Spider Game (GhostWalkers 12)

She screamed. Writhed. He pinned her hips down with his hands. "Do you understand me? Say you understand, because if you don't, I can keep this up all day. I might anyway, just to prove a point."

Her head thrashed and she yanked at the scarves, trying to reach him. Reach between her legs. She couldn't talk anymore. She couldn't think, her mind in complete chaos. There was a roaring in her ears.

He shifted slightly, cupped her bottom and brought her mound to his mouth. She screamed again as he did exactly what he'd been wanting to do since he saw her in that silken dress. He ate her. Devoured her. His tongue removed honey, now flavored with cinnamon, and he drank it down like a starving man. He used his teeth. He used his tongue. He suckled on her clit and then stroked it with the edge of his teeth.

He bit the inside of her thigh and suckled. Then the other thigh. Using his fingers, he stroked the plug in and out while his tongue danced and she writhed.

Please. Please. Please. Please.

Her chant was music in his ears. He loved the way her body responded to him. He felt the coiling and pushed her higher, wanting to give this to her. He reached down with one hand and slipped her ankle out of the loop in the scarf, guiding it around his shoulders. He did the same to the other. Last, he removed her blindfold. He needed to look into her green eyes when she came.

There's nothing more beautiful than seeing you giving me that gift. That perfect, beautiful moment between my woman and me when I'm loving you, and make no mistake, Cayenne, I'm loving you.

He watched her as she came apart. As her body nearly convulsed, rippling with strong shocks, a tidal wave of pure pleasure that he gave her. It lasted a long time, the waves rolling through her. He felt it in her thighs, saw it in her belly and breasts. Her beautiful face, the dazed shock in her eyes and the way her mouth formed his name as she screamed out, unable to stay silent.

He took one last swipe of her honey and was up on his knees, dragging her closer, pulling each leg around his hips, slamming into her, driving through those rolling waves, feeling the powerful surge, the contractions of those tight, tight muscles. She was scorching hot, surrounding him with fiery, living silk that gripped him and squeezed with a beauty he'd never known before.

He could live there. In her. In her mind. In her body. Sometimes, looking at her, when he was inside her, love for her overwhelmed him. The emotion was so strong, so foreign to him, it brought him to his knees.

I love you, baby. More than life. More than anything.

From the moment he'd removed the scarf from her eyes, her gaze had never left his. Not once. She gave him that, knew instinctively he needed it. He moved in her, hard, brutal strokes, surging in and out of that scalding tight tunnel of pure silk. He loved the feel of her surrounding him like that, gripping and milking. He stroked the plug in and out of her as a counterpoint to his cock, watching her face as one orgasm rolled into another, even more powerful one.

So beautiful. He breathed the truth into her mind. My world. My incredible wife.

He hammered into her, taking her through another powerful climax and straight into a third. He loved watching her face. He couldn't get enough of that look, or the indescribable feeling of pure bliss being inside her body in that tunnel of living silk.

I can't again.

Her voice was breathless. She was already there, clamping down on him with fiery friction, flames dancing as she drew his seed from him, forcing an explosion that left him wrung out, floating with her in some place he'd never been before. If there was ecstasy on earth, right in those moments, he was there.

The emotion for her was so overwhelming he trembled with it as carefully, his body shuddering right along with hers, he began to glide gently in her, bringing her back down with tenderness, as he removed the plug and held her hips to him, still locked together, still moving.

"Unloop the scarves from your wrists, baby."

She lay looking up at him with that wide, dazed expression he loved so much. "I don't think I can. I can't move. I really can't." The aftershocks were strong, her body still rippling with life around his.

Her breasts heaved with every ragged breath she drew into her lungs. Her gaze, so green, like two gems, moved over his face. There was stark love on her soft, beautiful features. Stark. Raw. Certain. The expression ripped into his heart, shredded his soul and put him back together again.

"I love you, baby," he whispered. "So damn much I don't know how to show you."

"You showed me," she whispered.

"Did I scare you?"

She shook her head, her green gaze moving over his face, still claiming him, still loving him. His heart stuttered in his chest. He'd never felt more vulnerable in his life.

"I trust you, Trap. It was exciting. The most exhilarating, beautiful experience of my life. I felt your love surrounding me."

He'd wanted her to feel it. Wanted her to understand that no matter how much of an ass he was, how foul his mood, how vulgar he sounded, he loved her and he would never harm her. He'd cut out his own heart before he harmed her.

"You knew you could get loose, right? Anytime you wanted?"

She nodded. "Not at first, but later when I had to grip the scarves."

"And you know, all you have to do if you don't like something is to say no and I'll stop. Immediately. That's all it takes. We can talk about it and how it made you feel. Always, baby, no matter what I'm saying, what's coming out of my mouth, when I touch you, you should feel love. You don't, you don't feel safe, you say so and we stop. That's a promise."

"You don't have to tell me that, Trap. I know."

"I can't ever let you go. I don't want you to be my fucking prisoner, Cayenne, but I can't ever let you go."

"Come here," she whispered softly in her voice. The one that crept into a man's head. Into his soul. "Come here to me. I want to feel your weight."

He slowly lowered her legs to the mattress from around his waist where he'd drawn them as he'd hammered into her. She seemed far too small and fragile for the rough sex they'd shared. She'd loved it. She pleaded with him for harder. For more. She'd sobbed for relief, but she'd never once stopped him.

He gently stretched out over the top of her, feeling his cock jerk, pulsate with the friction his action caused, but for once in his life he was going soft. Not semisoft, but actually fully relaxed. He kissed her eyes, brushed kisses along her cheekbone and down to the corner of her mouth.

"I love your mouth. Did you know that? I can't ever get enough of kissing you. Or your taste."

She wrapped her arms around his neck, hands sliding into his hair. The action lifted her breasts, pushing them tight into his chest. "I don't ever want you to let me go, Trap. You have to understand something about me. I want you to listen and hear me. Really hear me."

He propped himself up on one elbow to take his weight, allowing his body to release hers, his cock sliding across her hip to rest there while he shifted so he was partially off of her. "I can do that."

"You're uncomfortable around people, Trap, even, sometimes, the ones you know and care for. You have affection for them and a fierce loyalty. I feel that loyalty toward them because they make you happy. I like that. I hope to establish friendships with them because of you. Maybe with Nonny, Pepper and Flame for myself. But regardless, I'll always be uncomfortable around people, just as you are. I spent my life alone. I've let you in. I'll let our children in. Deep. Somewhere deep. But I'm not built for large crowds. Maybe it's the spider in me. I don't know. Whatever it is, I spend my time with you, and if we have children, them, and I'll be content."

He was silent, aware of his heart pounding hard. She meant that. The money. The fame. The cameras and society trappings meant nothing at all to her. Living there in the swamp, she was most comfortable.

"I'll give you whatever fucking thing you want, Cayenne," he promised, meaning it. "I'll keep you happy, right here in this crazy place that we're turning into a home. Just say the word and it's yours."

Cayenne

studied his face. One hand brushed along his jaw and then her fingers slid over his lips. Her hand dropped to his chest to press him back onto the bed. "I take it you're finished being a world-class bastard for the day?" she asked, turning in his arms to slide one thigh over his. She straddled him, her legs spread wide over his hips, the pads of her fingers stroking his belly.

He nodded. "You tamed the beast as usual, Cayenne." He was silent for a long moment, watching her face closely.

She could feel him moving in her mind. Moody. Brooding even. Sated. Loving her. She stretched out on top of him, just as sated. "You know why you were upset, don't you, Trap? It had nothing to do with me not wearing a bra or Malichai. You know that, right?"

She laid her head over his heart, listening to it beat. So strong. Steady. Her Trap, loving her so much. She slid one hand up to his shoulder, the other curled around the nape of his neck. Even stretched out, she couldn't cover his broad chest. But she was where it counted, right over his heart.

"I know." The admission was low.

"I'm not going anywhere." She kept her voice just as low, searching for the right words. She knew he would always have that fear of losing her. She just hoped it would lessen over time. "There will never be another man for me, Trap. I'm not helpless or vulnerable, except to you. Not another human being. Not even Nonny, and I like her. A lot. When you get like that, it can't be about you being jealous because, deep down, you know you have no reason to be. I'll never give you a reason to be. You have to recognize that what you're feeling is fear--fear of losing me in some way."

He rubbed his palm along her thigh to the crease just under her buttock. He liked that soft crease and massaged there before moving his palm over her bottom. He liked that her rounded cheeks, silk over sleek, firm muscle, fit into his hand. He felt absolutely at peace. Content.

"They're out there. The uncles." He said it matter-of-factly. He never thought, in a million years, that he would feel so calm thinking about facing the men who had destroyed his family. They'd taken something from him he could never get back. He would always have a deep-seated fear that something would rip Cayenne away from him. "They came at night while we were gone, and they'll be back, maybe tonight. I saw them on the security tapes."

"I know," she said with equal calm. "They don't matter to us, Trap. They can't hurt you. Not anymore. They may want to, but they can't."

"They came for the money." His hand smoothed over the curve of her left cheek and up into the hollow of her spine. "It's really about money, not revenge. Not because of my father. They left him there. They didn't even try to save him. They didn't care about him. I paid the ransom for my aunt, and they've used the money to hide. To disappear. They want more money."

"Does it really matter?" She yawned, kissed his chest right over his beating heart. "We're going to kill them. Both of them. You know that." She stated it just as matter-of-factly as if they were discussing the weather. "Right now, I need to sleep, but before I do, we need to finish our discussion. It hurt today. On the plane. The things you accused me of. Trap, I didn't like it. I know when you get afraid, you get ugly. I get that. I do. It's okay with me if you have to withdraw. It's even okay if you have to be rude and ugly, but not with me. Not at me."

She nuzzled him with her chin, her green eyes on his face. "That hurt a lot, honey."

His hand moved up her spine, taking in the silken perfection of her skin. "I don't know how to stop myself when I'm like that. I try, baby, but I've been using that rudeness to push people away for so long, I'm not certain I can stop."

"I'm not asking you to stop, Trap, I'm asking you to have a care about what you say to me. Swear. Be an ass. Be remote. But don't make it so personal that you accuse me of wanting to be with someone else."

"I didn't like seeing him touch you. I didn't like the thought of you giving him your silk. You want to tie someone up, babe, that someone is me."

She nodded. "I understand that, but I didn't want to tie him up, and you should have known that. You need to come to my rescue when your friends are pushing me to do something that makes not only you, but me, uncomfortable. They're your friends. It's your brotherhood. I'm trying to fit in and follow your lead. I don't know how to have friends. I don't know how to work with a team. If you don't have my back, I'm floundering and will most likely make mistakes neither of us want."

His hands smoothed back down her spine to that hollow just above her buttocks and then lower to slide over the swell of both cheeks again. Soothing her. Soothing him. He held her to him, savoring the feel of her there.

"That's what I'm asking for, Trap. You have a care when you feel jealous or fearful of losing me and you take my back. I don't need diamonds or beautiful dresses, I need that from you."

He took a breath. Let it out. Searched her face. She meant that. The only thing she asked of him. Not his money. Not what he could get her. Just this. "Then it's yours, Cayenne. Understand I'm going to fall down a few more times before I get it right, but I'll be trying my best to give you what you need." He locked his arms around her, holding her to him. "Sleep there. Right there. I'm going to be waking you up in a couple of hours again. You know that, don't you?"

She nuzzled his chest and flicked his flat nipple with her tongue. "I expect you to wake me up, and I'll be very disappointed if you don't. I should go get cleaned up though."

He heard the exhaustion in her voice and kept his arms locked tight around her. "Sleep with my seed deep inside you baby. If I'm lucky, you'll get pregnant."

She closed her eyes. He felt the drift of her lashes against his skin. "I already am," she whispered against his heart, and then her breathing evened out.

He lay there just holding her. His heart pounding. His mind shocked at the happiness flooding him when he knew his uncles were coming for him. No, coming for her. For Cayenne. His pregnant wife. He should have been reaching out to his fellow GhostWalkers to help him dispose of his uncles, but he had her. His very lethal, pregnant wife.

CHAPTER 22

Trap woke Cayenne two hours later and made love to her. Gentle, tender love. He was careful of her, each stroke almost lazy. Languid. As if they had all the time in the world. It was still light out, and he ran her a bath, carried her to the bathtub and sat in it with her so he could wash her body with just as much care and tenderness. After checking the security tapes and seeing no action, he tucked her back in bed, tight against him, his arm around her waist, her breast cupped in his palm and they fell asleep like that, close, his body around hers protectively.

Cayenne woke him not more than an hour later, her mouth working his cock. Taking him deep, so that he was already hard and ready before he opened his eyes. Groaning with pleasure, he watched her, appreciating the sight of her, loving that she derived so much enjoyment from the act. She loved him with every stroke of her tongue. Every tight pull of her mouth. When she took him deep or brought him shallow. When she hollowed her cheeks, hummed and flattened her tongue or sent it dancing.

She straddled him and rode him rough. He used the strength of his hips to surge into her while his hands at her waist brought her down with firm, intense strokes. He loved watching her breasts jolt and sway each time he slammed her down on his cock. She changed the pace repeatedly, spiraling her hips down, working his cock the way she would a pole. Impaling herself over and over until her entire body was flushed a beautiful rose. Until her breath came in ragged pants.

He watched her face as the powerful orgasm swept her away, and her body took his with it. She merely slumped over him, right there, with his cock deep inside of her.

"Lift up a little, honey," she murmured. She sounded sated and happy. "Put space between your hips and back and the mattress."

He obeyed without question. Her body still sheathed his cock in her tight, scorching tunnel and that was all that mattered to him. She slid one hand under him and silk began to enclose them both, wrapping them in a tight weave, a cocoon of sheer silk, tying them together, her body over his, her head

on his chest. His thighs and lower legs were free as were his arms and head, but they were locked together, woven in silk. He knew, had he asked, she would have suspended them from the ceiling so they could rock together in a cradle. He knew he'd suggest that one day soon.

She murmured something soft against his chest, mostly breath. Mostly air. He knew it was love. She fell back asleep. Trap lay awake for a long time, savoring the feeling of her there, locked to him even in her sleep. She wrapped him up with her arms and legs so that she surrounded him, and they were locked in her silk together, his cock deep inside her, so that he breathed her in with every breath he drew.

He fantasized about all sorts of things she could make from her silk. Various swings, from bondage to double swings to spinning ones. So many possibilities. A sex stool with maybe a vibrating dildo she could impale herself on while she sucked him off. A sling. One that he could restrain her in, keeping her wide open to him. One she could restrain him in. Definitely endless possibilities.

Go to sleep, crazy man.

I'm working here. For us. I'm an idea man.

For yourself. And you lack imagination when it comes to silk. I already have thought of several really great ideas. Of course, since I'll have you at my mercy, I don't know how great you'll think they are until after. Then I know you'll love them.

As long as turnabout is fair play, I'm in. All the way.

I'm holding you to that. Now go to sleep. I'm exhausted.

Thinking about those various swings and slings has me all hot and bothered.

I can feel you, already hard as a rock. Seriously, Trap. I think you could go all night. There was amusement in her voice. Drowsy. Sexy. She wasn't saying no, but she was amused. Her hips moved subtly, locked in place by the silk.

Of course I can go all night. He could prove it to her. All day and night.

He moved with her. Gently. Barely. A whisper of movement. So sexy his heart jerked in his chest in time to his cock jerking and swelling more. Still, she was exhausted, and he liked the idea of her sleeping just like this. With him filling her. Stretching her. He brushed a kiss on top of her head. "Go back to sleep, baby. I will too."