Spider Game
Page 66
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CHAPTER 13
I’m getting the best prize, Trap. You’ll always be that for me.
Cayenne’s voice woke Trap from his restless sleep. He was instantly alert. Aware. His body rock hard. Little jackhammers tripped in his head, drilling deep, digging relentlessly at his brain until the pain was brutal.
She was there with him. His body was wrapped possessively around hers, his hands holding her to him, his legs and arms trapping her close. She hadn’t moved in her sleep, not even to put an inch between them. He would have known the moment she’d tried.
When I saw and heard you, there in your room all those nights, I wanted to crawl all over you, to put my mouth on your cock and taste you. I needed to lick you clean. I burned. I burned every night after I saw you do that and didn’t really know how to make it go away.
He closed his eyes, savoring the sound of her voice, remembering the feel of her sinful mouth on him. So hot. Burning her brand into him. The jackhammers drilled deeper, insistently, sending shards of glass through his mind. His cock was pure steel, a thick, savage spike as relentless as the spikes pushing into his brain. Pushing against her body, he couldn’t control the jerk of need, the throb of hunger, the rush of hot blood centering in his groin in a painful demand.
Trap inhaled, taking her scent deep into his lungs. Baby. I can’t sleep anymore. It was still dark and he didn’t need a clock to tell him it was around three A.M. The webs shrouding their bed added to the sensual, erotic need flooding him. I can’t wait, Cayenne. If I don’t fuck you soon, I swear to God, woman, I’m going to come apart.
He felt her pour inside his mind. Nerves were there, but no resistance. She was a little drowsy, but already, he could feel the same urgent need building in her. Not brutal or primitive like it was in him, but there all the same.
He slid his hand up her belly to cup her breast. So soft. Nothing like it. You feel like pure silk. He used his finger and thumb to roll her nipple. To tug gently. An exquisite torture for both of them. He knew from the night before that her breasts were sensitive. He applied a little more pressure, a pinch then a soothing brush. A flash of heat and then another soothing touch.
I want my mouth here. Right now, baby.
His hand urged her to turn slightly so she was on her back. Again she didn’t protest. She went onto her back for him, his body tight against hers, his hand still on her breast. He didn’t wait for her to settle, he dipped his head and took the offering. His mouth closed over her lush right breast, his hand working her left one. He suckled while his fingers kneaded. He used his teeth and tongue while his fingers rolled and tugged.
He may have started out gently, but with every hitch of her breath, every keening gasp and soft mewling cry, he got a little rougher. He used the edge of his teeth, and heard more sweet music from her. He marked her deliberately, several strawberries over the slope of each breast, suckling strong, branding her. His teeth tugged and his tongue soothed.
She arched into him, giving him more, her arms going around his head to hold him to her. He fucking loved that. No matter how much he took, she offered him more. She responded to his rough play, and when he interspersed harsh with gentle, her body writhed against his, silently begging for more.
He slid his hand down her soft belly to trace the pattern of the hourglass nestled in the center of the black curls. Her curls were silky, the red of the hourglass even silkier if that was possible.
I’m going to get a tattoo of this, he murmured softly into her mind, more of a thought than words. The pads of his fingers brushed through the tight curls. A spiderweb and a couple of spiders with this beautiful red hourglass.
You like it? In my hair and also down there? I can’t make it go away. She sounded breathless. Shocked. Sensual. As if the thought of a tattoo matching her hourglass meant something to her.
He was absolutely honest with her. I would be very upset with you if you found a way to make this beautiful hourglass go away. It’s part of you. Why would you want to change that? There was an edge to his voice and in his mind. I fucking love the hourglass. In your hair. In your curls. He stroked the design, feeling the soft tiny straight hairs nestled inside the vee of curls.
I look different from other women.
You look like you. I love the way you look, everything about the way you look, especially the hourglass right here and in your hair.
His hand cupped the patch of curls, fingers curling, finding her warm, wet entrance. His thumb brushed across all that damp heat. For him. Satisfaction eased some of the tightness in his gut. In spite of her nerves, she hadn’t pulled away, and her body responded to his closeness. More, when he slid a finger into her, her body clamped down hard, trying to hold him inside, trying to take him deeper.
She was tight. Hot and tight. He was big and getting inside her might be a challenge, especially because he didn’t want to hurt her. He turned more fully into her, one arm pinning her against him, fastening her there, as if he was afraid she would try to get away. He slid his finger out of her and brought it to his mouth. Her eyes, watching him, went wide and darkened with desire.
You look exotic, Cayenne. Beautiful and exotic. You taste the way you look. I want you until I can’t think of much else. I am going to devour you, baby. I’ve suddenly got a ravenous hunger for your taste.
I would very much like that, Trap.
He heard the but in her voice. Felt it in his mind.
He nuzzled her breast again, afraid of losing her to fear. You’re supposed to like it. I want you to love everything I do to you. He licked along her nipple and then used his teeth to tug, unable to resist. Are you afraid?
I’m nervous, she admitted. Really nervous, but I can feel how much you want this.
He knew it would be impossible for her not to feel how hard he was. How hot and ready. His cock was pushing hard against her hip, the blood pounding, engorged and hungry for her. He hadn’t tried to hide that from her. He wanted her to know what he was like. More, she was in his mind and she couldn’t help but feel the jackhammers tripping in his brain and know he had to have her.
I want you to want it too, baby. I like sex, Cayenne. I fucking love sex. When I come off a project, that’s all I can think about. Now, with you close to me, it’s the same way, but far worse, far more urgent and only for you. I want you every minute of the day. I’m walking around with a fucking hard-on and it’s damn painful. I’m not going to lie to you. I’m going to want you all the time.
I’m getting the best prize, Trap. You’ll always be that for me.
Cayenne’s voice woke Trap from his restless sleep. He was instantly alert. Aware. His body rock hard. Little jackhammers tripped in his head, drilling deep, digging relentlessly at his brain until the pain was brutal.
She was there with him. His body was wrapped possessively around hers, his hands holding her to him, his legs and arms trapping her close. She hadn’t moved in her sleep, not even to put an inch between them. He would have known the moment she’d tried.
When I saw and heard you, there in your room all those nights, I wanted to crawl all over you, to put my mouth on your cock and taste you. I needed to lick you clean. I burned. I burned every night after I saw you do that and didn’t really know how to make it go away.
He closed his eyes, savoring the sound of her voice, remembering the feel of her sinful mouth on him. So hot. Burning her brand into him. The jackhammers drilled deeper, insistently, sending shards of glass through his mind. His cock was pure steel, a thick, savage spike as relentless as the spikes pushing into his brain. Pushing against her body, he couldn’t control the jerk of need, the throb of hunger, the rush of hot blood centering in his groin in a painful demand.
Trap inhaled, taking her scent deep into his lungs. Baby. I can’t sleep anymore. It was still dark and he didn’t need a clock to tell him it was around three A.M. The webs shrouding their bed added to the sensual, erotic need flooding him. I can’t wait, Cayenne. If I don’t fuck you soon, I swear to God, woman, I’m going to come apart.
He felt her pour inside his mind. Nerves were there, but no resistance. She was a little drowsy, but already, he could feel the same urgent need building in her. Not brutal or primitive like it was in him, but there all the same.
He slid his hand up her belly to cup her breast. So soft. Nothing like it. You feel like pure silk. He used his finger and thumb to roll her nipple. To tug gently. An exquisite torture for both of them. He knew from the night before that her breasts were sensitive. He applied a little more pressure, a pinch then a soothing brush. A flash of heat and then another soothing touch.
I want my mouth here. Right now, baby.
His hand urged her to turn slightly so she was on her back. Again she didn’t protest. She went onto her back for him, his body tight against hers, his hand still on her breast. He didn’t wait for her to settle, he dipped his head and took the offering. His mouth closed over her lush right breast, his hand working her left one. He suckled while his fingers kneaded. He used his teeth and tongue while his fingers rolled and tugged.
He may have started out gently, but with every hitch of her breath, every keening gasp and soft mewling cry, he got a little rougher. He used the edge of his teeth, and heard more sweet music from her. He marked her deliberately, several strawberries over the slope of each breast, suckling strong, branding her. His teeth tugged and his tongue soothed.
She arched into him, giving him more, her arms going around his head to hold him to her. He fucking loved that. No matter how much he took, she offered him more. She responded to his rough play, and when he interspersed harsh with gentle, her body writhed against his, silently begging for more.
He slid his hand down her soft belly to trace the pattern of the hourglass nestled in the center of the black curls. Her curls were silky, the red of the hourglass even silkier if that was possible.
I’m going to get a tattoo of this, he murmured softly into her mind, more of a thought than words. The pads of his fingers brushed through the tight curls. A spiderweb and a couple of spiders with this beautiful red hourglass.
You like it? In my hair and also down there? I can’t make it go away. She sounded breathless. Shocked. Sensual. As if the thought of a tattoo matching her hourglass meant something to her.
He was absolutely honest with her. I would be very upset with you if you found a way to make this beautiful hourglass go away. It’s part of you. Why would you want to change that? There was an edge to his voice and in his mind. I fucking love the hourglass. In your hair. In your curls. He stroked the design, feeling the soft tiny straight hairs nestled inside the vee of curls.
I look different from other women.
You look like you. I love the way you look, everything about the way you look, especially the hourglass right here and in your hair.
His hand cupped the patch of curls, fingers curling, finding her warm, wet entrance. His thumb brushed across all that damp heat. For him. Satisfaction eased some of the tightness in his gut. In spite of her nerves, she hadn’t pulled away, and her body responded to his closeness. More, when he slid a finger into her, her body clamped down hard, trying to hold him inside, trying to take him deeper.
She was tight. Hot and tight. He was big and getting inside her might be a challenge, especially because he didn’t want to hurt her. He turned more fully into her, one arm pinning her against him, fastening her there, as if he was afraid she would try to get away. He slid his finger out of her and brought it to his mouth. Her eyes, watching him, went wide and darkened with desire.
You look exotic, Cayenne. Beautiful and exotic. You taste the way you look. I want you until I can’t think of much else. I am going to devour you, baby. I’ve suddenly got a ravenous hunger for your taste.
I would very much like that, Trap.
He heard the but in her voice. Felt it in his mind.
He nuzzled her breast again, afraid of losing her to fear. You’re supposed to like it. I want you to love everything I do to you. He licked along her nipple and then used his teeth to tug, unable to resist. Are you afraid?
I’m nervous, she admitted. Really nervous, but I can feel how much you want this.
He knew it would be impossible for her not to feel how hard he was. How hot and ready. His cock was pushing hard against her hip, the blood pounding, engorged and hungry for her. He hadn’t tried to hide that from her. He wanted her to know what he was like. More, she was in his mind and she couldn’t help but feel the jackhammers tripping in his brain and know he had to have her.
I want you to want it too, baby. I like sex, Cayenne. I fucking love sex. When I come off a project, that’s all I can think about. Now, with you close to me, it’s the same way, but far worse, far more urgent and only for you. I want you every minute of the day. I’m walking around with a fucking hard-on and it’s damn painful. I’m not going to lie to you. I’m going to want you all the time.
