Spider Game

by Christine Feehan

  "If that's supposed to be a deterrent, or a punishment, I have to tell you, Trap, it doesn't sound like one." She said it with a small smile on her face, once again leaving him wondering if she intended to bite him.

  Yeah. Okay. That made him hotter. That thrill of the unknown. That bite of trepidation. Being at her mercy. He squeezed his fist hard around his cock, needing to feel a bite of his own. He was going to explode without her mouth if she didn't hurry.

  She shook her head, and her palms slid tentatively up his thigh as she settled back on her ankles. Her breasts swayed invitingly. She moved her hands over his muscles slowly. Too slowly. His cock jumped in his fist and spilled more pearly drops. She leaned closer to him, lowering her head until he felt her breath.

  "All right, you're in control, but at least open your thighs so I can see how wet you are for me. I need to know you're loving what you're doing."

  She stayed still for a minute and then slowly complied, sitting back on her ankles, allowing her knees to fall apart so he could see the tangle of curls at the junction between her legs, the little dewdrops on the red hourglass.

  "Beautiful," he whispered.

  Without warning, more silk spun around his wrist and pulled his hand sideways, away from his cock, pinning his arm tighter to the mattress. He swore as her fist replaced his. Her hand was much smaller and her palm barely curled around him.

  She smiled at him. "Don't you like this?"

  Her hands slid up his thighs, moved around to the inside, kneading and stroking. Her mouth followed, small kisses. Licks. He felt her tongue sliding along his inner thigh, and his balls went tight. Hard as twin rocks. She licked her way up to his scrotum. The breath left his throat and his hips moved restlessly. Very gently she cupped his balls, swept her palm over them lightly and then rolled them boldly. Her mouth moved over them, her tongue licking and stroking, making little circles that went straight to his brain--short-circuiting what was left of his ability to think clearly. Sensations shot straight up his spine. He wasn't paralyzed under all that silk, and he couldn't stop the shifting of his legs or the lifting of his hips. Another groan escaped, husky and needy.

  Her smile went wider. "Yeah, Trap. I think you like this a lot."

  She studied his face, the desire there carved deep for her to see. The lust gathering in his eyes, dark with sensuality, lashes heavy and hooded. There was no hiding it from her, and he didn't try. He bucked his hips at her. Demanding. He kept his gaze on her face. She was so beautiful, and he wanted to witness that moment when her lips surrounded his cock and she drew him into her mouth.

  The thought was so sensual more droplets leaked, this time onto his flat, very hard belly. Her breath caught in her throat. Her green eyes instantly were riveted to his cock. She wrapped her fingers around his shaft one by one again, testing, pressing harder.

  "I had no idea a man could be this big. How do you fit inside me?"

  "I'll fit," he assured her with confidence. She was killing him, but he was going to die happy so he just watched her. She wanted to explore, hell yeah, he was up for that, at least until he couldn't take it anymore. He allowed his muscles to expand and contract as if testing the bonds holding him again. "You were made for me. You're already so slick and ready. Let me show you how good it can be. What I gave you before is nothing compared to what you'll feel."

  She ignored his enticement. "I need you to show me what to do with my mouth. Show me again in your head," she said. It was an order. One he might make. Their roles were definitely reversed.

  "I control what goes on in bed," he said.

  "Not this time." She gave him a little smirk, but her gaze remained on his cock. Her breath stayed there, warm and enticing, teasing him with anticipation.

  She seemed to be in power, but he could take some of that back by influencing what she did through the images in his head. He showed her what he needed. What his body was on fire for.

  Cayenne leaned closer. The tip of her tongue made a little experimental foray over the velvety crest, catching the droplets. Tasting him. Her tongue slid around her lips as if savoring his flavor and then dipped down to follow the wet path on his belly to catch every drop.

  So that's what you taste like. Mmm. Good. I like it. I wanted to like this because I could see how much you needed your woman to like doing this to you. I need to know I will be able to give you whatever is important to you.

  The most important thing of all to me, babe, is that you want to give me this kind of pleasure and that you enjoy doing it. That will get me off every time.

  She tasted again, savoring this time, real enjoyment in her eyes. He fucking loved that--that pleasing him meant something to her.

  I do want to, Trap. I just don't know how. There was demand in her voice. In her mind. She wanted instructions.

  Use your mouth, baby. Tight. Like a fist. Suck hard and keep your tongue moving. You want the shaft nice and wet. Remember what I was doing with my fist? You want to do that with your mouth. Use your other hand to stroke and caress that soft area just between my anus and balls. Cup my balls, roll them gently. You have lots to play with. Take your time, and don't do anything you don't enjoy.

  She didn't hesitate, following the image in his mind and his intimate instructions. She wrapped her lips around him and swallowed him down. He'd never seen anything more beautiful. Sensations tore through him and he shared them with her. Letting her feel what she was doing to him. Her fingers moved against him and he lifted his hips, driving deeper into her mouth.

  Heaven. Paradise. She sucked hard, her tongue sliding under the flared head to find that sweet spot in his mind. Her free hand continued to stimulate and caress until he was on fire. Her tongue felt like a flame stroking his shaft and then licking up and down until her saliva coated his cock and she had about half of him in her mouth.

  "Look at me. I want to see your eyes." He poured command into his voice, trying in vain to keep his gaze on the junction between her legs. With her kneeling between his legs, her thighs spread wide, he wanted to see if fresh liquid gathered at his hard authority.

  Are you wet for me? Burning for me?

  Yes. She answered without hesitation.

  Even when I talk to you like that? When I tell you what to do? He had to know. He was demanding in bed.

  When you use that voice, the burn gets hotter.

  Satisfaction moved through him. Relief. There was no doubt in his mind that she would suit his every need. At once her lashes lifted and he could see that wide expanse of green. Definitely enjoying herself. That was what he needed to see. She liked giving him pleasure, and she liked learning. She even liked him making demands.

  I love how you taste. Is it always like this?

  "Just with me," he growled. "Only me. That's it, baby. Suck harder. A little deeper. Son of a bitch, Cayenne, that's fucking beautiful. Breathe through your nose, and you'll have to control your gag reflex. Breathe, honey."

  His own breath came in a ragged gasp and in another minute he would have to resort to telepathy because there was no way he was going to be able to talk. Not with her mouth sucking him hard and then switching abruptly to gentle. Not with her tongue wrapping itself around him, doing little circles and then suddenly fluttering like butterfly wings.

  "Baby, I'm getting close. Most women don't want to finish it in their mouths."

  What do you like?

  She sucked him deeper and he felt the burst of heat rocketing through his body. His hips bucked, pushing even deeper. Her tongue pressed tight against the sweet spot just beneath the crest of his cock and that sent flames rushing through his veins.

  I want your mouth sucking me dry. There was no way to talk. No way to do anything but let her mouth take him.

  He drove into her helplessly, and she didn't pull away from him or fight. In return, he didn't break the silken bonds. He gave her this moment because she was determined to give him paradise.

  The explosion was unlike anything he'd ever had in his life. He felt
the fire moving up his legs, along the path her fingers had taken. Everything in him, every sensitive nerve ending fired and sped toward his groin. Her mouth was hot and moist and she suckled hard, greedy, kept him deep, pulling every drop out of him, milking him with her mouth. He felt the tight squeeze of her throat and mouth as his cock swelled and pumped. Once. Twice.

  He shouted hoarsely, the cry torn from him as his seed rocketed out of him, driving down her throat while he was thrown into a place he'd never been. She'd taken him there. He floated for long, blissful moments. Her mouth stayed on him, surrounding him with scalding heat. Gentle. Careful. Her tongue curled around him as if guarding him while he stayed in that place of absolute beauty in his mind. A gift he'd never expected from anyone, let alone a woman. Absolute beauty. Absolute peace. She'd taken him there.

  He'd never felt truly sated in his life. He could take a woman all night and still be semihard. In his mind the act had never been enough to satisfy him. It relieved the terrible ache, but it didn't satisfy. Until now. Until Cayenne, and he couldn't even touch her hair falling around his hips and thighs with his fingertips.

  You have no way of knowing just what you've given me. He whispered the admission in his mind. Intimate. It was all he could give her, and he knew it made him vulnerable. Maybe too vulnerable. She had to see what her gift meant to him, she'd shared his mind. Shared that amazing, beautiful experience.

  Cayenne sat up slowly, licked her lips, her gaze somewhat dazed. Her lips swollen. She looked almost as sated as he felt. "The silk will loosen in a few minutes, Trap. Don't come down to my lair. I have to think about things."

  "Baby." His voice was hoarse. It broke on a groan. "I need to hold you. To touch you. You just gave me something beautiful. I'm not so selfish that I don't want to give you something back."

  "You already did."

  "More, I want to give you more. At least take off the wraps and let me hold you."

  She shook her head slowly and backed away from him. "I can't. Not yet."

  He could see she was afraid. Afraid that she'd gotten in over her head. The gift she'd given him had meant something to her as well. It had tied them closer together. He took a breath, let it out and nodded.

  He forced air through his lungs, afraid he'd never have enough again to breathe right. "Get food and something to drink out of the kitchen. Money's there. Tomorrow we'll put your prints into the security system. I wrote the code for you. More than anything right now, Cayenne, I want to hold you. I want you in my bed sleeping next to me. I've never slept in the same bed with a woman. I've fucked them, but I didn't trust any more than you do. I want that for us. That intimacy. You. In my bed."

  "I want that too, Trap, but I really have to think about this. You have the house and the money and all the knowledge. I've got nothing at all to give to you. I don't know how to walk into a store and buy groceries for us, let alone how to cook them. I need to know I'm bringing you something as well. Something valuable."

  "We talked about this. I want it all with you, Cayenne. A home. A wife. Children. I want a partner in the lab. You calculated the amount of peanut shells on the floor of the bar . . ."

  "I was bored out of my mind," she said. "Not every man going into a bar is a rat. I wasn't going to rob just anyone. I had to do something. Not only was I bored, but I was terrified--and hungry. Some days I only had those peanuts to eat. Most of the time, I gave the money to the families I took clothes from."

  He detested that. "Those days are over. Just the fact that you could calculate the number of husks means intellectually we're a good fit. I need that. I can't be bored by my partner. You like knowledge."

  "It's more than liking," she confessed in a rush. "I have to keep my mind occupied or I go a little crazy. I have to keep learning."

  He smiled at her, wanting to touch her. Needing it. "Come here, baby. Free my hands so I can at least touch you. And before you leave this room, I need you to kiss me again. I promise you, you're safe. I won't take anything from you but a kiss."

  "You're very tempting right now and I'm . . ." She broke off.

  Clearly the things she'd done to him had aroused her again, and this time, there'd been no relief. None. Her nipples were hard little points, and between her legs he could see the evidence of her desire. She still had a flush to her skin and her eyes were a little dazed. Her breath came in rapid little pants.

  "Give me my hands or let me use my mouth again if you don't want my cock right now, Cayenne. You know I can take care of you. Taking me like that made you needy all over again. Let me help you with that." He was thrilled that the act of giving him so much pleasure had made her burn for him.

  She stepped away from the bed. Not stepped. There was movement but no noise. She walked in absolute silence. Like a spider. He couldn't help but be amazed as she glanced upward toward the ceiling, one hand going up. Immediately there was a silken cord hanging and she was already making her way upward. When she stirred, her movements were very spider-like, and yet at the same time, she was a beautiful, sensuous woman.

  Trap stayed very still, watching her as she scurried to the corner across the ceiling to the vent. She turned her head, looking over her shoulder, long dark hair falling in clouds around her. "You promised me that you wouldn't come downstairs, Trap. I'm holding you to that promise. I have to think about this. I hope I can get where you want me to be, but I'm not there yet. You have to let me do this my way."

  Then she was gone.

  CHAPTER 9

  Trap woke up to the sound of a fire alarm going off and the scent of burned bacon permeating his room. He leapt out of bed and ran toward the sound. The master suite was a distance from the kitchen and he cursed living in such a huge space as he sprinted, naked and barefoot, through the old factory and then skidded to a halt just inside the door.

  Cayenne stood beneath the fire alarm, glaring at it, hands on her hips, her hair and clothes covered in flour, or what could possibly be egg and batter. White clouds of powder floated in the air and lay strewn across the floor in sweeping patterns like sand.

  Trap pressed his lips together to keep from laughing, stalked through the gray-white room, and stepped behind her, close, his body touching hers, to reach up and turn off the blaring alarm. She froze. He was significantly taller than she was, and with his arms around her, she was mostly caged in. He completed the circle, his arms becoming steel bonds as he leaned his chin down and nuzzled her neck.

  "Good morning, Cayenne. I see you're busy." There was no possible way to keep the humor out of his voice.

  She turned in his arms to face him because he didn't give her much choice, annoyance on her flour-smeared face. "Don't you dare laugh."

  He took her mouth, flour and all. That beautiful, adorable mouth, with her full red lips that had stretched around his cock and brought him a piece of heaven only the night before. She kissed like an angel and used her mouth like a sinful temptress. The moment he kissed her, she melted into him. Flour and all. Her arms slid around his neck, fingers curling into his hair. That felt good. It felt better than the time he became one of the youngest doctors to win the Nobel Prize in Medicine for his leading research in adaptive immunity in subset B&T memory cells. He didn't give a damn about prizes, only the research, but he did give a damn about the woman in his arms.

  Cayenne had no last name. She had no birth certificate. She had no identity. But she was going to be his wife. She would have an identity to the rest of the world, because it was going to be very public when he took a wife. One of the world's most eligible bachelors getting married wasn't going to fly without notice. He wasn't going to scare the crap out of her by telling her that just yet, but he was never giving up that mouth. She could kiss and she didn't have a clue yet how. Still, it was the best kiss, hands down, he'd ever had.

  He lifted his head slowly and brushed his hand down the red hourglass in her hair. "Fuck, baby, you kiss like an angel."

  The way she stared up at him, as if he was the only man in the w
orld, as if he could walk on water, took his breath. He touched his forehead to hers, in an effort to keep it together. She didn't need him attacking her, laying her out like a feast on the kitchen table just the way he fantasized the moment he saw the damn thing.

  "What are you doing?"

  Her lashes fluttered. She had a light dusting of white powder on the tips. That made him want to kiss her all over again.

  "I was cooking you breakfast." Cayenne sounded annoyed and frustrated all rolled into one. "They have cooking videos on the Internet and I was following the steps, but somehow things didn't go right. They make it look so easy, Trap. I wanted to make this for you but . . ."

  She turned in his arms and surveyed the chaos along the counter, the still smoking mess that looked to him like it could have been a pancake at one time, and sighed.

  "Clearly I did something wrong."

  "Well, babe, first thing to know, when you cook you need to wear an apron. Just that. Nothing else. I've got one hanging on the little hook in the pantry here."

  Keeping a straight, serious expression, he walked across the flour-covered floor, leaving footprints behind him. He held up the little black and white apron he'd spotted in one of the online toy stores he'd been looking in right before he'd found her. The apron was lacy and short, very short, with ties in the back and nothing else. The front would cover her breasts, but just barely, and had open French lace so her nipples would peek out at him as she worked.

  Cayenne studied the little apron and then her green gaze went to his face. "That's what I'm supposed to wear when I cook for you?"

  "Yes." He nodded his head. "Exactly."

  "That's the secret to cooking you something great?"

  He nodded again and crossed back to her, thrusting the apron into her hands. "I'll start the cleanup, and you go put that on. We can cook together and see if that helps."

  "Trap." She shook her head, half smiling, not really believing him but a little uncertain if he was teasing her or telling the truth. "I've never been in a kitchen in my life. Especially when someone was cooking. The food I ate was always the same, some kind of rations, not anything like they have on the Internet. The first time I ate a burger at the Huracan Club, I threw up. The same with the fries. I don't know anything about this, and I'm trying to learn so I can give you that home you want. I have to rely on you to tell me the truth. None of those people cooking on the videos were wearing a little apron."