Night Game

by Christine Feehan

  Gator stared down at Flame in awe. "Mon Deiu, cher. Just kill me now and I'll go happy." He collapsed on top of her, sliding the top half of his body to one side to avoid her injured arm. "You're amazing."

  "I was, wasn't I?" Flame said, smirking with satisfaction. "And don't let me forget to mention to your grandmother that mesh is not the least bit comfortable."

  He kissed her neck. "What about the leather?"

  "It itches when it's sweaty."

  "I don' sleep in clothes anyway. You don' need to either." Gator propped himself up on one elbow and proceeded to rip the mesh away from the leather. It came away in his hand after a little wiggling on her part to get it out from under her, leaving her rib cage wrapped in leather.

  "Now I look like a sausage," she announced and burst out laughing.

  He rubbed his face against her breasts, his shadowy jaw rough on her nipples. "I wouldn't say that. I think you look sexy."

  She couldn't stop laughing, even though the movement sent aftershocks rippling through her body. "You're so crazy. Unzip it."

  "I don' know, cher." His accent thickened. Her body reluctantly released his from her snug sheath and he sighed softly. "I think you look good in leather." His tongue flicked her nipples and he nuzzled his face into the valley between her breasts.

  Still laughing, Flame reached for the knife on the end table beside the bed at exactly the same moment he reached for the can of whipped cream. "You're such a freak, Raoul. Just what do you think you're doing with that?"

  "Expanding my horizons." He traced the flames of her tattoo as he shook the can. "What 'ya going to do with that knife?" His tone lowered, was husky, frankly sensual.

  She slid the tip of the razor-sharp blade along the edge of the leather and cut herself free of the offending material. "Nothing thrilling, believe me." Laughter was beginning to overtake her again. She couldn't help it. He looked so eager. "Put your little can of whipped cream down, I'm going to sleep. You wore me out."

  He outlined her tattoo with the whipped cream, leaned down and licked it off. "Good brand."

  "Well that's all right then."

  "Stop squirming. I'm drawing a masterpiece. This is art." He used the whipped cream to draw a happy face on her lower belly. This time when he licked it off she closed her eyes and he could feel the shudder of pleasure running through her. "I got me lots of toys to play with, Flame. You just go ahead and go on to sleep and when I think I need to wake you up, I'll find a way to do it that you'll like."

  "I can't go to sleep with you spraying whipped cream all over me."

  This time he outlined a bikini top on her breasts and bent to lick it off. His tongue rasped over her skin and around her nipple. There was a small tug of his teeth. Her womb contracted and clenched hard in response. Flame tangled her fingers in his hair and closed her eyes, giving herself up to the sensations of his tongue and teeth, the moist heat of his mouth and his exploring hands. "You're not planning on really using those ridiculous toys, are you?"

  "Hell yeah, we're using them."

  She opened one eye. "I call the handcuffs and paddle."

  "Not a chance, femme sexy, I'm stronger than you." His hand caressed her bottom. "I've got me plans."

  "You're such a goof." For the first time in her life, she felt truly happy. And she hoped it would be a long, long night. "Just remember who has the knife."

  CHAPTER 15

  Flame woke with her heart thundering in her ears. Nightmares had invaded her sensual dreams and left her gasping. She lay still, looking up at the rough ceiling knowing dawn was just an hour or so away. She had never allowed herself to be so close to anyone. She'd formed friendships, let herself enjoy people, but she never took a relationship far enough that she needed anyone. She never risked wanting any thing so much that she couldn't leave it behind, so it didn't make sense to her that wanting to be with one person would ever be important enough to risk her freedom.

  She rubbed her broken arm absently as she listened to the sound of Raoul breathing. His arm was around her body possessively, his hand under her breast. She could feel the rub of his knuckles and even that small contact sent excitement skittering through her body. He had power over her whether he knew it or not. Flame tried to be ruthless in her dealings with her own feelings. She didn't want to let go of Raoul. She tried to be analytical and logical.

  What real future together was there for them? She could seek help from a conventional doctor. It might buy her time, but it wouldn't cure the cancer. Only Whitney could do that. And going to a doctor would reveal her genetic enhancement and everything else Whitney had done. It would put her square in the limelight and the government would swoop in and retrieve her. She was worth too much money and frankly, they would think it would be too dangerous to allow her to run around loose.

  She eased her way out from under Raoul, sliding to the edge of the bed. The moment she sat up, she was aware of her body, deliciously sore, strangely stimulating as if deep inside something moved against her most sensitive parts. Raoul had been so eager to get at her body, to keep nothing between them, his hands roaming over her even after his sexual appetite was temporarily sated. And he never seemed to be sated for very long, waking her over and over in the night.

  As if reading her thoughts, his arm snaked around her waist. "It isn't light yet."

  She closed her eyes at the sound of his voice, savoring his Cajun accent and the velvet smoothness of his tone. "Almost."

  "We didn't get to finish playin' with all the toys, cher," he cajoled, pressing a kiss against the scar in the midst of the flames arching over her hip. "I was thinking we could spend a little time with the handcuffs."

  She turned her head to regard him with what she hoped was a stern look. Unfortunately, he always made her want to laugh. He looked sinfully sexy, a little bit wicked, yet still managed a boyish anticipation. "Not in your wildest dreams."

  "Now, sugah. The entire concept behind handcuffs is a control issue. I like control. And the thought of you kneeling in front of me, hands behind your back, helpless so I can do whatever I want to your body makes me as hard as hell."

  She did burst out laughing, "You really are a freakin' pervert, Raoul, and honestly, just about everything makes you hard as hell."

  "You don' know the half of it, cher." He reached casually for the small remote on the nightstand and turned the switch.

  Her breath caught in her throat and she spun around, wide-eyed as the small eggs deep inside her body began to vibrate. "What did you do?"

  "You were sleeping so sound, exhausted from all the playin' we did and I didn't want to wake you up. It was so damn sexy putting those eggs inside of you. Do they feel good?" He licked the scar, nibbled his way up her rib cage. "Tell me what it feels like." He laid back again, his dark eyes drifting moodily over her face, watching her expression. "Even in your sleep you get damp and taste like honey. I wanted to do so many things last night, but didn't want to scare you off."

  Each movement of her body sent the eggs bouncing around until they were vibrating over her most sensitive spot, triggering a flood of liquid heat. Her womb and her stomach muscles contracted, an unexpected orgasm beginning to wash over her so that she gasped.

  "Oh, yeah, they feel good," he whispered and flicked his tongue over her nipple. "Lean down here." His hand circled the thick length of his erection, holding it up for her. "Every time I see you, or smell you, or even hear your voice, this is what you do to me. Put your hands on me, your mouth. I want to have your mouth on me."

  "I don't know how."

  "Don' worry, cher, I'm a hell of a good teacher." Using the remote, he changed the setting, so that the eggs were subtly vibrating against the walls of her tight channel. His fists curled in her hair and guided her head down to him. He closed his eyes as her tongue flicked the pearled drops from him. "Son of a bitch, Flame. I might not be able to survive the lesson."

  Flame looked up at his face, and the breath rushed from her lungs. She had such power over
him. It was amazing to her and all he wanted was what she'd been curious about anyway. He knew her body intimately, she wanted to know his just as intimately.

  He used his fists in her hair to guide her movements, as she slowly licked, kissed, and nibbled, building up her courage before taking him deep into the heat of her mouth. He groaned, unable to stop the sound from escaping. Flame had good instincts and it didn't take her long to figure out just from his reactions what he liked and what he loved.

  Gator threw his head back, a low, strangled moan emerging from his throat. Flame never did anything in half measures and she was a fast learner. She started out so sweet and tentative. She was a mixture of innocent and siren and already she was taking him deep, suckling strongly, using her tongue to torment and tease. He had planned just a very short little lesson, but her hand caressed and squeezed his balls, circled his shaft and did the same all the while her mouth worked hot magic on him. Twice he felt the squeeze of her throat as she did a slow, heart-stopping slide. He could feel his balls drawing tighter and tighter until he was certain he would explode.

  He did the only thing he could think to do to save coming too soon. He wanted to be in her body, giving her so much pleasure she wouldn't think of ever leaving him. He had time for everything else. Years, he hoped. Years of her mouth and body and her soft, sexy laughter and her sass. He hit the switch on the remote controlling the eggs so that they buzzed to vivid life, moving and fluttering and pressing against sensitive nerve endings.

  Flame rocked back on her heels, crying out as her muscles spasmed and contracted. A tremor went through her. "Raoul."

  He caught her waist and gently tugged until she was bent over the side of the bed. "Watch your arm, cher. I want you comfortable." He stood behind her, his hand caressing her bottom. "I love your ass. I fantasize about it all the time."

  "Stop talking and do something." She nearly sobbed the order, unable to stand still, her body rippling with orgasm after orgasm.

  He switched off the remote and reached down to tug the string. She gasped as one by one the eggs slid over her heightened nerve endings causing a second shudder of pleasure. "You're so wet, Flame, so hot." He pressed against her, catching her hips and drawing her back while he slammed forward. "So damn tight."

  The moment he plunged inside her, driving through her tight folds, so hard and thick, filling her, rubbing against her overstimulated nerve endings she couldn't stop from trying to take control of the pace. She was frantic, pounding back against him, riding him hard while her body seemed to wind tighter and tighter. She felt it everywhere, her legs, her breasts, but especially between her legs, the fierce pleasure spiraling out of control. Wave after wave shook her.

  Suddenly he went still, his hands on her bottom, massaging, kneading, his body deep inside her while she pushed back against him desperate for relief.

  "What are you doing?"

  "I just can't help myself, cher. I'm a weak man and the temptation is too much for me."

  She could feel him swelling inside her, his excitement obvious. He felt too big again, hitting her womb, too thick, stretching her tight channel. Flame glanced back at him over her shoulder. Her eyes widened when she saw him pick up the leopard-skin paddle. "If you want to live, you won't dare."

  "Then I'm going to die in paradise." He smacked her bare bottom with the paddle.

  Flame gritted her teeth. "You do that again and I'll break that thing over your head."

  The paddle went flying. "I didn't much like it, either. 'Course,"--his hand massaged her bottom again--"if I were to give you a spankin' I'd want to do it with my hand so I could feel you--and you could feel me. That would be sensual, not impersonal. That's what was wrong."

  "Raoul!" Flame wailed his name, riding back against him, moving her hips to try to force his compliance, grinding her body against his with small sobs of need. She was going to have to hurt him if he didn't get on with it.

  His hand came down on her bare butt bringing a flare of unexpected heat and then a caress as his palm rubbed over the spot. Her tight muscles contracted around him and a fresh flood of liquid bathed him. Before she could form a protest, he thrust, driving mercilessly through her hot sheath hard and deep, over and over.

  Flame couldn't breathe, couldn't think. Only feel. A sob of pleasure escaped as her climax tore through her body with such force she would have fallen if Raoul hadn't been holding tightly to her hips. Her muscles clamped down on him, gripping hard, squeezing so hot and tight she heard his breath explode from his lungs.

  He swore in Cajun, a long growling, guttural curse while his body swelled thicker and thicker until he was rising on his toes and gritting his teeth, shuddering with pleasure as his body jerked with his own violent, explosive release.

  Flame lay facedown over the side of the bed, Raoul's thick erection buried deep inside her, his body blanketing hers, while they both gasped, searching to draw air into burning lungs and calm the wild storm crashing over their bodies. Spasm after spasm tightened ruthlessly on him, rocking them both, even as they lay quiet. She could feel her body pulsing around his, greedy for more, yet she was exhausted.

  Dawn had crept into the room, the early-morning light spilling over them, bringing with it some semblance of sanity. She felt the burn of tears. She wanted to spend her life here, in this cabin, far away from the insanity of who and what she was, but it was impossible. How could she stand knowing what it would have been like to stay with him? To have him? To have a family?

  Raoul would bring her pleasure beyond measure. And he would always make her laugh and feel safe and protected.

  "Are you crying?" His hands stroked her hair. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"

  She shook her head. How could she tell him the truth? Of course it hurt. He had shown her paradise and she was going to have to walk away. His hands ran down the length of her body, lingered on the sides of her breasts. Even that small touch sent another small aftershock rippling through her. His mouth teased the nape of her neck, his hands massaging her bottom, fingers dipping into her heat and rubbing to send another much stronger aftershock through her.

  "I love that," he whispered against her spine. "I love how hot and wet you are for me and how when I touch you, and I'm deep inside you, all your muscles clamp down on me as if you're holding me inside you and don't want to let me go."

  She turned her face to the side, resting it on the quilt. She looked exhausted, sated, drowsy, and sexy all together. The sight of her made his throat ache and his eyes burn. He had felt empty for so long, needing something and not even knowing it. Flame was a miracle, a once in a lifetime gift, and he wasn't going to be fool enough to let her slip through his fingers.

  His body relaxed slowly, allowing him plenty of time to enjoy the ripples of pleasure coursing through her. He helped her sit on the edge of the bed, a slow grin stealing over his face as he surveyed the room. It smelled of sex and candles and he inhaled to remember the heady aroma forever.

  She looked fragile when he knew she wasn't. Everything male in him rose up to want to protect her, which was funny, because when she got him riled, everything in him wanted to dominate her. She brought out extreme emotions in him, made him feel alive, made him want to be alive.

  He drew a finger across her breast and leaned close to take the tip into his mouth, biting down gently and tugging, before laving with his tongue. He felt a shiver run through her. Male satisfaction was instant.

  "We can't stay here all day," she said.

  He felt her withdrawal, a small feminine retreat, her body moving inches from his, but definitely telling him something. He caught her chin in his hand. "Sure we can. You just got out of the hospital and you're entitled to a day or two of resting. Even with painkillers I know that arm has to hurt."

  A faint smile curved her mouth, but didn't reach her eyes. And she avoided looking at him. "Is this what you call resting?"

  Deliberately, to prove to himself he could, he bent his mouth to her breast again, this time suckling
strongly, his hand on her stomach to feel the contractions sweeping through her at his touch. He loved the power of it, the way she shuddered with instant need when he'd just had her. It took him a moment or two to realize what that meant. She was still trying to withdraw and he was asserting dominance. Frustrated, he sat back, regarding her averted face while fear and anger began a deadly mix. "What is it, Flame?"

  She stared out the window, refusing to meet his gaze. "This doesn't change anything you know."

  "What doesn't change anything?" Gator couldn't keep the challenge out of his voice. She damn well wasn't going to sleep with him and dismiss him.

  Flame finally turned her head and looked at him. "You know exactly what I mean. We . . ."

  "Don't you dare use the F word. I made love to you all last night and this morning and you knew that was exactly what I was doing. Don't you even think about calling it anything else."

  Her eyebrow shot up. "The F word? You weren't so afraid of using the word the other day or last night for that matter. I was going to say slept with you. You're such a hothead. We slept together, that's all."

  "I swear, Flame, I've never had anyone make me as crazy as you manage to do. I'm not letting you just dismiss me after last night." His dark eyes glittered at her.

  She shrugged as nonchalantly as she could. "I'm certain you've rejected lots of women after sleeping with them. Don't act so outraged."

  He was angry. He could feel the anger churning in his gut, riding him hard as he struggled for control. He turned away, paced across the room when his fingers itched to shake her. She could pretend to be casual about what was happening between them all she wanted, but that's what it was--pretense. "You're being a damned coward, Flame, and that's beneath you."

  Her breath hissed out between her teeth and she whirled around, her eyes fairly shooting sparks. "Don't you dare call me a coward. You don't know the first thing about me. Your ego is a little wounded because I'm not falling at your feet like all the other women you took to bed and then walked away from."

  He stepped closer to her, uncaring that the walls of the cabin expanded and contracted and beneath his feet, the ground shifted ominously. "You think I don't know you want me as much as I want you? Hell, honey, you don' have near the experience I have."