Spider Game (54 page)

“I know, baby, but you aren’t in control this time. Do you remember when you tied me down with your silks? You liked having me at your mercy, didn’t you?” He lifted her head very gently with one hand and wrapped a scarf around her eyes. The room went dark.

Fear began to edge into her excitement. “What are you doing?”

“This will heighten your awareness. You’ll feel everything. The slightest touch. The slightest breath.”

She was so hot. Burning. She wasn’t certain she could stand any more awareness. “I need you inside me.”

“Like this?” His hand moved between her legs. A whisper. The lightest of touches. Across her wet opening. His finger was gone and then it was back. Gentle. Barely there. Inside her, sliding over her most sensitive spot, and then gone.

She had only thought she was burning. Now the fire was a million times worse. The need was growing every second. She heard him moving, putting something on the side table. And then his hands were on her shoulders. He began to knead the muscles there. His palms were slippery with some kind of ointment. The ointment started off cool but as he worked it into her body, it heated. Every nerve ending began to tingle.

He worked the oil down her back and into the hollow above her buttocks. Her right cheek. Her left. The cleft between her cheeks, paying special attention until she was burning everywhere. Inside. Outside. Then down the backs of her thighs. Her calves. She couldn’t stay still. Now every nerve ending burned with need.

“Be good,” he cautioned. “I like the way my hand looks on your ass. Especially right now, baby. You weren’t very good today on that plane, were you? Flirting. No bra. Nearly giving my silks away. What kind of punishment do you think that should earn you?”

There was a strange roaring in her ears. She pushed into the mattress, desperate to relieve the ache. His hand landed hard, smacking her left cheek and then her right. He’d smacked her before and she’d liked the way her nerve endings leapt to life, but this was different. This time they roared to life. The heat radiated out and around and straight to her core. She couldn’t believe it. It should have hurt, but the cinnamon oil seemed to spread the fire through her feminine channel, ratcheting up her need. She couldn’t think. She almost couldn’t remember her own name.

His hand moved between her legs, fingers still coated in the oil. His fingers worked the oil inside her until there wasn’t any part of her lower body that wasn’t burning and in desperate need.

“Stay relaxed for me. This isn’t very big, but it might feel like it. It’s slick and will go in easy if you relax.” She felt his fingers between her cheeks and then something pressed into her. Something hard. Stretching her. A bite of pain. Her breath caught. The burn heightened. If she clenched her cheeks it only made it more so.

He rubbed his hand over her bottom and then repeated the smacks. This time a little harder. The flames spread like wildfire. “That’s going to feel good in a few minutes.”

She wasn’t certain what to think. Everything felt good. Everything. Everywhere. Yet at the same time, she was desperate for relief.

Very slowly he released her legs and turned her over, to just as quickly and efficiently retie them. She couldn’t see him. She knew he moved because the weight on the bed changed and then he was back. This time his hands went to her breasts, coated in the oil. She wanted to plead with him but it was too late. Her nipples were very sensitive and he worked them, rolling the oil into them, kneading it into her soft, lush curves until her breasts were on fire. The fire streaked straight to her clit.

She couldn’t close her legs. Couldn’t get relief. She could only feel, her body so alive and so desperate for his, she could barely catch her breath. “Trap, please. It’s too much. It’s going to drive me insane.”

“We’re just getting started,” he said. “Have patience. You’re always in such a hurry.” His hands smoothed down her belly to her hips, and then he plunged his fingers inside her – stretching her with his oiled fingers, stroking the oil onto her clit.

She bucked. Screamed. Tried desperately to ride his fingers. He pulled them away and continued to use the oil on her legs. Rubbing it in deep.

He took his hands away. Then his weight left the bed. It was impossible to hear him move, he was a GhostWalker. He went silent. She lay there writhing – unable to hold still with the oil burning her, keeping her hungry for him.

“Trap?” Fear skittered along the edge of excitement.

“Right here, baby,” he said. His voice came from across the room, reassuring her immediately.

“What are you doing?” His presence steadied her.

“Sitting here having a Scotch. Watching you. Deciding what I’m going to do next. You look beautiful squirming around, all that cinnamon honey spilling out. I have to let you cool down some before I eat you. I have a few toys I ordered a week or so ago, and this seems like the perfect time to try them out.”

“Toys?” There was trepidation in her voice. She couldn’t hold still. She couldn’t imagine being any more desperate than she already was and just the way he said the word made her hotter, if that was even possible.

“I like toys. I like seeing you come apart for me.” He moved then. She heard the tinkling of ice in his glass. “I see that excites you. You just got wetter for me, didn’t you?” He put the glass down on the table and reached for one of the toys he’d purchased. “You already like the toy I bought you. It’s stretching you, filling you. I want to finish my drink, and I think you want something. Tell me what it is.”

“I need you inside me.”

“I’m sorry, baby, I can’t accommodate you just yet, but maybe this will do in the meantime.” She felt him position something soft but hard at her entrance. She was so slick and so in need that she bore down as he pushed it inside her. At once she felt her channel stretch for the toy. “It isn’t as big as me, but it will keep you full, especially with that plug in you.” He pulled the toy out and then pushed it back in. “I’ll set it on low so you won’t go too crazy.”

The vibration started. No matter how she moved, no matter what she did, she couldn’t get the toy to lie against her very inflamed spot. The fullness and vibration only made her hungrier. Needier. More desperate than ever.

“Trap. Oh, God, please. You have to do something.”

Trap looked down at her shuddering body. So beautiful all stretched and writhing. So full with the toys he’d bought for her. Her skin glowed from the oil. He padded across the room on bare feet, his cock already as hard as a rock. It was a good thing he had her suck him dry or he wouldn’t have been able to take playing like this. She was too responsive.

He took a piece of ice from his glass and rubbed it on her right nipple. She screamed and arched into his hand. He did the same to the left one. Then he placed an ice cube in his mouth and pulled out the vibrator.

“Do you belong to me, Cayenne?” he asked, his voice casual. He lay belly down on the bed, between her legs. He stroked a finger down her mound, right over the hourglass he loved.

“Yes.” She answered without hesitation.

“Belonging to me, being my wife, means you don’t crawl into another man’s lap without your fucking bra on.” He flicked her slit with his tongue. “You don’t ever, unless you’re using silk as a defense, give that to another man.” His tongue, ice cold, plunged deep into her scalding heat.

She screamed. Writhed. He pinned her hips down with his hands. “Do you understand me? Say you understand, because if you don’t, I can keep this up all day. I might anyway, just to prove a point.”

Her head thrashed and she yanked at the scarves, trying to reach him. Reach between her legs. She couldn’t talk anymore. She couldn’t think, her mind in complete chaos. There was a roaring in her ears.

He shifted slightly, cupped her bottom and brought her mound to his mouth. She screamed again as he did exactly what he’d been wanting to do since he saw her in that silken dress. He ate her. Devoured her. His tongue removed honey, now flavored with cinnamon, and he drank it down like a starving man. He used his teeth. He used his tongue. He suckled on her clit and then stroked it with the edge of his teeth.

He bit the inside of her thigh and suckled. Then the other thigh. Using his fingers, he stroked the plug in and out while his tongue danced and she writhed.

Please. Please. Please. Please.
 

Her chant was music in his ears. He loved the way her body responded to him. He felt the coiling and pushed her higher, wanting to give this to her. He reached down with one hand and slipped her ankle out of the loop in the scarf, guiding it around his shoulders. He did the same to the other. Last, he removed her blindfold. He needed to look into her green eyes when she came.

There’s nothing more beautiful than seeing you giving me that gift. That perfect, beautiful moment between my woman and me when I’m loving you, and make no mistake, Cayenne, I’m loving you.
 

He watched her as she came apart. As her body nearly convulsed, rippling with strong shocks, a tidal wave of pure pleasure that
he
gave her. It lasted a long time, the waves rolling through her. He felt it in her thighs, saw it in her belly and breasts. Her beautiful face, the dazed shock in her eyes and the way her mouth formed his name as she screamed out, unable to stay silent.

He took one last swipe of her honey and was up on his knees, dragging her closer, pulling each leg around his hips, slamming into her, driving through those rolling waves,
feeling
the powerful surge, the contractions of those tight, tight muscles. She was scorching hot, surrounding him with fiery, living silk that gripped him and squeezed with a beauty he’d never known before.

He could live there. In her. In her mind. In her body. Sometimes, looking at her, when he was inside her, love for her overwhelmed him. The emotion was so strong, so foreign to him, it brought him to his knees.

I love you, baby. More than life. More than anything.
 

From the moment he’d removed the scarf from her eyes, her gaze had never left his. Not once. She gave him that, knew instinctively he needed it. He moved in her, hard, brutal strokes, surging in and out of that scalding tight tunnel of pure silk. He loved the feel of her surrounding him like that, gripping and milking. He stroked the plug in and out of her as a counterpoint to his cock, watching her face as one orgasm rolled into another, even more powerful one.

So beautiful.
He breathed the truth into her mind.
My world. My incredible wife.

He hammered into her, taking her through another powerful climax and straight into a third. He loved watching her face. He couldn’t get enough of that look, or the indescribable feeling of pure bliss being inside her body in that tunnel of living silk.

I can’t again.
 

Her voice was breathless. She was already there, clamping down on him with fiery friction, flames dancing as she drew his seed from him, forcing an explosion that left him wrung out, floating with her in some place he’d never been before. If there was ecstasy on earth, right in those moments, he was there.

The emotion for her was so overwhelming he trembled with it as carefully, his body shuddering right along with hers, he began to glide gently in her, bringing her back down with tenderness, as he removed the plug and held her hips to him, still locked together, still moving.

“Unloop the scarves from your wrists, baby.”

She lay looking up at him with that wide, dazed expression he loved so much. “I don’t think I can. I can’t move. I really can’t.” The aftershocks were strong, her body still rippling with life around his.

Her breasts heaved with every ragged breath she drew into her lungs. Her gaze, so green, like two gems, moved over his face. There was stark love on her soft, beautiful features. Stark. Raw. Certain. The expression ripped into his heart, shredded his soul and put him back together again.

“I love you, baby,” he whispered. “So damn much I don’t know how to show you.”

“You showed me,” she whispered.

“Did I scare you?”

She shook her head, her green gaze moving over his face, still claiming him, still loving him. His heart stuttered in his chest. He’d never felt more vulnerable in his life.

“I trust you, Trap. It was exciting. The most exhilarating, beautiful experience of my life. I felt your love surrounding me.”

He’d wanted her to feel it. Wanted her to understand that no matter how much of an ass he was, how foul his mood, how vulgar he sounded, he loved her and he would never harm her. He’d cut out his own heart before he harmed her.

“You knew you could get loose, right? Anytime you wanted?”

She nodded. “Not at first, but later when I had to grip the scarves.”

“And you know, all you have to do if you don’t like something is to say no and I’ll stop. Immediately. That’s all it takes. We can talk about it and how it made you feel. Always, baby, no matter what I’m saying, what’s coming out of my mouth, when I touch you, you should feel love. You don’t, you don’t feel safe, you say so and we stop. That’s a promise.”

“You don’t have to tell me that, Trap. I know.”

“I can’t ever let you go. I don’t want you to be my fucking prisoner, Cayenne, but I can’t ever let you go.”

“Come here,” she whispered softly in her voice. The one that crept into a man’s head. Into his soul. “Come here to me. I want to feel your weight.”

He slowly lowered her legs to the mattress from around his waist where he’d drawn them as he’d hammered into her. She seemed far too small and fragile for the rough sex they’d shared. She’d loved it. She pleaded with him for harder. For more. She’d sobbed for relief, but she’d never once stopped him.

He gently stretched out over the top of her, feeling his cock jerk, pulsate with the friction his action caused, but for once in his life he was going soft. Not semisoft, but actually fully relaxed. He kissed her eyes, brushed kisses along her cheekbone and down to the corner of her mouth.

“I love your mouth. Did you know that? I can’t ever get enough of kissing you. Or your taste.”