Spider Game (GhostWalkers 12)

She rubbed her chin along the top of her knees trying to figure out what to do. Trap was a difficult, complicated man. Granted, she didn't know about relationships, but she could feel how much he wanted her. Not just wanted, although there was a part of him that wished that what he felt for her was just physical, but it wasn't. She knew that. She was in his mind and she caught glimpses of his vulnerability. He felt exposed. Raw. Afraid. Of what she wasn't certain, but to protect himself, he allowed jealousy to rule.

The tip of her tongue moistened her bottom lip. For the first time in her life, she knew she could make a decision that was hers alone. Trap couldn't force her to do anything. It was her choice to stay with him or to go. It was her choice to figure out what bothered him so much that a man as strong as he was couldn't face it, or to walk away from him.

The thing was, she wanted him to belong to her. If that meant it would take some work on her part to understand him, she was going to do it. She didn't sense cruelty in him the way she had in others. He was a man of strength, but he didn't hurt others on purpose. He actually was quite kind in his heart, and that made him vulnerable. He hid that kindness, didn't want anyone to see it, but she did.

Trap Dawkins was going to be her choice. She was going to learn how to have a relationship from him. She was going to learn how best to please him. And she was going to learn how to handle things when he lost his mind and struck out using one emotion to cover another. Because that was her choice. She found herself smiling, feeling empowered. Determined. Her man was going to teach her things about sex, but again, on her terms. He needed to learn who she was, just as she had to figure him out.

Trap stripped and headed for the shower. The cool water did nothing to cool his body or the images running around in his head. He took care of his cock, but it didn't seem to help. In the end he lay in his bed--the bed that was finally big enough to accommodate his size--and stared up at the ceiling. He had a fan, but he didn't use it. The room was cool enough, his body temperature was just too high because the molten lava still moved slow and hot through his veins.

He'd never wanted a woman the way he did Cayenne. The need was sharp and terrible. His cock refused to soften. His body refused to relax. He couldn't get the images of her wrapping her lips around him and taking him in her mouth out of his head.

He fisted his shaft with his hand, made small circles, pumped, but he did so almost absently. The hand job in the shower hadn't worked, so he knew he was in for a long night and he was damned tired. He'd been up for days. He let his lashes drift down and almost immediately smelled her unique fragrance. He stayed still, forcing himself to breath evenly. She was in the room with him. Right there. Close. Close enough to draw the scent of her deep.

He kept his hand moving. Slow. Lazy. A slide. A jerk. Knowing she was watching him. Needing her to watch. Excitement moved through him, a wave of heat. Very slowly he opened his eyes, and there she was. His breath caught in his throat. She was above him, clinging to the ceiling with her hands and toes, body spread out, naked. Her ass was beautiful. The slope of her back, the curve of her hips and the small, tucked-in waist gleamed. Her hair spilled in a dark cloud around her shoulders and cascaded in waves like a dark waterfall flowing from the ceiling. Her green eyes were on his fist. His cock. Watching. Fascinated. Hungry.

Before he could move, silken threads shot out and wrapped his upper body into a snug cocoon. Tying him. Preventing his arms from moving. He tested the silken strands, knowing that spiderwebs woven like this could be stronger than Kevlar. There was no breaking those threads. He lay there, seemingly helpless. At her mercy.

Trap was a man all about control--especially in the bedroom--but there was no denying he found the situation hot. Her body was flawless. Mind-blowing. She dropped from the ceiling, dangling from silken skeins. He could see her full, beautiful breasts, the darker nipples, already peaked for him. She had tiny tight curls of black at the junction between her legs, but there was that red streak right down the center in the shape of an hourglass--directly over the path to her glistening lips. She was already wet for him.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he demanded, but he didn't care what she was doing. His voice was hoarse, and lust welled up in a brutal, savage demand. He knew the sight of her dangling over him, stark naked, would be burned in his mind forever. He would always have that erotic picture to take out and examine whenever he wanted.

Her gaze drifted over his body, lingered on the heavy erection he held in his fist. The silken strands held his wrists down, but his cock jutted out right below the webbing. His cock, and one fist. The other hand was trapped on his chest. Again he tested the bindings with a burst of strength. They held.

The tip of her tongue came out to lick at her full bottom lip. His gaze jumped to her mouth. She had full lips. A bow of ruby red. Not pink. Red. Like the hourglass made up of tight red curls. Beautiful. Unbelievable. The things he wanted to do to her filled his mind.

"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.

In his hand, his cock thickened more. He was a big man and she had him nearly bursting right through his fist. He could feel his pulse pounding, the blood so hot, engorging his erection until he pulsed and throbbed with need. He wanted, even needed her mouth on him, but as she moved up his body, she ignored that raging part of him. His fist continued to pump, but the rhythm changed so that it wasn't at all lazy as it had been.

She crawled up his body, sliding her naked limbs over him, clearly feeling much braver with him bundled tight in all that silk. The junction of her legs left a hot damp trail over his thighs as she moved up him. Her breasts felt soft and inviting, her nipples twin points that seared him right through the ropes of silk as she inched up him.

"You're nice and wet for me, baby," he managed to get out, as the heat between her legs bathed him in liquid moisture. He'd never felt anything sexier in his life. He'd certainly never seen anything more sensual than the way she moved up his body. "I can make you feel really good. Untie me."

"I'm feeling really good already," she whispered, her gaze dropping to his mouth. Her hands skimmed his chest right through the silken bonds. "Next time, I'm going to tie you like you want to tie me. I see the advantage of it now. I improvised, but it doesn't give me full access to your body, and I want to explore every inch of you."

His cock jumped in his fist. The blood pounded there and roared in his ears. Little jackhammers began to trip in his head. "You untie me, I'll let you explore."

Her green eyes drifted over his face, studying his expression, committing the angles and planes to memory. He knew what she saw. Face darkened with desire. Hooded eyes filled with lust. With hunger. He knew before she shook her head that she wasn't going to untie him. She didn't feel safe.

"I need to do this. You'd take over."

He would. He couldn't deny that. "Baby, even if I do, you'll feel good in the end, I promise. I can show you things . . ."

She shook her head. "I learn things for myself. But first"--her fingers moved through his hair--"I want to kiss you again. I can't stop thinking about the way you kissed me. It was unlike anything I ever imagined, and I thought about kissing a lot."

"Have at it, baby. I don't want you to think I'd ever deprive you of that," he said. His cock was on fire. She was beautiful with that waterfall of hair and amazing green eyes. She wanted him. Her body was as hot as hell. The junction between her legs left a scorching slide of need along his chest and burned like an inferno right through the silk. He was afraid she was so hot she might melt those threads, but then he'd be free to do whatever he wanted to her.

Watching his expression, slowly, inch by slow inch, she lowered her head to his. Her mouth skimmed. Gently. A whisper of touch. Featherlight. Back and forth over his lips. Unexpectedly, she brushed a kiss over each of his eyes and trailed more along his cheekbone, and then used the tip of her tongue, as if tasting his skin. He had no idea why that moved him, but he felt those little touches, not in his burning cock, but in the region of his heart.

Before he could say anything, her mouth settled over his. He gave her that first press of her tongue into his mouth. His heart jerked hard in his chest. That touch he felt in his cock. The feel of her lips, the small, moist invasion, stroking along his tongue, so tentative. He swore her mouth was a match and she just lit a powder keg.

He couldn't wrap his arms around her, but he took over the kiss and she let him. He liked kissing her. No, he actually loved kissing her. She gave herself to him, pouring her taste and need right down his throat. He took everything she gave and demanded more. He wanted her as hot for him as he was for her.

I am. There was a little sobbing note in her voice. I want you, but I'm not coming to you until I'm not so scared. I have to trust you, and I don't know how to trust.

That little admission tore him up. It's all right, baby, you take what you need from me. I have patience. Just know that a little fear can add to the excitement of what we're doing here. He gave her that because it was necessary to soothe her some way and he couldn't hold her in his arms to give her reassurance. Cayenne deserved comfort. He couldn't imagine how afraid she must have been every day of her life in that laboratory with guards surrounding her and men's fear of her beating at her.

You aren't afraid of me. I paralyzed you. I would do it again if you scared me too much. She lifted her head reluctantly as she made the admission, her green gaze moving over his face broodingly, as if she couldn't quite believe he wasn't afraid and she was looking for the truth.

He realized she was afraid of herself, of what she might do, and he needed to give her the confidence to keep going, to claim his body for her own. She didn't know she was claiming his heart. She needed to learn to trust herself much more than she needed to trust him at this point. He could give her that as well.

CHAPTER 8

Trap held Cayenne's gaze. She was definitely affected by his kisses. Her breasts rose and fell fast now, her breath coming in ragged gasps. He was fairly certain if she didn't move, the spot where the junction of her legs rested on his chest really was going to melt right through the silken ties.

Baby, you're my woman. That means I'm your man. No matter how afraid you get, you're not really going to harm me. I could never hurt you. Not for any reason, although--deliberately he narrowed his eyes--I intend to retaliate over that bite. My woman doesn't paralyze me and then leave me for Wyatt and the boys to tease mercilessly. You just left me there alone.

You weren't alone, and I checked on you.

I told you not to come to Wyatt's home. You could have been shot. That had scared him when he realized she'd come back to the Fontenot home after he'd warned her away. He'd reached out to Ezekiel and

warned him, asking him to allow her through.

Trap had sensed her need, a terrible, dark need welling up so strong that in the end she'd awakened not only Nonny, but Wyatt and the other team members as well. She hadn't known she was broadcasting such distress because they stayed away and allowed him to comfort her on his own, but they knew and it upset all of them on her behalf.

"Touch yourself."

Her long lashes fluttered. She sank back on his chest, straddling him, her knees on either side of his ribs, her green gaze on his face. He could see she was tempted to follow his instructions, but he realized if she did it, she'd comply because he asked her, not because she realized how it would make her body feel.

"Cup your breasts, baby." He kept his voice low. Gentle. Seductive. His heart pounded while he waited for her to make up her mind.

Very slowly she brought her palms up under her breasts. His breath left his body in a rush. Just that action sent damp heat spilling from between her legs to moisten the silk and his chest where her sex was pressed to him.

"That's beautiful, Cayenne. See how beautiful you are? Tug on your nipples. Stroke them. Pull. Imagine my hands on you. That's what I'm doing. My hands are big. I can be a little rough. Do you like it rough or gentle? Which makes your body come alive? Are your breasts sensitive?"

She followed his instructions to the letter, her fingers gentle, then rougher. Pinching. Tugging. Rolling. It was so hot watching her he was afraid his cock would explode. He followed the movement with his fist wrapped tightly around his thick shaft. Her breath came in ragged gasps, and she threw her head back.

"Feel good, baby? That's what I'd do to you, but more. Now lean toward me. Feed me your right breast, but keep working on your left nipple."

She didn't stop what she was doing, but she hesitated before she again did as he asked, scooting up his chest, dragging her hot entrance over him, leaving a trail of moist heat in her wake. A moan slipped up her throat as the silk massaged her sex, adding to the burn building in her. She leaned slowly toward him, watching his face as if mesmerized by the dark lust she saw there. Her nipple teased his closed lips, sliding along the seam. Watching her closely, he opened his mouth and curled his tongue around the offering.