tip, then tickled at the gold ring piercing his foreskin.

His hips jerked, involuntarily arching to her lips despite the hold he had on her hair, the desperation in his mind that he hold her back falling beneath the pleasure.

It was so good. So damned good. Her tongue tugging at the little ball ring, sending sparks of heated sensation burning along his cock.

She was so pretty. Naked, flushed, her breasts swollen, the nipples peaked and rosy as she bent to him. His greatest fantasy, his worst fear.

"Let me," she whispered, breathing over the damp head of his erection as he jerked at the lash of pleasure that so simple a caress brought.

His eyes narrowed on her as he took the hand he gripped, wrapping his fingers over hers as he forced her to grip the base of his tortured flesh.

He couldn't speak. God only knew the insanity that would pass his lips if he tried. His other hand tightened in her hair, intent on dragging her rosy lips over the throbbing crest.

A frown snapped between her brows as she leaned back, tugging at the hold on her hair.

Her voice was strong, demanding. "You had your playtime; now it's mine. Let me go, Clint."

He fought to breathe. How the hell was he supposed to allow her the freedom to touch him as she pleased? She would kill him. Didn't she know she was already destroying his soul?

"Let me go." Her voice softened as she continued to stare at him from between his splayed thighs. "I've dreamed of this. Bringing you pleasure. Let me bring you pleasure now."

Her free hand reached up, her fingers gripping his wrist, pulling at it as he forced his fingers to release her. He could see the need in her eyes, the hunger. Just for a minute. He could bear it surely-

"Jesus!" His hand flew to her hair again, gripping the strands as her hot mouth encircled the violently sensitive crest. "No."

Her lips lifted from him as her gaze flashed.

"Don't tell me no." She pulled his hand from her agai

n. "What are you afraid of, big man? How is the puny little girl going to hurt you? Like this ... ?" Her tongue swiped over him, sending a burst of heat to his loins that damned near stole his breath.

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