Lethal Game

by Christine Feehan

His voice was like black velvet, sliding over her skin, caressing her, setting off another round of sparks as his fingers slid into her. She couldn’t help responding, riding them, her needs overcoming any sense of embarrassment. Any inhibition. He tore at the condom package with his teeth and quickly rolled it over his heavy erection.

  Amaryllis had no idea she was making any sounds at all. She heard them now, those soft little whimpers that meant anything and everything from fear to desperation. She felt the broad flared head at her entrance. Hot. Slick. Velvet and firm at the same time. Large. Lodging in her. His gaze burned into her, branding her, claiming her. She loved the way he looked at her. So focused. So completely hers. There was nothing else in his world at that moment, only her.

  He didn’t surge into her but rather invaded gently, persistently, when her tight muscles tried to refuse him entry. Her breath caught. She was somewhere between real pleasure and real pain. She couldn’t figure out which it was, but she knew she didn’t want him to stop.

  “Relax for me, baby,” he encouraged. His hand stroked her belly with that patient gentleness she was coming to associate with him.

  She made an effort to do as he instructed, and he slipped in a couple more inches. It felt scary and wonderful. The burn was exquisite—it was also terrifying and painful. She felt a part of him. The cool night air teased at her body like fingers sliding over her skin. Above her was his face, that beloved face, his eyes looking down at her with a mixture of lust and something else, an emotion she had never believed in, but now was beginning to accept might actually exist—in this man.

  Amaryllis felt overwhelmed with a sudden rising emotion she could only identify as love, and that scared her to death. She had never expected to feel so much for another human being. For a moment, he leaned down to kiss her. When he did, he surged forward. She felt that bite of pain and then he was fully in her, buried deep, stealing her breath and her heart.

  “Kiss me back, baby,” he whispered against her lips. “You’re freaking out for no reason at all. You’re safe with me.”

  “Am I?” She needed the reassurance because having him in her body, letting him take her heart and soul, was terrifying. “You have to be real, Malichai.”

  “I’m more real than you can imagine, Amaryllis.”

  She didn’t have to imagine anything, not with his body buried so deep in hers. Not with his mouth taking control of hers. She couldn’t help but give herself to him. He began to move as he lifted his head, at first gently. Flashes of fire spread through her with every thrust of his hips. She couldn’t breathe with the flames reaching to her lungs and licking over her skin.

  He seized her hips and she felt every one of his fingers gripping her tightly. He thrust faster. Harder. Deeper. It felt as if streaks of lightning raced through her body, spreading flames everywhere. Every hard jolt sent her breasts swaying, a sexy thrill that added to the sensual sensation.

  He lifted her bottom, holding her still while he plunged into her. Again and again. Over and over. The breath rushed out of her lungs, leaving them empty and burning raw. Everything in her seemed to center in one place, the tension building and building. Winding tighter and tighter. Coiling deep. She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t scream. Couldn’t think.

  There was only Malichai in her world. Malichai’s body moving in hers, creating that fiery friction that scored through her until she was nearly sobbing his name. Her fingers found the mattress, digging deep to hold on to some sort of reality. Streaks of fire raced from her sex to her breasts, dozens of bright hot arrows, shooting through her body. All the while her center just coiled tighter and tighter until she thought she might go insane.

  She felt his cock expanding, pushing at her tight sheath. She could feel his heart beat as he stretched her impossibly. It was so sexy, just like his face, those sensual lines carved deep. He kept moving in her, an impressive piston, surging so deep that each thrust robbed her of her ability to think straight.

  “Let go for me, baby,” he coaxed. “Just let go. I’m right here. Let go for me.”

  She had to, there was no other choice. It was terrifying, like the highest roller-coaster ride she could imagine, where that drop might be the very end of her, or the greatest thrill of her life. She fought for a breath, and looking into his eyes, let her body take over completely.

  The tsunami was far bigger than the last one he’d induced, rushing over her like that tidal wave that refused to be held back. One swell followed the next, each one larger, stronger, much more powerful, her body rippling with pleasure. Colors sparkled behind her eyes and she felt herself being flung out somewhere else, floating in a sea of sheer indulgence. Sensual. Sexy. Perfect.

  She took him with her, clamping down on his cock like a vise, the friction exquisite, demanding everything from him. Every last drop. She wanted it all, everything he had, and he gave it to her. She felt the hot splash of his seed, inside that glove, that was how tight the fit, the stretch in her muscles he created. She cried out as he emptied himself into her, as her body responded to the fierce jerking and pulsing of his with more hot, passionate shocks.

  He lay over top of her, fighting for breath, his face pressed against her throat. She could feel his harsh breathing, matching her own ragged desperation. It seemed like forever before he kissed her throat and then pulled slowly out of her with clear reluctance. She hissed as another exquisite wave rushed over her. Any little movement seemed to trigger an orgasm, not that she was complaining, but it was rather shocking.

  Amaryllis stretched, her eyes on him as he tied a knot in the condom and set it aside before turning back to her. She lay looking up at the stars, her body still rippling occasionally, sending little shock waves through her. Malichai remained on his stomach, his arm around her hips, pillowing his head on her belly. His thick, dark hair teased her stomach, adding to the sensations moving through her body, until all she could feel was bliss. Sheer bliss. She hadn’t known a body could feel that way and continue to feel it even afterward.

  Her fingers idly slid through his hair, massaging his scalp. “Malichai, do you really want me to marry you? As in the real thing? A forever kind of thing?”

  No one had ever really wanted her, not for herself, her own sake. Whitney had wanted to conduct his experiments on her, even as a child. She didn’t have a sisterhood, because Whitney had separated the girls, afraid they would be loyal to one another, not to him. He was a monster. There was no being loyal to him. He might have been her only parent figure, but she had known, early on, that something was very wrong with him. Some of the other girls hadn’t figured it out for a long time and she felt bad for them. They had needed a parent. She might have needed one, but she had come to the conclusion, very early, that Whitney was not that person.

  Malichai lifted his head and pressed kisses over her belly. So many. Each found its way inside her. His lips were warm and soft, yet so firm, sliding over her skin like living flames. His teeth nipped, stinging deliciously, and then his tongue stroked, easing that little ache that seemed to trigger more explosions inside her.

  “Forever is what I’m asking of you, Amaryllis. I want you to come home with me, marry me, stay with me no matter what happens. To do that, you’re going to have to trust me.” He rested his chin on her belly, his eyes that peculiar shade of Florentine gold. When his eyes were that color, his gaze seemed to burn his name right into her bones, branding her his.

  “I trust you.” She thought she did . . . She did . . . It was difficult.

  “You’re getting there,” he said. “I expect, after Whitney, trusting anyone would be hard, but trusting a man you barely know would be next to impossible.”

  “Not impossible. I watched you all the time, Malichai.” She had. Every move he made. Every word he’d said. If there was a stalker, it wasn’t Malichai. It had been her. From the moment he’d offered to fix the dishwasher, inserting himself into Marie’s and Jacy’s li
ves, she’d observed him, needing to protect her friends from possible trouble.

  She knew how he moved. How he turned his head. What he looked like when he took a breath. His smile. God. His smile. How could anyone resist his smile? It came slowly and then lit those golden eyes. Sometimes his eyes seemed to be the color of whiskey, then a deeper amber, and finally, finally, her favorite, that Florentine gold. She loved that burn as the flames licked over her skin and went bone deep. That was when she felt the closest to him.

  “Are you beginning to think I’m trustworthy?”

  He smiled at her and her heart seemed to melt while her stomach did that slow somersault that always made her go damp and needy. Her hand found his hair as he lay his cheek on her belly again. She liked the feel of the scratchy shadow on his jaw. It was sexy. Sensual. A burn that was real and had that same effect of setting off a reaction in her body. This time, she wanted to touch him. Explore his body. Only she couldn’t move. She was too exhausted. She liked just lying there feeling sated and happy.

  “Amaryllis?” He turned his head to nip her firm skin.

  She jumped and then laughed. She’d never had anyone to share an evening like this with. Both lay naked under the stars, the cool night breeze fanning their overheated bodies. Talking quietly together. Was that what couples did? Was it small things that wove those relationships tighter? Made them stronger? She didn’t know, but she loved being with Malichai just like this. Talking softly to him. Getting his reassurance. Giving him the same.

  “I trusted you with my body, Malichai. And I’m letting you steal my heart, so I’d have to say you’re in there. I definitely have reached a point where I trust you.”

  “Enough to go home with me?” he pressed.

  “I said I would. As long as I’m not leaving Marie and Jacy in a bad way, I’ll go.”

  “And you’ll marry me?”

  She found herself laughing just for the sheer joy of being with him. “I said I would.”

  “You didn’t sound like you meant it.”

  “I meant it. You just want to hear me say it over and over.”

  “That too.”

  They both laughed. She liked the way they sounded together. Almost as if they were creating music together.

  “And you really do want children, Amaryllis? I know we sort of talked about this, but it wasn’t like you knew I was asking because it mattered to me.”

  She stilled. She loved Jacy, but she wasn’t Jacy’s mother. “You know I never had a mother, Malichai.”

  “I didn’t either. Or at least mine didn’t count. But I want children. Maybe a dozen.”

  She burst out laughing again. “You do not.”

  “Okay, I led with that so you wouldn’t think three or four was a huge number.”

  “Are you trying to make me throw you off the roof?”

  “I’m trying to tell you I want a family with you. I want to be close to my brothers and their children so we’re the best aunt and uncle that ever lived. I want to raise the children strong, so my daughters are like you, always thinking, always using their brains, and when they have to use self-defense, hands, feet or weapons, they don’t hesitate. You didn’t hesitate. I loved that.”

  Again, he turned his head, so she felt the brush of the bristly shadow on his jaw and then the sweep of his lips before his teeth teased at the skin of her belly. “My little warrior woman. You really can do it all. Cook. Give me children. And fight. You’re damned amazing.”

  She laughed, trying not to move her legs restlessly. That burning had gone through her skin to burrow deep. The smoldering fire seemed to be building into something much stronger. “Roll over, Malichai.” Desperation was beginning to set in.

  He did so immediately. “Sorry, baby. Was I too heavy?”

  Malichai lay on his back. He turned his head toward Amaryllis, drinking in the sight of her. She didn’t answer him but instead scooted down until she lay in the position he’d been in—her head on his belly, her arm across his thighs, one hand on his hips, in close to his groin. He tried not to feel her fingers as she began to idly trace along his hip bone and then the muscles of his abdomen. Every time she traced around one, the muscles rippled, as if they found her fingers as sensual as he did.

  “You don’t mind that I can fight?”

  Her breath was warm on his skin. Every word sent an intriguing puff of air along his abdomen, so close to his groin. His cock stirred. There was no stopping it. He felt the broad head nudge along her throat as if asking for entrance. Her breasts pushed tight against his thigh, her nipples two hard peaks.

  “Why would I mind? You’ll need to be able to fight. Sooner or later, enemies will come. I like knowing I can have confidence in my partner, that she’ll be right there with me when we defend our home, our children and our extended family.”

  It was a little difficult to talk when she turned her face into his belly, nuzzling him, her tongue tracing his muscles the way a paintbrush might. He stayed very still, but his cock didn’t. It just kept growing. Getting longer. Thicker. Harder. His heavy sac tightened. He hadn’t thought it possible so soon, but he was already feeling heat spreading through him. That relentless ache building. His cock pushed against the underside of her chin.

  Amaryllis tilted her head just a scant inch or two and her warm breath seemed to engulf him. Malichai closed his eyes. He enjoyed every second, yet at the same time, he wanted to take control, catch her hair in his hand and push his cock deep into her mouth. He forced himself to be patient.

  Her fingers moved from his belly to his balls, sliding over them, shaping them, stroking, a whisper of touch that left behind flickering points of flames dancing over his sac, feeding the heat inside. Then she was cupping his balls, rolling with equal gentleness. Her body shifted and his breath left his lungs in a rush he couldn’t control. Her tongue licked up and over each of the balls, and then her lips sipped delicately. Tasting him.

  She lifted her head. “You’re like velvet, did you know that?”

  He didn’t. “No, baby.” He dropped his hand to her head because he couldn’t help himself. He needed more. Much more, but he wanted her to have her exploration, if that was what she was doing. It had to come from her. He wasn’t going to take anything she didn’t offer him. No matter how much he wanted or needed her mouth, he refused to give in to the urgent demands of his body. Or push her head down over him where he needed her mouth to the point he might not survive if she didn’t give him that immediately. “I didn’t know.”

  “Well, that’s how you feel. Just like velvet. And your skin tastes good. Sort of wild and masculine, like a rare, exotic flavor that was created just for me.”

  Before he could reply, she turned her head and licked along the base of his shaft. Her tongue felt just like the velvet she claimed his balls were. She curled it and teased around the very base, over and over, lapping, stroking, even flicking. The sensations were amazing. All the while, her fingers were sliding over his balls, stroking those long caresses that threatened to drive him insane.

  “You really do taste good, Malichai.”

  “I’m glad you think so, Amaryllis, because what you’re doing is hot as hell.”

  She licked up his shaft as if it were ice cream. “I can see you feel that way. I love how responsive you are to me. I don’t have to ask if you like something.”

  He found himself smiling. “Yeah, my cock is letting you know, baby. Keep it up.”

  She already was, the tip of her tongue sliding under the crown, finding that little vee that had his cock pulsing, jerking hotly, his heart beating furiously along the heavy vein. She licked over the broad head, finding the little drops leaking, telling her she was doing everything he loved. She spent time, lapping them up and then, without warning, her mouth engulfed the entire crown.

  His hips bucked. He had to fight for a single breath of air. She might just ki
ll him. Her mouth was hot and moist. She looked hot as hell with her lips stretched around his cock. She’d rolled all the way onto her belly, her legs in between his, her upper body lying on his thighs. She sucked hard and then her tongue lashed and curled, slid up and down and around the sensitive head of his cock. There was no rhythm to what she was doing, no way to guess what was coming next. She simply did whatever she wanted in her exploration.

  Then her mouth was off him and she lapped at him, over his balls, up his shaft, under and over the crown. This time she took him deeper, taking in a little more of him. Her fist curled around the base of his shaft while her mouth once more drove him to the point where he thought his head would explode.

  When she took her mouth off him again, he growled. Her gaze jumped to his face and he swore there was a hint of laughter in her eyes.

  “Do you know how sexy it feels to have you in my mouth? You’re so heavy on my tongue. And hot. Scorching hot. I love your taste and texture. I could do this all night. What would you think about that?”

  The idea of lying in bed with her, her mouth around his cock, feeding it to her, feeling her sucking while they just lay together . . . She was conjuring up erotic images with her talk of taste and texture and wanting to suck on his cock all night. Hell. He growled again because he couldn’t actually find words to say.

  “Is there something you want, honey?” She sounded innocent. A little too innocent.

  “I want your mouth right back where it was.” He didn’t mind in the least letting her know what he wanted. He fisted her hair and pulled her toward his cock. “Suck hard, baby, and do that thing with your tongue. It drives me crazy.”

  She laughed as he all but pushed her head down over his cock, forcing his way into her mouth. The vibration ran up his shaft and teased the sensitive crown. He loved looking at her lips stretched so wide around him. She hollowed her cheeks and sucked hard. The sensation was exquisite. Perfection. Just as the vision was.

  “That’s it, baby, use your fist. Tighter. Pump up and down.” She was fast at learning because she listened, and it mattered to her that he was loving what she was doing to him.