Spider Game (GhostWalkers, #12)(46)

“Let me up, baby. I can make you feel really good, you let me up.”


Cayenne shook her head slowly, her body settling on the end of his bed. Her gaze remained fixed on his cock. She wet her lips entirely. His cock jerked hard in his hand. Pulsed with life. She was on her hands and knees, but low, as if she might spring away any moment, or crawl to him. He preferred she crawl to him. The idea was so erotic, his cock pulsed again, and this time, tiny droplets appeared.


“Let me up,” he said again. Demanded.


Her gaze jumped to his face. Faint amusement crept into her eyes. “I decided to try some of those things you have in mind, Trap. Tying you up sounded really good to me. I don’t have to worry about anything you’ll do that I don’t understand. I can work it all out for myself. I like experiments. And I like to learn new things. Sex has always sounded interesting, but I never wanted it before.”


“You let me up and I’ll teach you just how good it can be,” he offered.


She shook her head. “You said this was important to you. I need to find out if I can give you the things you need.”


He groaned. “You missed the point, baby. I can give them to you. Make it so good for you, you’ll need to come back over and over.”


She moved. Placed one hand on the mattress toward him. One knee. Her body undulated, sexy as all get-out. Clouds of hair, shiny as a raven’s wing, slid over his ankle. The sensation burned up his leg, teased his thigh like a thousand fingers, slid deep into his balls, burning a fire until it settled in his cock. Throbbing there. Staying there.


He was her captive. He’d never been in the position before and everything in him screamed at him to turn the tables on her, to tie her up and show her what sex with him would be. He didn’t move. Didn’t test the strength of all that silk again. She looked too hot, creeping slowly toward him like a wary, wild creature. Her eyes were enormous and such a startling emerald color. He could almost see the facets in the gems pressed into her face and surrounded by feathery black lashes.


When she moved, muscles rippled beneath the silk of her skin. Her long hair brushed along the mattress and over his bare feet and ankles. He could see the tiny red hourglass nestled in the tight black curls shimmering seductively as she inched toward him.


It wasn’t entirely because she looked hot that he stopped fighting the silk – she looked frightened. He didn’t want her afraid of him, and not because he feared her bite, but because she was his. His woman. However, she needed to learn that truth, whatever it took to let the knowledge sink into her mind and body, he was willing to give her. Even this. When it killed him to keep his hands off of her.


She circled his ankle with her hand. Her touch was light, but it seemed to burn right through his skin. Her gaze clung to his almost as if asking his permission when she had him trussed up like a turkey.


Cayenne shook her head. “Not like a turkey. Like the image you had of me tied to your bed.”


His cock jerked hard as that particular vision filled his mind. Cayenne, sprawled out on his bed. Her legs spread wide, silken ties at her ankles, keeping her open for his pleasure. Her arms above her head, lifting her breasts to him like a beautiful offering, her wrists bound with those same silks, anchored to the headboard he’d carefully chosen and then reinforced.


“I think I’d do the ties a little differently, but yes, you have the general idea.” Deliberately he added to the erotic picture in his head. Taking her hips into his hands, slowly bending his head to the feast in front of him so that her hips bucked wildly and small, panting gasps escaped. Her eyes went wide with shock – with the desire to know what it was like. Seduction came in all kinds of forms. His woman liked knowledge. All kinds of knowledge. He was going to be the man to fill in all those gaps, and he was going to show her exactly what he liked in the process.


“Does this mean you get your way and then I get mine?” He kept his voice low and intimate, using his ability to stroke caresses with his tone shamelessly.


There was no doubt in his mind that he got to her – that she was as affected as he was. A flush stole over her body. Her breasts rose and fell and her fingers stroked up his shin and then began a slow massage into muscles and tight sinew already strained from just that little contact with her. Wanting. Needing. The hunger building out of control just as he would do with her if he had silken ties.


Her fingers moved up his body, stroking along the muscles, teasing his body with a promise of things to come. Fingers of desire caressed his thighs, dancing over them, kneading and massaging deep into his flesh and then brushing streaks of fire over the nerve endings as she lightened her touch. For a woman who didn’t know what she was doing, she certainly found a way to inflame him further.


Maybe it was the thought of being so helpless, at her mercy, in the way he fantasized and intended she would be at his. Her mouth followed her fingers, a mere brush, a whisper of a touch, her tongue tasting the defined muscle along his calf, her lips following the path of his shins. It was exquisite and yet not enough, not even close.


Trap had never considered that a woman’s touch could be so carnal when she wasn’t touching his cock. She turned his long legs erogenous – trigger points for licking flames as if her tongue stroked tiny embers up and down his nerve endings. He hadn’t been aware of nerve endings in his legs – not like this. Not this unceasing, relentless burn that moved up his thighs straight to his groin.