Viper Game
Page 113
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She stood there, across the room from him, looking so beautiful he ached inside. He’d hurt her. He didn’t hurt women and he especially didn’t hurt his woman.
“I don’ think of you as a possession, honey, I think of you as my better half. My partner. And I need my lover before I go up in flames. So the biggest question I’ve got right now, sugar, is what are you wearin’ under that skirt and camisole? You might want to show me.”
Her eyebrow shot up. “After your mean comment on my clothes, do you think you deserve to know?”
Oh, yeah, she was his. Her eyes were soft and desire for him was there. She was wholly focused. On him. Wholly. That was another thing he loved about her.
“You’re not a woman who holds a grudge, babe. And we both know you’re wet for me, no other man, little darlin’, just for me. And you’re hot for me. I’m thinkin’ right now you wouldn’t mind my mouth between your legs. So show me the underwear.” He crossed his arms over his chest, his eyes hooded, a little brooding, as he watched her. “And just so you know, that little attitude of yours only made me harder. You need to do somethin’ about it, so show me the damn underwear.”
Pepper tilted her head to one side, a small smile on her face. She unzipped the skirt and stepped out of it. The boots lovingly shaped her legs and did amazing things to her ass, just like he knew they would. She stayed across the room from him as she turned around and showed him the sexy French-cut red panties edged with white lace that framed her butt cheeks and showed a lot of magnificent bare skin. He’d picked those out himself and they were a particular favorite. All the time she’d been hiding them under her skirt.
He didn’t bother to hide the desire flaring in his eyes. His hand dropped to his cock once again, because he needed something around all that heat. His fist was tight, but it wasn’t hot, wet silk. “The top, baby, lose the top for me.”
Both hands went up to the buttons on the front of the camisole. She took her time, slowly sliding them through the tiny enclosures. The sight of her, the time it took, mesmerized him. His mouth went dry and then just as suddenly he was flooded with the taste of her. Her scent permeated the room. Heady. Potent. Exotic. All his.
She kept her eyes on his face as she slowly unwrapped herself for him. A gift. A present. Her top slid away and there she was, her beautiful breasts, high and full, jutting out at him, nipples already taut with need. She wore only the red lace panties and those fuck-me high-heeled boots.
“I want your hair down.” He loved her hair down. “I need your hair fallin’ all around the pillow when I come inside you. I want to hear my name when you come hard. Every time you come hard.”
She smiled at him and shook her head as her hands went to her hair and she unclipped the waterfall of black silk. He loved the little strange patterns in her hair. He always found himself intrigued by them when he sat beside her. Little rosettes, but so faint a man wasn’t really certain they were there. Another thing he loved and found fascinating about her.
He crooked his finger at her. She came to him without hesitation. When she was close, she crouched down in front of him and unlaced his boots. He leaned against the wall, one hand on her bare shoulder and let her pull his boots off. The moment he touched her, heat flared between them. Electricity crackled.
Her hands slid up the columns of his thighs, sending streaks of fire straight to his groin. She hooked her fingers in his jeans and dragged them down, waiting until he stepped out of them before her hands got busy again, moving over his legs, up his calves and shins over his thighs. He felt the brush of her hair.
He slid his fist into all her glorious hair and tugged until her head came up. Her tongue had been sliding up his inner thigh and he nearly lost it. “On the bed, babe.”
“Wyatt,” she whispered, looking at his cock, disappointment in her eyes.
Who had a woman like her? How could he not want to keep her? To protect her? She enjoyed giving him pleasure. It was impossible not to love her just for that. She had a soft spot inside of her, the one he wanted to protect. She was the sexiest woman alive, but trained to be a deadly soldier. Major turn-on. And then she had that knife…
“You’ll get your chance, woman. Right now, I’m so damned hungry I could eat you alive. Get on the bed. Take off the panties so I don’ go crazy and rip them off of you. You can leave the boots on.”
He reached down with one hand and helped her to her feet. Graceful. Fluid. Her body moved like poetry. She walked across the room in front of him, her hips swaying, her long hair falling like a waterfall down her back to the curve of her very fine ass. She crawled onto the bed. Knees and hands, looking over her shoulder at him. Crawled. If it was possible, he got harder. He hadn’t thought a woman could make him come just by crawling on a bed, but now he considered it.
She rolled over and lay down, the same graceful, fluid movement that robbed a man of both breath and sanity.
“Put your hands above your head and keep them there. Open your legs for me.”
She did both without a word. No questions. Her face soft. Her eyes hot. Her breasts shifted and beckoned. He could see the moisture caught in the tight little curls at the junction of her legs. His mouth watered and he knelt at the end of the bed to move between her boots, and then her thighs.
She smelled like heaven. He licked up her thigh and plunged his tongue deep, hungry for her addicting taste. He’d been craving her honeyed spice for two weeks, going through withdrawals, and he devoured her like the starving man he was. She cried out, a mewling keen with his name on her breath. Her body thrashed, her head tossed and she came hard, spilling treasure in his mouth.
“I don’ think of you as a possession, honey, I think of you as my better half. My partner. And I need my lover before I go up in flames. So the biggest question I’ve got right now, sugar, is what are you wearin’ under that skirt and camisole? You might want to show me.”
Her eyebrow shot up. “After your mean comment on my clothes, do you think you deserve to know?”
Oh, yeah, she was his. Her eyes were soft and desire for him was there. She was wholly focused. On him. Wholly. That was another thing he loved about her.
“You’re not a woman who holds a grudge, babe. And we both know you’re wet for me, no other man, little darlin’, just for me. And you’re hot for me. I’m thinkin’ right now you wouldn’t mind my mouth between your legs. So show me the underwear.” He crossed his arms over his chest, his eyes hooded, a little brooding, as he watched her. “And just so you know, that little attitude of yours only made me harder. You need to do somethin’ about it, so show me the damn underwear.”
Pepper tilted her head to one side, a small smile on her face. She unzipped the skirt and stepped out of it. The boots lovingly shaped her legs and did amazing things to her ass, just like he knew they would. She stayed across the room from him as she turned around and showed him the sexy French-cut red panties edged with white lace that framed her butt cheeks and showed a lot of magnificent bare skin. He’d picked those out himself and they were a particular favorite. All the time she’d been hiding them under her skirt.
He didn’t bother to hide the desire flaring in his eyes. His hand dropped to his cock once again, because he needed something around all that heat. His fist was tight, but it wasn’t hot, wet silk. “The top, baby, lose the top for me.”
Both hands went up to the buttons on the front of the camisole. She took her time, slowly sliding them through the tiny enclosures. The sight of her, the time it took, mesmerized him. His mouth went dry and then just as suddenly he was flooded with the taste of her. Her scent permeated the room. Heady. Potent. Exotic. All his.
She kept her eyes on his face as she slowly unwrapped herself for him. A gift. A present. Her top slid away and there she was, her beautiful breasts, high and full, jutting out at him, nipples already taut with need. She wore only the red lace panties and those fuck-me high-heeled boots.
“I want your hair down.” He loved her hair down. “I need your hair fallin’ all around the pillow when I come inside you. I want to hear my name when you come hard. Every time you come hard.”
She smiled at him and shook her head as her hands went to her hair and she unclipped the waterfall of black silk. He loved the little strange patterns in her hair. He always found himself intrigued by them when he sat beside her. Little rosettes, but so faint a man wasn’t really certain they were there. Another thing he loved and found fascinating about her.
He crooked his finger at her. She came to him without hesitation. When she was close, she crouched down in front of him and unlaced his boots. He leaned against the wall, one hand on her bare shoulder and let her pull his boots off. The moment he touched her, heat flared between them. Electricity crackled.
Her hands slid up the columns of his thighs, sending streaks of fire straight to his groin. She hooked her fingers in his jeans and dragged them down, waiting until he stepped out of them before her hands got busy again, moving over his legs, up his calves and shins over his thighs. He felt the brush of her hair.
He slid his fist into all her glorious hair and tugged until her head came up. Her tongue had been sliding up his inner thigh and he nearly lost it. “On the bed, babe.”
“Wyatt,” she whispered, looking at his cock, disappointment in her eyes.
Who had a woman like her? How could he not want to keep her? To protect her? She enjoyed giving him pleasure. It was impossible not to love her just for that. She had a soft spot inside of her, the one he wanted to protect. She was the sexiest woman alive, but trained to be a deadly soldier. Major turn-on. And then she had that knife…
“You’ll get your chance, woman. Right now, I’m so damned hungry I could eat you alive. Get on the bed. Take off the panties so I don’ go crazy and rip them off of you. You can leave the boots on.”
He reached down with one hand and helped her to her feet. Graceful. Fluid. Her body moved like poetry. She walked across the room in front of him, her hips swaying, her long hair falling like a waterfall down her back to the curve of her very fine ass. She crawled onto the bed. Knees and hands, looking over her shoulder at him. Crawled. If it was possible, he got harder. He hadn’t thought a woman could make him come just by crawling on a bed, but now he considered it.
She rolled over and lay down, the same graceful, fluid movement that robbed a man of both breath and sanity.
“Put your hands above your head and keep them there. Open your legs for me.”
She did both without a word. No questions. Her face soft. Her eyes hot. Her breasts shifted and beckoned. He could see the moisture caught in the tight little curls at the junction of her legs. His mouth watered and he knelt at the end of the bed to move between her boots, and then her thighs.
She smelled like heaven. He licked up her thigh and plunged his tongue deep, hungry for her addicting taste. He’d been craving her honeyed spice for two weeks, going through withdrawals, and he devoured her like the starving man he was. She cried out, a mewling keen with his name on her breath. Her body thrashed, her head tossed and she came hard, spilling treasure in his mouth.
