Spider Game

by Christine Feehan

  You give me everything. All of you. I can taste you in my mouth. In my lungs. You're wrapped around my heart. Stamped into my bones. He gave her that because she deserved to know. She had to know. Baby, you can't risk yourself. I wouldn't survive the loss. Not intact. You have to give me this.

  Trap. She kissed him again, melting into him. I would give you anything. I want to give you what you're asking, but you aren't being logical.

  Fuck logic. He lifted his head, his hand spanning her throat, his thumb on her jaw, holding her head still. "Fuck logic," he said aloud for emphasis.

  That little tongue of hers came out again, moistening her lips. Lips swollen from his kisses. "I have to be me. I'm a warrior, just like you. I have to be me. You have to love that part of me, Trap, just like I love all of you. Was I terrified for you? Yes. Did I know you had to do it? Yes. Did I believe in you? Yes."

  "It isn't about believing in you." He raked his free hand through his hair, wanting to fist it and tug in sheer frustration. "I can't do this with you in danger."

  "Yes, you can. You have to. Because we're always going to be in danger," she said. "When we have children, they'll be in danger. You have to trust us. Trust me that I know what I'm doing just like you know."

  "They have armor-piercing bullets. You think they aren't going to use them?"

  "They did. That's why the bullet penetrated almost completely through the silk, but Trap, I knew it would. I've been shot before. Did you think they hadn't used them on me when I was in that maze with them? They tried everything. I couldn't let Nonny die. I won't be able to do anything but stand in front of our children either. That's who I am."

  "Fuck." The word exploded out of him.

  "Trap."

  That was her answer. That would always be her answer. He could dictate, and he knew he would, but she would go her own way when she believed she was right. The rest of the time she'd give him everything.

  He repeated the expletive several more times. She kept her eyes on his. He shook his head. "We do this your way, baby, and you're fucking locked to my side. And by that I mean you go where I go, and you do what I say when we're out in public. You have any more cooking lessons I'm there, not cute fucking Malichai. You got that?"

  Her green eyes moved over his face. Soft. Warm. Loving. Turning his heart over. Making it stutter hard in his chest. A slow smile curved her mouth. That beautiful mouth he was putting to work the moment they got home.

  "I got it, Trap."

  "You giving that to me?" he insisted. He wasn't going to give her wiggle room. She was going to be with him for a long time. He wasn't certain when the terror would recede enough to give her breathing room.

  "I'm giving that to you."

  "Tell me what that is."

  "I'm glued to your side and you're with me even when I do more cooking lessons with Nonny. You owe cute Malichai your thanks. He took good care of me."

  "Don't want to hear that, baby." But he could breathe now. Draw air into his lungs and let it out without that raw burn. Without the pain in his throat and the visceral tearing of his gut.

  She leaned into him very heavily. "I want to go home, Trap. I want to be in our bed with our silks cocooning us. I want to feel your heartbeat. I want your cock in my mouth and then in my body. Deep. I want to feel you pounding into me hard and rough so I know you're alive and that you're mine. Can you give me that? I'm giving you what you need. Give me what I need."

  His thumb moved along her jaw. He doubted if there was a man alive who could hear his woman ask for that and turn her down. "We have to be careful of your bruises, Cayenne."

  "I need this more than I need to worry about a few bruises. Take me home, Trap."

  CHAPTER 18

  Trap took his time examining every inch of Cayenne's body. She lay sprawled out beneath him like a gift. A feast. A treasure beyond all price. Her hands stroked through his hair, fingers sifting, rubbing along his scalp as he kissed his way along her collarbone and down to the dark bruises marring the lush curve of her breasts.

  "Baby, we're getting married right away. I don't want an argument about it either. Flame sent the papers. Gator's bringing her with him. They missed Wyatt's wedding because Gator was out of the country. Flame's been anxious to meet her three nieces, so our wedding will be the perfect opportunity."

  She smiled, looking serene. Her hands communicating love right through the strands of his hair. "You were in touch with them, planning our wedding even before you talked to me?"

  He nuzzled the valley between her breasts gently. She drew in her breath sharply. He licked along the dark bruises tenderly, wishing he could heal her with his mouth. With his love. "They were in touch with Wyatt, and he told me earlier. They gave him the information that your background was complete and any reporter looking into you would believe the history they created for you. Wyatt knows I mean business. I'm not waiting to make you mine. Tomorrow I leak the news to the magazines and papers. I want to send a photograph of the two of us together as well."

  "You're daring your uncles to come out in the open."

  Again, her voice was matter-of-fact. Giving him everything. This time he wasn't fooled. She would give him everything because she liked to please him. She wanted him happy. But the moment she felt she needed to do something he wouldn't like, Trap was well aware his woman was going to do it. She made that plain enough. He couldn't have everything his way.

  He licked up the side of her breast. He couldn't suckle the way he wanted to. She was far too battered, so he contented himself with kissing every inch of the deep bruise that spanned both breasts and under them. It wasn't enough. He had to feel for himself that every inch of her was unharmed.

  He took his time on her arms, using the pads of his fingers to run lightly over the undersides while his mouth inspected above. He found a series of small bruises up high on her biceps and knew Nonny had tried to catch her as she flew backward when the bullet struck. His gut clenched all over again. Knots tightened until they were hard and threatening to snap into pieces.

  His teeth nipped her wrist in punishment. His tongue soothed. The small chastisement wasn't enough to rid him of the moment in his mind. He knew it was burned there. That single moment when he was certain she'd been taken from him. He kissed his way back up her arm to her shoulder.

  Trap pressed his mouth against her vulnerable neck. "You don't get shot again. Not." He bit that sweet spot between her shoulder and neck. Hard. She made a single sound of protest, but she didn't move. She didn't try to stop him. He licked at the mark and then suckled, leaving his brand on her. "Ever." He switched sides, his tongue gliding over her nipples, the gentlest of licks. Heart pounding. Blood roaring a protest in his ears. His lips moved against that same spot on her left shoulder. "Again." He whispered it softly and then bit down again. Soothed with his tongue. Suckled until his brand was there.

  He kissed his way to her ribs. "Do you understand me, Cayenne? You don't get shot again. Next time I'm not going to be nice about it."

  "Honey."

  She breathed the endearment, and he thought he might shatter into pieces. She didn't do that. She rarely called him anything but Trap. She hadn't moved her hands from the sheets. She kept giving to him. Showing him how she felt.

  "Say it, Cayenne."

  "I won't get shot again."

  He caught that soft silky skin between his teeth along her left side and nipped. "Say it and fucking mean it, baby. Don't try to placate me."

  "I want to give you anything you need, Trap, but how can I promise that? I'll do my best to never get shot again. You have my word on that."

  His hands moved to her waist, holding her for a moment. Just holding her. His hands were big and he could almost span her waist. He took a breath and let the knots in his gut ease. Just a little.

  "You stay close to me. When we're out of this house, you're right next to me."

  "I want to be next to you. I need to know you're alive and well too, Trap," she assured softly, and then,
being Cayenne gave him more. "I'm not planning on letting you out of my sight for a long while."

  The knots disappeared and he could breathe easy again. The roaring in his head dissipated. He was extraordinarily gentle with her. He kissed each rib, tracing the indentations with his tongue. She squirmed. Her hips lifted, pushing into him suggestively.

  "Not a chance, baby. You were nearly killed. I felt that jolt to your heart. I felt it. The flash of pain. For one moment I thought you were gone. It was the longest, most agonizing moment of my life. Even then I had to wait for a report on how bad it was. So I get this. I get to take my time and inspect every inch of you."

  There was heat in his voice. Command. Demand. He didn't give a flying fuck either whether or not she wanted this different. He'd give her different another time. This was his time. His need. It wasn't about lust or hunger. It was a need so deep, so elemental and primal, he couldn't even explain it to her.

  She stilled, but the hands in his hair clenched tighter. "After you get what you need, Trap, you have to give me the chance to do the same."

  "Don't worry, baby," he assured, nuzzling her belly button. He licked along her soft belly and rimmed the little button before dipping his head lower to trace each hip bone. She shivered in response, but held herself still. "I want your mouth on me. I even need it, but not yet. I'll be careful of your thigh, but the rest of you is in working order, and I'm going to make certain I spend time claiming what's mine."

  She was shot twice. Her heart had suffered a terrible jolt and she had massive bruises, but in spite of all that, it was clear her body had superior healing ability. He could see that, although she was sore, she wasn't really hurting that bad. Already her body had tried to heal itself. That ability shocked him.

  "You like that word." There was a smile in her voice.

  "What word?" He was fascinated with the silk of her skin. He loved the feel of her, the way she seemed to melt into him. The way she went from cool to hot under his touch. He loved making her breath hitch. The little purr in her voice when he touched a sensitive spot.

  "Mine. You use that a lot."

  "You are mine, aren't you?" To add emphasis to his claim, he shoved both hands beneath her beautiful, rounded ass and lifted, fingers sinking into firm muscle there.

  She gasped as his warm breath slid over her damp entrance. "Yes."

  "Your body is mine, right? All for me? That mouth is mine. So fucking beautiful. The way you kiss me, drowning in our kisses, giving me that. It's mine, right? No one but me kisses that mouth. Not. Fucking. Ever."

  He dipped his head and swiped his tongue along the inside of her left thigh, careful of the bruise that had spread from the front to both sides. Just from the time he'd first seen it until this moment, it was already fading in color.

  "It's yours," she agreed.

  "I love the sight of that mouth wrapped around my cock. So beautiful, Cayenne. In my wildest imagination, I couldn't have conjured up the image of you sucking on my cock the way you do. Loving it. Lavishing attention on it. Enjoying it. That's mine, right? That mouth. All mine. All for me."

  He licked up her right thigh, and then pressed his mouth right into the middle of that silky red hourglass he loved so much. He stroked with his tongue. Traced each distinct line pressed there in the middle of the midnight black curls.

  "Yes." Her breath hitched in her throat. At his explicit words, droplets of liquid honey seeped along her entrance.

  He felt the tension coiling in her. Her stomach muscles contracted. Her sweet bottom, even her thighs, but she didn't move. She kept her hips still for him. Giving him that. He lapped at the tiny drops.

  "I love the way you taste. Sometimes I just want to eat you alive. Devour you. Spend hours right here, harvesting every drop you can give me and making more. This is mine too, isn't it baby? All for me."

  "You know it is, Trap," she murmured, her fingers now curled into two tight fists in his hair.

  "All the honey you can give me. That's mine. That sweet, scorching-hot silk that wraps so tight around me and strangles my cock, milking every fucking drop of my seed right out of me. That's mine, right?"

  "All yours," she agreed. Now her voice had gone raw. Low. So sensual he felt it vibrating in his cock.

  He didn't ask her again. He plunged his tongue deep. He needed this, the taste of her pouring down his throat. The affirmation that she was alive and that she was his. He held her hips still while he took his fill, while he drove her up over and over with his mouth and tongue and teeth. He couldn't use his hands because she could no longer control herself, her breath coming in sobbing pleas. Her head tossing on the pillow. She lost the purchase in his hair and transferred her grip to the sheets, fingers digging deep, bunching the material into the palms of her hands.

  He didn't stop, even when she begged him. He lost count of the times he demanded her body go over, but in the end there was no counting where one climax started and the next ended, they simply rolled into one another.

  When he was so hard and thick and aching that he thought his body would explode, he lifted his head and started the crawl back up her body, rubbing his face and her nectar on her belly. When he reached the pillows, he rolled off the bed to stand up. At the same time, he caught her under her arms and pulled her to the edge of the bed. "Scoot your bottom all the way to the edge of the bed, baby."

  She didn't ask questions or protest. Her green eyes were on his face. Trusting. Watching. Learning. He loved that in her. She obeyed instantly, positioning herself there at the edge of the bed.

  "You're going to give me this too? The way I want it?"

  "I'd give you anything, Trap," she said. "My body is yours. I'm yours. We just established that. Tell me what you want."

  His belly tightened. His cock jerked. She sat there in the bed. His bed. Their bed. Waiting for his command. Looking up at him with her green eyes and that mouth of hers. Just waiting for him to tell her what he needed. His woman. Cayenne. His heart pounded. Hurt even. He had this now. Her. This incredible woman belonged to him.

  The silks she'd fashioned hung from the ceiling in long beautiful lacy patterns, cocooning them inside the small area, creating an intimacy like no other. It was their space. The bed was up higher on a platform, allowing him to stand close, his cock right next to her mouth. He'd had this built calculating the exact measurements needed and had his bedroom constructed accordingly.

  The headboard was wide with numerous sturdy intricate dowels that were built for a specific purpose. He liked to play, and his bedroom was where he liked to do it. The bed had also been made to his specifications. He loved the idea of playing, having her at his mercy, but not now. Now was for worship. Now was for affirmation. He was loving her the best way he knew how. He was claiming her. Letting her know she was his and he'd spend the rest of his life finding ways to make her happy.

  His hand came up to circle the wide thickness of his aching cock, a casual gesture he was barely aware of. He still didn't feel lust in the way he normally did. This was so much more, a ritual he needed. A giving he craved. Still as elemental. He saw that same primal need in her eyes. That same terrible necessity that was so brutal, so urgent, neither of them could resist it.

  "Open your thighs wide, baby," he ordered softly.

  Cayenne did so immediately, spreading her legs wide for him, her eyes on his.

  "I want you looking at me. Just like that. I want to see your eyes, Cayenne. I need to see your expression."

  Her small tongue slipped out. Moistened her lips. He groaned at the sight of her gleaming lips. So wet for him. His gaze dropped lower. Between her legs. She was wet there for him as well. He knew she would be. Cayenne lavished him with love. Gave and gave. He wanted more, and he was going to take it.

  He pressed the burning head of his cock against her lips. She surprised him by kissing him. Not once, but several times. Her hands cupped his heavy sac, fingers caressing and stroking. The action lifted the lush curves of her breasts. Her nipples
were tight little buds. It took willpower to resist their allure, but she was heavily bruised there and he didn't want anything else to hurt her--ever. Even with the bruises fading so swiftly, he wasn't about to take any chances of hurting her.

  Her tongue slipped out of her mouth again and she licked over that broad, velvet head, making a little sound of happiness. His gut clenched hard. His cock jerked in anticipation. Her mouth engulfed him, tongue fluttering like butterfly wings along his shaft, the tip reaching that spot right under the crown. Pressing. Laving. She used broad strokes and then took him deep, released and did it again.

  The sight of her loving him that way was almost too much. He was on fire. Fucking fire. Deep inside the ice melted, but the rage was gone, replaced by something altogether different. A molten volcano, buried deep beneath the glacier had begun to make its escape. The emotion erupting wasn't anger or rage. It was just as deep, just as overwhelming, but it was a surge so powerful it shook him. Love. The emotion gripped him. Stunned him with its force.

  She spread lightning through his veins. Her mouth scalded him. Sent pure fire spreading like a wild conflagration through him to come together in his cock. He reached for her head, two fists in her hair, tugging. She didn't obey him. Her mouth tightened.

  "I'm not coming in your mouth, Cayenne," he said. "Fucking let go now."

  She smiled at him around a mouthful of cock. Her eyes smiled at him. Her mouth moved again, one long stroke that took him so deep his heart contracted. Her tongue teased up his shaft and then she let him go.

  "On your hands and knees, facing away from me, right there on the edge of the bed." His voice was hoarse. Who wouldn't be? She loved touching him. Sucking him. Her hands caressed him, left him reluctantly. But she obeyed. She gave him that too. Because she was Cayenne. The woman created entirely for him.

  He stood at the side of his bed, his eyes on her shapely ass. That was his too. All of her. Every damn inch. He couldn't resist rubbing her buttocks, those firm, silky muscles and down her thighs. She was beautiful, on her knees, waiting for him, totally exposed. Totally vulnerable. Trusting him.

  If you hurt at all, you tell me. He waited.

  I'll tell you, honey. I swear. I need you right now.