Spider Game (GhostWalkers, #12)(49)

“You’re not upset with me?”


“Baby.” He said it softly. “How can I be upset with you? Look at you, you’re absolutely beautiful and so sexy I can’t believe what a lucky man I am. Of course I want my hands on you. And my mouth. I want my cock inside of you. I want to make you scream with pleasure.”


She blinked. Her lashes fluttered and her face flushed. Her hands crept up to her breasts involuntarily. “You can do that?” Her voice came out breathy. Excited. Shocked.


“Yeah, baby, I can do that. Slide your hand down your body, Cayenne, but do it slow. Feel that glide of your palm. Over your belly. Down lower. In those tight curls. Stroke the hourglass with your fingers.” He wanted to stroke that hourglass. His fingers itched to do so. His mouth salivated, needing to trace that red outline with his tongue.


She took a breath and then complied, following the image of his hand as it slid down her body from her breasts to her belly button.


“I’ll be spending some time getting acquainted with your body, Cayenne,” he said softly, his own breath hitching, becoming labored. She was more than sensual. Her fingers sliding down along the path in his mind. He couldn’t feel the soft silk of her skin, but watching was hot.


“See all those drops of cream caught there? I’d use my tongue to get every last one. Curl your fingers inside where I want to touch. Feel all that sweet, spicy honey? That’s mine. That’s for me. I want that. I can’t get it myself so you’ll have to do it for me.”


She gasped as her fingers disappeared inside. His breath slammed right out of his lungs, leaving him burning.


“Fuck, baby, that’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my life. Feed it to me. I need that right now. Bring your fingers out coated with my honey and feed it to me.” His voice was hoarse. His fist pumped harder.


She withdrew her fingers and held them out to him. He opened his mouth, without leaning toward her, forcing her to lean into him, burning his chest with her sex as she pushed her fingers gently into his mouth. He closed his lips around them, his tongue curling and stroking to get off every last drop of honey.


“That’s not enough, baby,” he said softly. “I need more. You can’t just give me a taste and then take that away. It’s mine, and now I’m starving for it. Crawl up here. Close. You’ll be in control so don’t be scared. I can’t hold you down like I want to and eat you until you’re screaming for mercy, but I can show you a little of what it can be like.”


“I don’t understand.” But she was already moving her body toward his face, caught up in the sexual spell woven so tight between them – the temptation to know more drawing her to him.


“Open your knees wide, Cayenne. Scoot a little more until your thighs are on either side of my face.” He breathed the wild, exotic scent of her into his lungs. Need was so strong he found himself shaking. He didn’t do that. Ever.


He had never once, in all the fantasies he’d had, all the times he took a woman, envisioned this. Unable to use his hands. One fist tight around his throbbing, pulsing cock, so engorged his skin felt as if it might burst. If someone had asked, he would have said he would hate it, but now, he’d never burned hotter.


“If you get too scared, you can just inch away. But let me have this. You know it’s mine. You know you are. Your body is. Push forward, baby and keep your knees wide. Put one hand on the mattress beside my head. Remember, you’re in control. You need to grind down, do it. You need to move your hips, do it.”


“I don’t want to hurt you.” The fear was pressing in on her again, but the lure of knowing more, receiving more pleasure – pleasure she’d never known in her life – sharing this with him, was even stronger.


Her gaze remained steady on his. “No one’s ever given me the things you have, Trap. It’s terrifying and exhilarating at the same time. I dream of you. Usually when I dream, well – things aren’t nice. But when you’re there, you change everything. I didn’t know I could feel like this. Physically or emotionally.”


That was his woman, honest no matter what. She had no idea how to lie to him, and he loved that. He needed it. In his own way, the ride was both terrifying and exhilarating to him. He was taking his one shot at the dream of having someone of his own. Someone who really cared about him, not his money or prestige. Not the awards he’d gotten for his research or getting her picture in magazines or on television because she was on his arm. Never once, with all the times he’d been with a woman had his emotions been just as strong as his physical reaction, and with Cayenne, he found both were off the Richter scale.


“Neither did I,” he admitted. For her. Because she deserved to know.


“Trap.” She leaned down, right over the top of his face, creating a cocoon with her body, showing him just how flexible she really was. “I wouldn’t want to share this kind of pleasure with another man.” Her voice was a soft whisper, but the words penetrated deep, wrapped around his heart and squeezed like a vise at the admission.


“Baby,” he said softly. “You’re killing me. You have no idea what I want to do to you right now. It’s a f*cking good thing you’ve got me tied up in all your silk. Lean over me, one hand by my head. I want to eat all that honey. I’m starving for it.”