Spider Game (GhostWalkers, #12)(135)

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 f*cking 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.