Spider Game (GhostWalkers, #12)(113)

He dipped his head and swiped his tongue along the inside of her left thigh, careful of the bruise that had spread from the front to both sides. Just from the time he’d first seen it until this moment, it was already fading in color.


“It’s yours,” she agreed.


“I love the sight of that mouth wrapped around my cock. So beautiful, Cayenne. In my wildest imagination, I couldn’t have conjured up the image of you sucking on my cock the way you do. Loving it. Lavishing attention on it. Enjoying it. That’s mine, right? That mouth. All mine. All for me.”


He licked up her right thigh, and then pressed his mouth right into the middle of that silky red hourglass he loved so much. He stroked with his tongue. Traced each distinct line pressed there in the middle of the midnight black curls.


“Yes.” Her breath hitched in her throat. At his explicit words, droplets of liquid honey seeped along her entrance.


He felt the tension coiling in her. Her stomach muscles contracted. Her sweet bottom, even her thighs, but she didn’t move. She kept her hips still for him. Giving him that. He lapped at the tiny drops.


“I love the way you taste. Sometimes I just want to eat you alive. Devour you. Spend hours right here, harvesting every drop you can give me and making more. This is mine too, isn’t it baby? All for me.”


“You know it is, Trap,” she murmured, her fingers now curled into two tight fists in his hair.


“All the honey you can give me. That’s mine. That sweet, scorching-hot silk that wraps so tight around me and strangles my cock, milking every f*cking drop of my seed right out of me. That’s mine, right?”


“All yours,” she agreed. Now her voice had gone raw. Low. So sensual he felt it vibrating in his cock.


He didn’t ask her again. He plunged his tongue deep. He needed this, the taste of her pouring down his throat. The affirmation that she was alive and that she was his. He held her hips still while he took his fill, while he drove her up over and over with his mouth and tongue and teeth. He couldn’t use his hands because she could no longer control herself, her breath coming in sobbing pleas. Her head tossing on the pillow. She lost the purchase in his hair and transferred her grip to the sheets, fingers digging deep, bunching the material into the palms of her hands.


He didn’t stop, even when she begged him. He lost count of the times he demanded her body go over, but in the end there was no counting where one climax started and the next ended, they simply rolled into one another.


When he was so hard and thick and aching that he thought his body would explode, he lifted his head and started the crawl back up her body, rubbing his face and her nectar on her belly. When he reached the pillows, he rolled off the bed to stand up. At the same time, he caught her under her arms and pulled her to the edge of the bed. “Scoot your bottom all the way to the edge of the bed, baby.”


She didn’t ask questions or protest. Her green eyes were on his face. Trusting. Watching. Learning. He loved that in her. She obeyed instantly, positioning herself there at the edge of the bed.


“You’re going to give me this too? The way I want it?”


“I’d give you anything, Trap,” she said. “My body is yours. I’m yours. We just established that. Tell me what you want.”


His belly tightened. His cock jerked. She sat there in the bed. His bed. Their bed. Waiting for his command. Looking up at him with her green eyes and that mouth of hers. Just waiting for him to tell her what he needed. His woman. Cayenne. His heart pounded. Hurt even. He had this now. Her. This incredible woman belonged to him.


The silks she’d fashioned hung from the ceiling in long beautiful lacy patterns, cocooning them inside the small area, creating an intimacy like no other. It was their space. The bed was up higher on a platform, allowing him to stand close, his cock right next to her mouth. He’d had this built calculating the exact measurements needed and had his bedroom constructed accordingly.


The headboard was wide with numerous sturdy intricate dowels that were built for a specific purpose. He liked to play, and his bedroom was where he liked to do it. The bed had also been made to his specifications. He loved the idea of playing, having her at his mercy, but not now. Now was for worship. Now was for affirmation. He was loving her the best way he knew how. He was claiming her. Letting her know she was his and he’d spend the rest of his life finding ways to make her happy.


His hand came up to circle the wide thickness of his aching cock, a casual gesture he was barely aware of. He still didn’t feel lust in the way he normally did. This was so much more, a ritual he needed. A giving he craved. Still as elemental. He saw that same primal need in her eyes. That same terrible necessity that was so brutal, so urgent, neither of them could resist it.


“Open your thighs wide, baby,” he ordered softly.


Cayenne did so immediately, spreading her legs wide for him, her eyes on his.


“I want you looking at me. Just like that. I want to see your eyes, Cayenne. I need to see your expression.”


Her small tongue slipped out. Moistened her lips. He groaned at the sight of her gleaming lips. So wet for him. His gaze dropped lower. Between her legs. She was wet there for him as well. He knew she would be. Cayenne lavished him with love. Gave and gave. He wanted more, and he was going to take it.