Toxic Game (GhostWalkers 15)

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She moistened her lips and handed him the samovar warmer. “I believe you are, Draden.” Her hands were shaking as she unwrapped the gold and blue teapot. “Can these be used? I can actually put boiling water in this little teapot?”

“Yes, and the samovar has been converted so it can actually be used as an electric kettle. That’s the newer thing, to take the vintage and rework them. I was fairly certain you’d want to use it.”

“Are these the cups?” She unwrapped a crystal glass that set down into a base, a hand-painted metal holder with golden filigree. It was beautiful.

“Six cups. I saw you run your finger over them in the photograph and knew they were important to you.”

Blinking back tears, she nodded and pulled out the tray. It was as intricately and beautifully painted as the samovar and teapot. For a moment she held it against her bare breasts, wrapping her arms around it and just looking up at him, knowing her heart was in her eyes.

“Thank you.” What could she say? There weren’t words to answer a gift like this. “You’re the most amazing man in the world, Draden, and no matter what happens, no matter how ugly it gets if this virus takes us, being with you and getting to know you is worth anything I might have to go through.”

Draden’s hands were gentle as they cradled her face. He bent down to kiss her. Instantly butterflies took wing in her stomach. He could do that to her every time. Melt her, the moment his lips brushed tenderly over hers. Who knew that her man could be so tender and so possessive at the same time?

He deepened the kiss, and her stomach bottomed out. He tasted like Draden. Hot. Carnal. Dark passion. Pure fire. She barely noticed that he took the tray from her hand and put the box down on the floor. His mouth never stopped moving from hers. Between her legs, she was already damp and needy, her clit pulsing with desire to match the dark hunger building in his eyes. He caught her legs and spun her around on the bed, so she was fully seated there.

“Scoot up against the headrest, sweetheart.” He put a pillow behind her back.

He was up to something, and that sent a quiver of anticipation rippling through her feminine sheath. She did as he asked without hesitation. When he got that dark look of lust, of sheer carnal hunger on his face, there was no resisting him.

He poured champagne into a flute and handed it to her. He poured one for himself and sank down onto the bed beside her, holding the crystal glass up. “To my woman. My everything. Here’s hoping we have our forever, even if we live it in just a few hours.”

They touched flutes, and both sipped at the golden liquid. The bubbles slid down her throat, reminding her of the way she’d held it in her mouth to surround his cock to let the bubbles lap at his sensitive crown. Her mouth watered for more of him and she couldn’t help looking to make certain he was as ready for her as she was for him.

He shifted in the bed and then took her drink from her hand, placed it on the end table and caught her hips. Without saying a word, he yanked her down on the bed so that she was sprawled out. His hands circled her thighs and pulled them apart.

“What are you doing?” She regarded him from under her lashes, watching his face. His expression tightened her stomach muscles in anticipation. There was no doubt now that he had something up his sleeve.

Draden bent his head to her stomach and brushed warm kisses there. Everywhere he touched her skin, her nerve endings jumped and sent licks of electrical pulses straight to her core. “Can you bind your wrists to the headboard with silk?” He whispered the question against her belly button, breathing warm air over her skin. Her nipples tightened. “For me, baby? Would you do that?”

She glanced back at the two wide posts. The idea was a little shocking. It wasn’t like she would be placing undue trust in him. Draden wasn’t the kind of man to ever harm her. She could loosen silk in seconds if he did anything that frightened her, and she couldn’t imagine him doing anything remotely coming close. If the sensual lines of dark lust carved into his face were anything to go by, she had nothing to lose and everything to gain.

She couldn’t look away from those navy-colored eyes as she reached behind her, spreading her arms wide and opening her hands so her palms pointed directly at her target. She felt he already held her captive, just with his compelling stare. He turned her inside out, her body throbbing with need. The stark hunger on his face nearly drove her insane.

Silk wrapped around both posts simultaneously and then she turned her palms to face each other. Silk tightened around her wrists, securing her to the posts. He didn’t take his eyes from hers. Her lungs refused to work, and it felt as if he’d been the one to secure her to their bed, not her. Just the act of lying there, seemingly helpless, added to the pulsing excitement coursing through her body.

His palm rested between her breasts, fingers spread wide. “I love that you give me whatever I ask for, baby.” His hand slid down the length of her, from breast to belly and then lower so that he cupped her mound, his palm sliding over wet lips, pressing so that the breath hissed out of her.

She couldn’t speak. She had no idea what he intended, but the moment the silk was around her wrists, he appeared more relaxed, as if he had all the time in the world, and she supposed he did. She didn’t. Every nerve ending in her body was hypersensitive, waiting for his touch. Waiting for anything he would provide.

Shylah couldn’t take her eyes from his face. Now that he had her body stretched out in front of him like a feast, he leisurely raised his champagne flute to his lips and took a drink. His tongue slid along the rim of the glass suggestively, and her sex clenched hotly. She could see the advantages of such a situation right away. He didn’t have to do much but sit there staring hungrily at her body as if it belonged to him. As if she were his own personal playground. She went up in flames, and he drank champagne.

The silence stretched out until she wanted to scream. She inched her thighs closer together in the hopes of rubbing her legs together to get a little relief. His hand came down immediately to hold her leg in place.

“I see we’re going to need more silk, baby.” Taking his time, he put down his glass and reached for her thighs again, easing them farther apart until her legs were spread wide. “I need you to tie your ankles to the posts for me.” His large palms slid up and down her thighs very gently, barely there, just skimming, driving her crazy.

Her heart kicked into overdrive. She’d never felt so vulnerable in her life. At the same time, she’d never been so excited or stimulated. She licked her lips and did as he asked, loosening the silk at her wrists and turning her hands to accommodate his request, although it was awkward to do so. He watched her as if she were the most fascinating woman in the world and he couldn’t take his eyes from her. He didn’t move to help her turn her hands so she could spin the silk properly, but his eyes narrowed slightly, darkened even more, and the sensual lines in his face carved deeper.

The moment the silk spun around her ankles and pulled tight, she could barely breathe with needing him. She’d never been so happy in her life that she could spin silk. Before, she’s always hated that Whitney had made it possible through his genetic splicing, but now, lying there laid out like a feast for Draden made her feel sexy and wanted, especially when he didn’t bother to hide the stark hunger stamped so clearly in his face. She tightened the silk on her wrists and waited to see what he would do.

Draden’s hand trailed down her body again, starting just between her breasts, ignoring her tight, hard nipples, just missing them so she felt a rush of heat as the edge of his hands passed them. She couldn’t help the involuntary thrust upward as she arched her back in an effort to capture the warmth and friction of his skin. It didn’t work, and that only added to the need building like a force of nature inside her.

His thumb slid over her, flicked her clit and then slipped into her. Her entire body tightened. Every muscle. She tried to grip him. Hold him to her. He was already gone, leisurely lifting the cake to show it to her. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it, sweethea

rt? Blue peonies to match our tea set.”

Setting the cake back on the little table, he didn’t bother cutting it. Instead, he just took a forkful and held it to her mouth. “Tell me if it’s as good as it looks. You have to have a bite or it’s bad luck.” The fork nudged her lips.

She opened her mouth and let him slide the cake inside. The frosting was delicious, but very sweet. The vanilla in the cake offset the sweetness. She couldn’t help licking her lips to get every last bit of the blue peonies. “It’s perfect.” Her voice shocked her. She’s never heard herself sound like that, breathless and needy and so sexy her body reacted to her tone. She sounded like she was enticing him.

He took a bite of cake and nodded. “Very good. Sweet, baby, like you. He took a finger full of the frosting and began painting her mound, and then her lips and clit. Every stroke was designed to drive her out of her mind, and it did. She was panting by the time he smeared it along her inner thighs.

“See how great silk is?” he murmured as he set the cake aside and slowly wedged his shoulders and body between her spread legs. He lifted her bottom and dragged several pillows to place beneath her. His tongue lapped at the streak of sweetness on the inside of her left thigh. She was damp, producing hot liquid, a fiery reaction to his slow, deliberate stimulation. “If we weren’t using it, you wouldn’t behave yourself and keep your legs spread apart for me.” His tongue took the streak of blue peonies on the inside of her right thigh. “Using the silk means you can more easily do what I ask. Isn’t that right, baby?”

He paused when she didn’t respond, lifting his head, although his hands were busy, sliding up and down her thighs, getting closer and closer to where she needed them, but not quite making it.

“Did you want an answer?” Each word was gasped out. Surely, he didn’t expect her to talk to him while he tortured her?

“Yes, I think I do.” He lowered his head, but his eyes were on her face as he flicked at the buttercream on her clit.