Spider Game

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Spider Game Page 34

by Christine Feehan


  That was it. Right there. She trusted him implicitly to give her pleasure, to see to her pleasure no matter what he did to her. That gift was beyond any price. He stepped close, so close he could feel the heat waiting for him. That scorching tunnel of silk waiting to surround and strangle him.

  The thought was too much. He caught her hips and slammed home. The sensation of her scalding muscles gripping him so tightly as he invaded, as he drove so deep he felt the bump as he touched her womb. She screamed.

  "Trap. That's so good. Perfect. Like that. Do me just like that."

  "I'll do you however I want." He stayed buried in her. Holding her to him. Feeling those muscles trying to strangle him, pouring into her mind to ensure she wasn't hurting anywhere. He wanted only pleasure for her.

  She wiggled. "You have to move. I'm not going to survive if you don't move. I need this too, honey. Please move. Hard. Rough. I want to feel you. Let go this time. Completely."

  "Baby." The thought of that--of losing himself in her--was such a temptation. Too much of one.

  He pulled back and surged forward. Hard. Deep. Again and again. Fire streaked up his body, sizzled along every nerve ending in tune to her ragged breathing and soft cries of pleasure. Her pleas became demands. He loved that when he took her hard and rough, she pushed back into him, eager for more. So eager, she made her own demands.

  He pounded into her, and let the fire take him. Consume him. He lost himself in the sheer beauty of her body. In the love he had for her and the knowledge that she gave herself to him so completely. He could have her any way he needed her and she'd give him that.

  She pushed back, meeting his every stroke. Hard. Her breath hissing out of her lungs. Her body gripping his hard. Taking him deep. The scorching silk surrounded him, that tight, fiery tunnel of sheer bliss. He felt the coiling tension in her, heard the change in her breathing, the moans that sounded like music to him, and he knew she was so close. The need to give that beautiful gift to her was in every loving stroke of his body.

  Lust was there, but love was the most prevalent, overwhelming emotion, tied so tightly with his lust that he couldn't separate the two. The emotion made every streak of lightning, every fiery flame rushing like a fireball through his body so much stronger, sharper and raw.

  Her body clamped down on his. Her breath hissed out in a long scream of his name, triggering his own release. There was no holding back the volcano. His cock erupted, slamming deep inside of her, his seed splashing into her scorching channel, filling her, pushing her climax higher. His cock jerked hard, over and over, as she milked him violently for every drop her body could wring out of his.

  He couldn't move, his legs unsteady as he gripped her hips so she wouldn't collapse onto her bruised chest. Clearly her body had healed quickly from the injury, leaving behind the discoloring, but she wasn't nearly in as much pain as she should have been. He held her still until he could breathe again. Only then did he slowly pull out of her and guide her over onto her back. She sprawled out on the mattress, her breathing still ragged, her breasts heaving.

  He followed her down and wrapped his arm tight around her waist. He pulled her into the protection of his body. He was completely sated, his cock limp and still feeling the burn of bliss. He pressed the length of him against her thigh.

  "I have to clean up," she said softly.

  "Don't. Go to sleep with me in you. I'm planting my babies in you. I want to go to sleep knowing that's happening." He murmured the order against the cloud of her dark hair.

  "Trap. You're getting arrogant. And bossy." There was amusement in her voice, but she didn't stir. Her body stayed tight against his.

  "You make me that way, baby." It was the strict truth. He knew he could have what he wanted, because she loved him and would give him anything.

  She laughed softly, and the sound was like a miracle to him. "I'm in your mind right now and I'll give you anything within reason. I like to be there when you're inside me or when my mouth is wrapped around your cock. I like how I make you feel. It's sexy and makes me feel especially good knowing I'm the one that makes you feel like that."

  "Baby," he corrected, because it was the truth. "You'll give me any fucking thing I ask you for. You think I don't know you by now? You think I don't know what's the most important thing in your world? I know, because you're the most important thing in mine. I'd give you the fucking world. You won't do less. You're far more giving than I am. So don't try to fool me. I ask, you're going to give it to me."

  She sighed. "You're such a pain, Trap."

  "I know, baby. Go to sleep. You have about two hours and then I'm going to be waking you up again. I've got plans for you."

  "I'm injured," she pointed out. Her voice was mild. Not a protest. She didn't care that she was injured.

  "There's no need to remind me. It's burned in my fucking brain, Cayenne. You keep bringing it up and I'm going to injure your beautiful ass for you."

  She laughed softly. "Trap, you're so full of it. Even if you did, I'd have your cock two seconds later. That wouldn't be much of a punishment."

  His hand cupped her face and turned it toward him. He didn't want her to have any doubts about the man he was. "You're right about that, baby. You'd have my cock. My mouth. My hands. But I wouldn't give you release, and I wouldn't let you give it to yourself either. Not for a long, long time. I don't have to hurt you to punish you. I would never, under any circumstances hurt you. But you'd pay for making me relive that fucking moment over and over."

  She shivered. Her eyes went dark green. Sexy. Her tongue came out and licked her lips. Top and bottom. She pressed her body closer. "I'm not certain I could take that, Trap."

  "You'll take it. And then I'll make it so good for you that you'll scream my name over and over. Never doubt that I'll make it good for you." His arm tightened. His fingers slid over her face gently. Tenderly. "I love you, Cayenne. So much. Maybe too much."

  She smiled and turned onto her side, facing away from him, pressing her bottom into his lap. "I love you that much too, Trap. Way more than is good for you."

  He needed that. Her loving him like that. He was clinging too hard. Needing too much, but she gave him that. He knew, with time, he could ease back, but right now, with danger surrounding her, with his past so close, he couldn't let go. As always, he knew, she would give him exactly what he needed. He waited to sleep until he felt her body relax completely and her breathing even out. Then he followed her.

  --

  Cayenne's heart pounded hard. She wanted to bolt. It took every ounce of self-control she had not to lean over and bite Nonny, paralyze her and escape out the window. Other than Trap, no one had ever fussed over her. She wasn't used to being the center of attention. The dress felt foreign on her body. It was beautiful, no doubt about that. Trap always provided her with the best of everything.

  Her wardrobe had grown significantly. She didn't know why. They lived in the swamp, away from most people. Nonny and Pepper were her only friends, and they wore jeans most of the time like she did. Well, Pepper, when all three women had a little too much of Nonny's homemade strawberry wine, had confessed she wore long skirts so she didn't have to wear underwear and Wyatt could catch her anywhere in the house and have his way with her. It was an exciting game between them finding a hiding spot surrounded by their family. At home, Cayenne rarely wore clothes. If she did, it was a shirt, but she supposed once she had children, long skirts might just be the perfect attire.

  "You look beautiful," Nonny said.

  Cayenne smoothed her hand down the white silk dress that clung to her curves and dropped to the floor in panels of beads and lace. She couldn't fault the gown. It was exquisite. It fit perfectly. She wanted Trap to see her in it, but he wasn't the only one out there waiting for her. Pepper and Nonny were standing up for her. Draden and Wyatt were standing for Trap.

  The triplets, dressed in long ruffled peach gowns, raced around the room, so excited they couldn't keep still. Everyone was waiting, a
nd she couldn't move. She was frozen to the spot and near tears. She couldn't walk out there with everyone watching. It wasn't just Wyatt's team--men she was familiar with--and that would have been hard enough. Wyatt's brother Gator was there with his wife, Flame, and several members of Gator's team. All strangers. Flame was nice. Very nice and she seemed understanding. But to have all of them staring at her . . .

  Her palms hurt. She closed her fingers, forming a fist, her palm covered. She could feel the needles going through her skin, penetrating deep. Pinning her down. An insect. She felt venom rising. Her mouth hurt from keeping her lips clamped tight.

  "Cayenne?" Nonny's voice sounded far away.

  Trap. She reached out telepathically. He wasn't supposed to see her before the ceremony. She knew that. Knew they would all disapprove, but she needed him. She was desperate for his strength.

  Baby. What is it?

  She clung to his mind, knew he was surrounded by his friends. All the men he knew. Still, he answered her immediately.

  I can't . . . She trailed off. She could marry him. Just not like this. Not with everyone staring at her like she was an insect under a microscope. She wasn't a true arachnid because she didn't have eight legs. But still, she preferred that to the insect that all the men liked to call her. If they were referring to the spider in her, they should at least get that part right.

  The door swung open and he filled the space, his wide shoulders and tall frame taking nearly every inch of it up. He was dressed in a black tuxedo and he looked gorgeous, the most handsome man she could possibly imagine. He took her breath away. Nonny scowled at him. Pepper tried to shoo him out. The little girls screeched a welcome and ran to throw arms around his legs. His hands automatically went to the girls' hair, but he didn't look at any of them. Only her. Only Cayenne, as if she was all he could see.

  The terrible burning in her lungs eased, and for the first time in hours she felt she could draw air all the way in. He absently patted the girls on their heads and then, eyes still on her face, strode right in, closing the door behind him, muting the noise and blocking all view of her to their guests.

  "Baby," he said softly, as if they were the only two people in the room. His voice was black velvet, intimate. Brushing over her skin like the pads of his fingers. Featherlight, but commanding. His voice steadied her instantly. "Talk to me."

  She swallowed hard, feeling a coward. He needed this from her, and she always wanted to please him, to make him happy. She knew this was important to him, but she couldn't make her feet move. Trap had called a reporter he sometimes talked to, one he respected more than most. He'd given him the scoop that one of the world's most eligible bachelors was off the market and getting married in a few days. There was a picture of the two of them, smiling at each another, and a brief write-up on her, with a background she still was memorizing.

  Trap had even given her dance lessons every night so they could dance after they were married. Trap seemed good at everything he did. He was graceful, fluid even, like a cat, and when he moved across the floor to the music, his rhythm was impeccable. In the privacy of their home, she loved it. She loved the feel of his body against hers, the masterful way he guided her steps, the shared laughter. She didn't feel awkward at all. She actually felt happy. His woman. But not here. Not in front of them all.

  Trap gently moved Nonny out of his way. "Baby, you should have called to me the moment you started getting nervous. There was no need for you to get so frightened."

  She moistened her lips. "This is important to you." Her voice was low. A confession when she hadn't even told him what a coward she was.

  "You're important to me. Talk to me. What's wrong?" He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her into his side, under his shoulder, shielding her the way he did with his body.

  "There's too many people," she admitted, her fingers finding the lapel of his elegant jacket. "I can't walk out there in front of them with all of them staring at me." A small shudder went through her body. "I know they're your friends and you want them here. I want them here for you as well, but I can't seem to move."

  She was close to tears. Too close. It would ruin the makeup Pepper had so carefully applied for the photographs. Nonny explained the importance of pictures and showed her several of the family albums. Pictures of her four grandsons decorated the walls. There were beautiful photographs of Gator and Flame as well as Wyatt and Pepper in the parlor and along the wall above the stairs. Cayenne wanted to line her walls with pictures of Trap and her, or just Trap. She wanted her home to feel the way Nonny's house felt.

  Trap bent his head to hers, his strong fingers under her chin, tilting her face toward his. "Baby, you don't have to go out there alone. This is our ceremony. We get to make up the rules."

  "I've already ruined everything because you aren't supposed to see me ahead of time."

  "Do you think I've ever, in my life, given a flying fuck about the rules? I haven't. That's the answer, babe, I've never cared about rules. You don't want to walk out there alone, without me, we walk out together. The girls can go ahead of us. No one's going to care. They're just happy you got me all wrapped around your little finger so they can give me hell whenever they feel like it."

  She couldn't help it. He made her want to laugh. It was such a Trap response. "You can't swear in front of the girls. Nonny told me if you keep it up, she might have to wash out your mouth with soap. I like kissing you and you might not taste as good."

  Trap grinned at her, completely unrepentant. He kept her pinned to her side. "Let's do this, Pepper. Nonny, you get them to start the music and we'll get married. The sooner we're married, the sooner I get to have you in my bed."

  Cayenne frowned at him. "I was just in your bed."

  "Yeah, baby, and once I had that taste of you, I needed more. It wasn't enough."

  "Trap!" Nonny said sharply. "We have children in the room."

  "With Wyatt around, Nonny, I think those girls are going to grow up knowing what their men are going to be expecting."

  Nonny shook her head, raised an eyebrow at Pepper and pulled open the door to signal to Wyatt to put on the music. She went first, followed by Pepper and the triplets, who solemnly flung flower petals in all directions. Trap kept her clamped to his side, his large body protective, partially shielding her as they followed the little girls.

  It was a very short walk. Rows of chairs had been set up in the room with a path between them so the wedding party could make their way to the minister. Cayenne found her heart beating so hard she feared Trap would hear it. He knew she was nervous because she was trembling uncontrollably. She didn't look at anyone, just stared straight ahead, concentrating on Trap. The feel of his hard body moving so close to hers. His breathing. The strength in his arm as it wound around her waist. His massive chest where her hand lay.

  Baby, thank you for doing this. I know it's scary for you, but once it's done, you're legally my wife and I'm your husband. I've always been yours, but this makes it official to the rest of the world.

  She felt his fingers flex on her waist. I want to make you happy. She did. More than anything else, she wanted Trap happy. She knew the demons he had. She had her own, but she never had a family to lose. Now that she saw Nonny, Wyatt and Pepper and their daughters, she understood what having a family meant. He'd had that and it had been ripped from him. She couldn't undo the past, but she wanted to do everything in her power to give him something just as beautiful. Maybe, if she was lucky, even more so.

  It was a very short ceremony. She repeated the vows in a low voice. Trap sounded firm. He never once took his arm from around her until he had to in order to put the diamond band on her finger, pushing it next to her diamond engagement ring. Pepper had gasped when she saw the ring, but had just smiled when Cayenne asked her why.

  Trap's expression, the look in his eyes, when the minister pronounced them man and wife, had tears burning close. She knew, in that moment, she'd done something huge to make him happy. His kiss was
everything she'd come to expect. Hot. Hard. Commanding. Demanding and possessive. Catcalls and whistles erupted along with applause.

  Trap didn't leave her side after the ceremony either. He did most of the talking to the GhostWalkers as everyone celebrated with copious amounts of food. The music started and Trap whirled her onto the dance floor, holding her close to his body, enfolding her into his arms as if she were the most precious thing in the world.

  "You are," he whispered. "Have no doubt that I'll always take care of you, Cayenne."

  "I plan on taking care of you," she told him, meaning it.

  She vowed silently to love him better than anyone else could possibly do. She moved in his arms to the rhythm of the music, drifting on a tidal wave of love. Of need. So close to him, it was impossible not to feel hunger for him. Pepper and Nonny had bought her an outfit for bed, one she was more than delighted to show him before going to bed, but she didn't see why she would want to wear it in bed. Still, they told her he would love it, so she knew she'd wear it.

  "Phone's for you, Trap," Wyatt said, tapping him on the shoulder.

  "I'm a little busy." Trap didn't look up, his arms around Cayenne as they moved across the dance floor.

  "I think you'll want to take this one," Wyatt said. "It's an assistant who is holdin' for Violet Smythe. The Violet Smythe in the running to be a candidate for the vice presidency. The same Violet Smythe who was married to Senator Ed Freeman who set up Jack and Ken Norton from Team Two in the Congo. The same woman who betrayed all the women in Whitney's compound when they were prisoners being forced to be with men they didn't want to be with. That Violet Smythe."

  The room went instantly silent. Ryland Miller, head of Team One, Gator's team, stepped away from the wall where he'd been lounging. "She recently pulled the plug on her husband. He'd been in a vegetative state for some months. We believe she did so on Whitney's orders. It's rumored she might actually be paired with Whitney, but no one has confirmed that as of yet. Clearly she is in league with him."

  "Why would she be calling Trap?" Draden asked.

  Trap shrugged. "Doesn't matter. I don't have anything to say to the bitch."

  "Trap," Nonny snapped. "Do not refer to a woman as a bitch, even if she is one."

 

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