Spider Game (GhostWalkers, #12)(134)

His mouth moved over her other arm, following the progression of his palm and then he tied the scarf around her wrist and again secured it to the headboard.


She waited for his touch. For his mouth. He just sat there, his gaze heated. Burning. Moving over every inch of her. Her breasts rose and fell. She couldn’t stop her breath from coming so fast. So ragged.


“Trap.” She moaned his name.


“Shh, baby.” His hand skimmed down her body, from her throat, between the swell of her breasts to her mound. “You’re in for a long day. A very long day.” He bent and gently brushed his lips across her forehead. “Let’s turn you over. Relax your arms, there’s plenty of play in the scarves.”


He caught her easily around the waist and simply rolled her over, crossing her arms above her head. Her breasts pressed deep into the satin sheets. He ran his hand over the left cheek of her buttocks and then down her thigh and along her calf to her ankle, pulling her leg to the edge of the bed. She felt the brush of his hair and then his mouth followed his hand. He secured her ankle with a scarf to a built-in hook beneath the bed and followed suit with her right side so her legs were stretched wide.


She lay quivering. Trying to hold still. Waiting. Needing. Her breath hitching. She turned her head to the side to try to catch a glimpse of him. “Trap.” A plea.


“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.