Night Game (GhostWalkers, #3)(87)

“I can’t go to sleep with you spraying whipped cream all over me.”

This time he outlined a bikini top on her breasts and bent to lick it off. His tongue rasped over her skin and around her nipple. There was a small tug of his teeth. Her womb contracted and clenched hard in response. Flame tangled her fingers in his hair and closed her eyes, giving herself up to the sensations of his tongue and teeth, the moist heat of his mouth and his exploring hands. “You’re not planning on really using those ridiculous toys, are you?”

“Hell yeah, we’re using them.”

She opened one eye. “I call the handcuffs and paddle.”

“Not a chance, femme sexy, I’m stronger than you.” His hand caressed her bottom. “I’ve got me plans.”

“You’re such a goof.” For the first time in her life, she felt truly happy. And she hoped it would be a long, long night. “Just remember who has the knife.”





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CHAPTER 15





Flame woke with her heart thundering in her ears. Nightmares had invaded her sensual dreams and left her gasping. She lay still, looking up at the rough ceiling knowing dawn was just an hour or so away. She had never allowed herself to be so close to anyone. She’d formed friendships, let herself enjoy people, but she never took a relationship far enough that she needed any one. She never risked wanting anything so much that she couldn’t leave it behind, so it didn’t make sense to her that wanting to be with one person would ever be important enough to risk her freedom.

She rubbed her broken arm absently as she listened to the sound of Raoul breathing. His arm was around her body possessively, his hand under her breast. She could feel the rub of his knuckles and even that small contact sent excitement skittering through her body. He had power over her whether he knew it or not. Flame tried to be ruthless in her dealings with her own feelings. She didn’t want to let go of Raoul. She tried to be analytical and logical.

What real future together was there for them? She could seek help from a conventional doctor. It might buy her time, but it wouldn’t cure the cancer. Only Whitney could do that. And going to a doctor would reveal her genetic enhancement and everything else Whitney had done. It would put her square in the limelight and the government would swoop in and retrieve her. She was worth too much money and frankly, they would think it would be too dangerous to allow her to run around loose.

She eased her way out from under Raoul, sliding to the edge of the bed. The moment she sat up, she was aware of her body, deliciously sore, strangely stimulating as if deep inside something moved against her most sensitive parts. Raoul had been so eager to get at her body, to keep nothing between them, his hands roaming over her even after his sexual appetite was temporarily sated. And he never seemed to be sated for very long, waking her over and over in the night.

As if reading her thoughts, his arm snaked around her waist. “It isn’t light yet.”

She closed her eyes at the sound of his voice, savoring his Cajun accent and the velvet smoothness of his tone. Almost.”

“We didn’t get to finish playin’ with all the toys, cher,” he cajoled, pressing a kiss against the scar in the midst of the flames arching over her hip. “I was thinking we could spend a little time with the handcuffs.”

She turned her head to regard him with what she hoped was a stern look. Unfortunately, he always made her want to laugh. He looked sinfully sexy, a little bit wicked, yet still managed a boyish anticipation. “Not in your wildest dreams.”

“Now, sugah. The entire concept behind handcuffs is a control issue. I like control. And the thought of you kneeling in front of me, hands behind your back, helpless so I can do whatever I want to your body makes me as hard as hell.”

She did burst out laughing, “You really are a freakin’ pervert, Raoul, and honestly, just about everything makes you hard as hell.”

“You don’ know the half of it, cher.” He reached casually for the small remote on the nightstand and turned the switch.

Her breath caught in her throat and she spun around, wide-eyed as the small eggs deep inside her body began to vibrate. “What did you do?”

“You were sleeping so sound, exhausted from all the playin’ we did and I didn’t want to wake you up. It was so damn sexy putting those eggs inside of you. Do they feel good?” He licked the scar, nibbled his way up her rib cage. “Tell me what it feels like.” He laid back again, his dark eyes drifting moodily over her face, watching her expression. “Even in your sleep you get damp and taste like honey. I wanted to do so many things last night, but didn’t want to scare you off.”

Each movement of her body sent the eggs bouncing around until they were vibrating over her most sensitive spot triggering a flood of liquid heat. Her womb and her stomach muscles contracted, an unexpected orgasm beginning to wash over her so that she gasped.

Oh, yeah, they feel good,” he whispered and flicked tongue over her nipple. “Lean down here.” His hand circled the thick length of his erection, holding it up for her. “Every time I see you, or smell you, or even hear your voice, this is what you do to me. Put your hands on me. your mouth. I want to have your mouth on me.”

“I don’t know how.”

“Don’ worry, cher, I’m a hell of a good teacher.” Using the remote, he changed the setting, so that the eggs were subtly vibrating against the walls of her tight channel. His fists curled in her hair and guided her head down to him. He closed his eyes as her tongue flicked the pearled drops from him. “Son of a bitch, Flame. I might not be able to survive the lesson.”