Spider Game (GhostWalkers 12)

Absolutely. I'm always ready for you, Trap. You look at me and I'm ready. You touch me and I practically have an orgasm. Kissing me can give me a mini-orgasm. She touched her tongue to her bottom lip, tracing over it. Moistening it. Deliberately, her gaze dropped to the bulge in his jeans. I didn't get to wake you up this morning the way I wanted to. You woke me and had your fun.

He'd taken his time with her, his mouth between her legs, holding her down, making her take whatever he wanted to give her--and he wanted to give her a lot. She squirmed remembering how good it had been. How exciting and a little scary, because when he decided to be entirely in control, she was helpless against his strength. She loved every minute of it and he always made it worth it, but still, there was that little thrill of fear that only added to the pleasure he gave her.

Trap cupped her face in his hand. Women don't like to get messed up when they're going out, Cayenne. Most would be embarrassed if their man wanted to take them out in the swamp and fuck them silly and then take them into a friend's house.

She frowned at him and then switched from the more intimate telepathy to regular speech. "I don't understand, Trap. Why wouldn't they want their man to give them that?" Her hand strayed from his chest, lower, smoothing over his abs, to hook in the front of his belt, her fingers barely skimming the top of his growing bulge.

"They wouldn't want his friends to know what they were doing. And especially in a place like the swamp."

Her frown deepened as she struggled to comprehend what he was telling her. "That doesn't make any sense to me, Trap. It isn't even logical. I always want you no matter where we are. What difference does it make, the location, and wouldn't your friends already know what we do? Is it supposed to be a secret? I assume Wyatt and Pepper have sex all the time. Why would we try to hide that from anyone?"

His hand came up under her chin. "Baby, you're making me as hard as a rock."

"That's a good thing, isn't it?" This time her hand slipped more, gliding over the thick length of him right over the stretched denim. "I like you hard as a rock. That means good things for me."

He groaned. "Seriously, Cayenne. You keep that up and I'm going to be taking you into the swamp."

"I just realized that with the differences in our heights, if you're on just a little bit higher ground than me, I could have you in my mouth without even having to get on my knees in all that dirt. Not that I would mind, but if my jeans get all muddy, I have to do laundry, and I've kind of had several disasters. There are a lot of how-to videos online, but they aren't very interesting. I keep going to the cooking channels."

He reached down, picked her up and started toward the swamp, using long strides to take them there. "That's it, woman. You can't talk about putting your mouth on me and expect me to go into a friend's home and not have the hard-on from hell."

She laughed and slipped her arms around his neck, leaning into him so she could touch her tongue just behind his ear. She kissed her way down his neck to his throat and the underside of his jaw.

"Hurry, honey," Cayenne said softly. "I can't wait for you. I've got the taste of you in my mouth now, and my panties are going to be soaked if you don't get them off of me." Seduction really wasn't all that difficult.

"Fuck. Woman, you make me lose control every fucking time." He increased his speed, nearly sprinting into the denser vegetation.

Several feet in, when the brush closed around them, he allowed her feet back on the ground. She was already pulling his belt loose and unzipping his jeans. His hands were on hers, but she got there first. No preamble. No warm-up. No hands. Her mouth slid over his cock like a tight glove, tongue working him, stroking and caressing as she suckled hard, taking him deep and then nearly releasing him to take him back into that hot, moist cavern.

Trap groaned and caught her hair, bunching it in his fist so he could watch her. She always looked as if she was loving him, her mouth stretched tight around his thick girth, her face soft and warm, her eyes a mixture of lust and something else that always took his breath. Rapture. She made him feel as if she couldn't get enough of him.

I can't get enough of you, she admitted softly. I love how you feel in my mouth. Or when you're inside me. Sometimes, Trap, long after, I wake up and still feel you inside me. I love that feeling. I love this feeling. I love to give this to you.

Her hands were there now, cupping his balls, rolling, lavishing attention on him while her eager mouth worked him. Streaks of fire rushed up his legs to center in his groin. The fire spread through his body until every nerve ending shrieked at him. His blood went hot, scorching him, as if lightning had jumped from the sky and entered him. Every sensation in his body raced to converge in his cock. In her mouth.

He tore at her jeans, shoved them down her hips. Shoes, baby, kick them off. And then your jeans. Right fucking now. I don't want to come in your mouth.

I want you to. You didn't this morning.

I want to be inside you. I'm not leaving you needy when we're going to be around other men. Fucking do what I tell you, Cayenne. Kick them off. Right. Fucking. Now.

She did it, because she nearly always gave him what he wanted. But she glared at him even as she tightened her mouth around his cock. I'm going to have my way with you tonight, Trap, she warned. You're going to be the one tied up.

The moment she kicked her jeans off of her, he yanked her up, hands on her bottom. He didn't wait because he couldn't. That's what she did to him. He positioned her over his aching, throbbing cock and then slammed her down hard.

Cayenne cried out, leaned into him and bit his chest without injecting venom. The flash of pain added to the wild, out-of-control, nearly savage thrusts as he hammered into her. She was always tight, squeezing down on him like a vise, her silken muscles massaging and gripping until he wanted to shout with pure pleasure.

You give me everything, he whispered softly into her mind. You are everything. I can't imagine my life without you anymore. Never think I don't want you. Never think we aren't meant for each other.

She lifted her head and looked into his eyes even as she ground down, meeting each upward thrust with a strong downward surge. She rode him just as hard as he rode her. She was just as out of control. But her face was soft, loving. He'd never seen that particular expression on her face or in her eyes as her gaze drifted possessively over his face.

I don't know what love is, Trap, but whatever I'm feeling is strong and lasting. I would do anything for you. Give you anything you wanted. That's how strong it is. Even when I'm afraid, I know I'll trust you to see me through it, because I have to give that to you. I can't do anything else.

She made the confession in his mind, her tight sheath swallowing his thick cock again and again. Hungry. Needy. Urgent. Almost brutal. He saw it on her body, the color coming over her, her eyes going wide, her mouth forming his name, her body clamping down on his.

He loved watching her when he made her come. It was the most beautiful sight in the world to him. That look of shocked surprise on her face, as if it was her first time--every time. He loved the way her body shuddered with delight, the strong spasms surrounding him as the fire rushed through her, reaching all the way up her belly to her breasts.

Only then did he allow the sensations to take him. Only after he witnessed that exquisite beauty. That perfect moment he gave to his woman. He slammed into her four more times, each stroke harder than the last. His balls drew tight, so tight he groaned as he shot his seed deep into her. He swore her channel grew hotter and tighter, greedy for more of him, sucking him dry.

Trap buried his face in her neck, his heart pounding. Full. So fucking full. His woman had done that for him--given him everything--and she did each time he asked it of her. I don't know what love is either, not the love of a man for his woman, Cayenne, but if it exists, it does in me for you. You understand me, baby? Do you hear what I'm saying to you? Because I've never said it to another woman and I never will. Whatever I have in me to give, it's yours.

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; He hoped it was enough. There was a moment of silence. Of stillness. She pushed back to put a little space between them and waited for him to give her his gaze. He shouldn't have worried. He should have known. It was there on her face.

"Yeah, baby," he murmured. "You got it. You understand what I'm saying to you. No matter what I fucking act like, even if it's me being a bastard, you have this from me. You always will."

She leaned in and took his mouth. He loved that about her. She took him in the same way he took her. Claiming him. Using her mouth, her hands, her body, to let him know he belonged to her. Her kiss was sweet. Tender. Loving. Her tongue pushing into his mouth, searching, dancing. He let her have that because she turned him inside out when she did it.

Eventually he took over, like he often did, because he needed more. He needed her to know what she meant to him, and he kissed her like he meant it, because he fucking did. When he lifted his head her mouth trailed kisses to his jaw, his chin and then underneath to his throat.

"I just need you to know, Trap," she said, trailing more kisses along his collarbone, nuzzling his shirt aside so she could get to skin. "If you're a bastard to me, I will retaliate. I don't much like getting walked on."

His cock jerked hard inside her. He loved that about her too. She might look small and delicate, but she was pure steel. She stood up to him and gave as good as she got. What he appreciated most about that was that Cayenne chose her moments. She waited for him to get over being a bastard before she called him on it. When she did that, when she gave him those times, it only made him want to try all the harder to be a better man for her.

"Looking forward to that, baby," he assured her. His hands spanned her waist and he reluctantly lifted her off of him. "I should have carried something to clean you up."

"I did," she said, smirking at him. "You don't go very long before you want sex, Trap, so I thought keeping a few of those little towelette thingies would be a good idea." She picked up her jeans and pulled out a small square. Ripping the packet open with her teeth, she drew out the wet cloth. "Since I like feasting on your cock, I brought a toothbrush too." She flashed a little grin.

Trap took it from her and carefully wiped her thighs and in between her legs. She leaned into him and lapped at his cock.

"Baby, you'll just get me hard again."

"I know. I like you that way." She laughed softly and took out another packet to clean him with. "Seriously, Trap, I don't get why any woman wouldn't want this."

"I do you on a table and you're happy. The floor. The wall. Outside. On the roof. You just give that to me, Cayenne."

"No, silly. You give that to me. You also try to fix all my screwups. The laundry, our breakfast and dinners. You give me anything I want. I'm spoiled."

"I tie you up and take you the way I want to."

"I tie you and do what I want."

She pulled on her jeans, and he reached down to help her zip and button them. He didn't say anything else because he couldn't. She was there with him. Right there in the swamp, surrounded by brush and flowers and moss, and she didn't give a damn that she was wearing socks in the dirt and he'd just fucked her raw. She might not say "I love you" to him, but she showed him with everything she did. She made him feel it.

He pulled up his own jeans as she put on her shoes. Her head was bent and he could see the red hourglass in her cloud of black, shiny hair. The red gleamed through the glossy black silk. He couldn't help himself. He followed the pattern in her hair, caressing the red strands that often disappeared into the thick mass. He rubbed them between his thumb and finger, his heart hammering in his chest.

"You ready, baby?"

"Yes." She stood up, her gaze meeting his. "Thank you, Trap. I was so nervous about this, but you make me feel steady."

She was thanking him for carrying her off into the damn swamp and fucking her. She was killing him. Ripping him up inside. Shattering his heart into a million pieces and taking every piece into her keeping. He caught the back of her head in his palm and took her mouth, pouring himself into her, pouring every emotion he felt into that sweet, sweet mouth. He hadn't even known he could feel so much or so deeply.

She didn't hesitate, but then she never did. She kissed him back, just as deep, just as hot, giving him everything she was. He lifted his head before he turned around, took her home and tore her clothes off her. He could spend the rest of his life in bed with her.

She laughed softly as he threaded his finger through her belt loop and pulled her in close to him. "You couldn't, you know."

"Couldn't what?"

"Stay in bed with me the rest of your life. You'd be bored. I watch you, Trap, and if you don't go into that laboratory, you start to get restless."

That was true. There was no denying it. She was very observant. He loved that about her too, because never once had she objected. Even when he'd worked forty-eight hours straight. She'd brought him food and disappeared. Then she'd come in with bottles of water, and he'd fucked her on the floor. He hadn't said a word to her, just caught her around the waist, ripped off her clothes and slammed inside of her. She was ready for him. Always ready. She'd left without a word between them, gathering up her clothes and leaving him to his work.

She'd returned at each meal, and she brought him coffee often. After the second time he'd ripped her clothes, she came in naked. He couldn't remember how many times he'd fucked her, but it was often. Several times on the floor. Several times against the wall and twice on a table. He'd loved that because he had his mouth between her legs and got a long taste of her.

The memories poured steel into his cock and he found himself grinning. He'd always had a high sex drive, but being around her, thinking about her, touching her, hearing her voice, all of it, just added to his need of her.

"You don't have to do this, Cayenne," he said softly, as they emerged from the swamp. "We can make excuses and head home if you're not ready."

"I want to learn, Trap. Eventually I'll work with you in the laboratory, but I don't want you to hire a cook. You can bring in someone to clean a couple of times a week, but I want to take care of you myself. And when we have children, I want to take care of them. I used to stay in Nonny's room because it felt like a home there. She has something intangible, but it's there, and I want to learn how to have that for our family. She's offered to give me cooking lessons. I'm not going to turn that down."

There was determination in her voice. He ran his hand down the length of her glossy hair. "Thanks, baby. I haven't had anyone caring for me since I lost my aunt."

"I'm going to be good at it, you'll see."

She was starting with nothing. No patterns, no skills, no prior experience or knowledge to draw on, but he could see she was absolutely determined. He could also see that soft warmth in her eyes when she looked at him.

"I know you will, Cayenne," he said as he walked with her up the stairs.

Nonny flung open the door, her faded eyes moving over the two of them. She smiled at Trap. "Missed you around here, boy. 'Bout time you brought your woman to meet me."

Trap drew Cayenne in front of him, one arm around her, locked right under her breasts. "Nonny, this is my Cayenne. Baby, this is Wyatt's grandmother. All of us call her Nonny."

Cayenne smiled at the woman. Nonny was ageless. Timeless. Her hair was gray and she wore it in a braid wrapped around the back of her head in a bun. She had a few wrinkles, but not many. Her smile was quick and real as she stepped back to allow them entrance.

"Wyatt, Ezekiel and Mordichai are goin' to take the girls out for a boat ride through the swamp. Wyatt's been talkin' to them about survival. He wants them to know all the dangers and also to give them a sense of direction just in case. Ginger likes to wander off, and we have to watch that one like a hawk because the other girls follow her lead."

"They're a handful," Trap agreed, as if he had great knowledge of little girls. "We're trying to have a baby, Nonny, so ours will grow up with Wyatt's."

Nonny spun around a

nd fixed him with a glare. Both hands went to her hips, fists closed tight. "Trap Dawkins. You don' get a woman pregnant without marryin' her first. You do that, and you'll understand the meanin' of a shotgun weddin'." She turned her complete attention on Cayenne. "Girl, you and me are goin' to have a talk."

Cayenne couldn't possibly take offense. She found herself smiling and nodding. Trap's hands closed over her shoulders.

"We're dealing with the paperwork, Nonny. Jaimie and Flame are making certain that Cayenne has a complete history and everything is in order. Once they give us the go-ahead, we'll get married. I give you my word."

Nonny studied his face for a long moment and then she grunted and nodded, as if in approval. Cayenne let out her breath. She's magnificent.

Yeah, she is.

Wyatt's so lucky.

We all are. She treats us all like her family, and she means it.

Cayenne studied the older woman as she followed her into what was the sitting room. That, she was certain, was Nonny's secret--she genuinely cared about the people around her. She welcomed them, took them at face value, and treated them as if they belonged to her. Cayenne wanted that for her own family.

Trap squeezed her hand as she sank into the chair Nonny gestured toward. "You'll be okay, baby? I'm going to go with Wyatt if you're comfortable with that. I need to be around his girls. I never thought I'd say this, but I miss them."

"I'll take good care of her," Nonny promised.

Trap leaned down and brushed a kiss on top of Cayenne's head. "Thanks, Nonny." He straightened, running his knuckles gently along Cayenne's face. "You two have fun."

"We will," Cayenne said, suddenly reluctant to let him out of her sight. She wasn't good at small talk. At talk at all. She was used to being with Trap, and maybe Wyatt in small doses, but she was going to be alone in a house with two women she didn't really know at all.

She pressed a hand to her churning stomach. She honestly hadn't considered what she'd feel like without Trap close by. Still, she kept her mouth shut, refusing to be such a coward that she would call him back when it had been her suggestion that he find an excuse to leave her alone with them. She watched him leave. Looked out the window to see him join Wyatt and the other two men in the front. Trap reached down, picked up a little toddler and settled her on his hip. The sight turned her heart over.