Spider Game (GhostWalkers, #12)(95)
He hoped it was enough. There was a moment of silence. Of stillness. She pushed back to put a little space between them and waited for him to give her his gaze. He shouldn’t have worried. He should have known. It was there on her face.
“Yeah, baby,” he murmured. “You got it. You understand what I’m saying to you. No matter what I f*cking act like, even if it’s me being a bastard, you have this from me. You always will.”
She leaned in and took his mouth. He loved that about her. She took him in the same way he took her. Claiming him. Using her mouth, her hands, her body, to let him know he belonged to her. Her kiss was sweet. Tender. Loving. Her tongue pushing into his mouth, searching, dancing. He let her have that because she turned him inside out when she did it.
Eventually he took over, like he often did, because he needed more. He needed her to know what she meant to him, and he kissed her like he meant it, because he f*cking did. When he lifted his head her mouth trailed kisses to his jaw, his chin and then underneath to his throat.
“I just need you to know, Trap,” she said, trailing more kisses along his collarbone, nuzzling his shirt aside so she could get to skin. “If you’re a bastard to me, I will retaliate. I don’t much like getting walked on.”
His cock jerked hard inside her. He loved that about her too. She might look small and delicate, but she was pure steel. She stood up to him and gave as good as she got. What he appreciated most about that was that Cayenne chose her moments. She waited for him to get over being a bastard before she called him on it. When she did that, when she gave him those times, it only made him want to try all the harder to be a better man for her.
“Looking forward to that, baby,” he assured her. His hands spanned her waist and he reluctantly lifted her off of him. “I should have carried something to clean you up.”
“I did,” she said, smirking at him. “You don’t go very long before you want sex, Trap, so I thought keeping a few of those little towelette thingies would be a good idea.” She picked up her jeans and pulled out a small square. Ripping the packet open with her teeth, she drew out the wet cloth. “Since I like feasting on your cock, I brought a toothbrush too.” She flashed a little grin.
Trap took it from her and carefully wiped her thighs and in between her legs. She leaned into him and lapped at his cock.
“Baby, you’ll just get me hard again.”
“I know. I like you that way.” She laughed softly and took out another packet to clean him with. “Seriously, Trap, I don’t get why any woman wouldn’t want this.”
“I do you on a table and you’re happy. The floor. The wall. Outside. On the roof. You just give that to me, Cayenne.”
“No, silly. You give that to me. You also try to fix all my screwups. The laundry, our breakfast and dinners. You give me anything I want. I’m spoiled.”
“I tie you up and take you the way I want to.”
“I tie you and do what I want.”
She pulled on her jeans, and he reached down to help her zip and button them. He didn’t say anything else because he couldn’t. She was there with him. Right there in the swamp, surrounded by brush and flowers and moss, and she didn’t give a damn that she was wearing socks in the dirt and he’d just f*cked her raw. She might not say “I love you” to him, but she showed him with everything she did. She made him feel it.
He pulled up his own jeans as she put on her shoes. Her head was bent and he could see the red hourglass in her cloud of black, shiny hair. The red gleamed through the glossy black silk. He couldn’t help himself. He followed the pattern in her hair, caressing the red strands that often disappeared into the thick mass. He rubbed them between his thumb and finger, his heart hammering in his chest.
“You ready, baby?”
“Yes.” She stood up, her gaze meeting his. “Thank you, Trap. I was so nervous about this, but you make me feel steady.”
She was thanking him for carrying her off into the damn swamp and f*cking her. She was killing him. Ripping him up inside. Shattering his heart into a million pieces and taking every piece into her keeping. He caught the back of her head in his palm and took her mouth, pouring himself into her, pouring every emotion he felt into that sweet, sweet mouth. He hadn’t even known he could feel so much or so deeply.
She didn’t hesitate, but then she never did. She kissed him back, just as deep, just as hot, giving him everything she was. He lifted his head before he turned around, took her home and tore her clothes off her. He could spend the rest of his life in bed with her.
She laughed softly as he threaded his finger through her belt loop and pulled her in close to him. “You couldn’t, you know.”
“Couldn’t what?”
“Stay in bed with me the rest of your life. You’d be bored. I watch you, Trap, and if you don’t go into that laboratory, you start to get restless.”
That was true. There was no denying it. She was very observant. He loved that about her too, because never once had she objected. Even when he’d worked forty-eight hours straight. She’d brought him food and disappeared. Then she’d come in with bottles of water, and he’d f*cked her on the floor. He hadn’t said a word to her, just caught her around the waist, ripped off her clothes and slammed inside of her. She was ready for him. Always ready. She’d left without a word between them, gathering up her clothes and leaving him to his work.