His Wicked Games (His Wicked Games #1) (15 page)

“You said it yourself,” he says, his voice
deep and rough. “When I leave this car, it's over. We'll probably
never see each other again.”

He wants me to crack, to be the first one to
give into the baser sensations running through my flesh. But I know
I'm stronger than he expects.

“Probably not,” I say casually.

Still he remains in the car, his eyes fixed
on me. His grip on the clothes is so tight that his knuckles are
white. I feel my own resistance start to crumble the longer we sit
here, and I know he has to leave if I'm to get out of this with my
pride—and my sanity—still intact.

“Well?” I say. “You've got the clothes.
Shouldn't you head back to the house?”

He frowns. “I guess I should.”

I'm afraid for a brief moment that he'll stay
anyway, but it appears that the intense moment between us has
passed. Calder opens the door and climbs out, leaving me alone in
the car.

And—oh yeah—completely naked.

<<>>

This isn't a high point of my life, that's
for sure.

No purse, no keys, no phone, no clothes. I'm
not really sure what to do, but all of my options look pretty
bleak, and most of them involve me going back to Calder's mansion.
I reach over the back of the seat for the emergency car kit I keep
in my trunk. There's a thin blanket inside, and I wrap it around my
shoulders. On top of everything else, the nasty, rainy weather
ensures my self-induced imprisonment will be freezing.

But in spite of it all, I'd do everything
again in a heartbeat. It was completely worth it to watch Calder’s
face, to see him, for once, flustered and overwhelmed. That little
taste of power had an intense effect on me, and I'm surprised at
how aroused I am. I feel intoxicated.

I lie down again, the emergency blanket
wrapped around me. I'm so high after my mini-victory that I tell
myself it's all right to slide a finger down my body—between my
breasts, across my belly, toward the sensitive place between my
legs.

It's all right to imagine it’s Calder
touching me instead.

I can still feel his breath on my neck, his
warm fingers grazing my skin. All the desire that’s been building
over the past couple days comes to the surface. My whole body
reacts to the gentle caress of my fingers. Prickles dance across my
skin as I imagine what might have happened between us had either
Calder or I been the tiniest bit weaker. What might have happened
if I’d let my guard down—or if Calder had learned that I spied on
him the other night. My hand slips along my wetness, and I bite
back a moan.

And then I see the movement out of the corner
of my eye.

I jerk upright, clutching the blanket to my
chest.

Calder stands outside the car, a bag in his
hand. His mouth is slightly open, his eyes burning with such desire
that I feel as if he can see right through my meager covering. He
reaches for the door handle.

“What are you doing?” I squeak, scrambling
back against the other door as the cold air rushes in around him.
“You're supposed to be back at the house!”

“I was,” he says, leaning through the open
door. His voice is low and thick. “But I felt bad for leaving you,
so I brought you your things.”

“Fine. Leave them here, then.”

He shakes his head. He still stands halfway
in and halfway out of the car.

“You're not supposed to be here,” I say
desperately. “You're not supposed to watch someone when they… when
they're…”

I remember my actions in the secret
passageway and my cheeks burn even more. This can’t be happening. I
want to run away again, but there’s nowhere to go.

Calder takes no pity on my obvious
distress.

“Tell me you weren't thinking about me,” he
says.

“What?” I choke out.

“Just now. Tell me you weren't thinking about
me as you touched yourself, and I'll turn around and walk right
back to the house.”

I'm having difficulty breathing, but I force
myself to look him in the eye. “And if I was?”

His own eyes are half-closed as he watches
me, and when he speaks, his voice is little more than a growl.

“Then you're in trouble, Ms. Frazer.”

He dives into the car, slamming into me so
hard that my head knocks back against the window behind me. But he
either doesn't notice or doesn't care, and before I can even utter
a sound of pain, his lips are on mine.

For the briefest moment, I consider pushing
him away. But as desire flares between us, bright and powerful, I
lose what little sense I have left. I grab the front of his shirt
in my fist and pull him harder against me.

His mouth moves against mine, rough and
unyielding, while one of his hands slips around my neck. The other
moves between us, yanking the emergency blanket from my grip and
tossing it aside.

“Fuck, Lily,” he murmurs against my mouth.
“Fuck, I want you.”

His hand moves across my breast, down my
belly, to my hip. He drags me toward him, holding me against the
bulge in his pants, and all the while his lips are moving against
my own. I meet his rough kisses with equal passion, slipping my
tongue into his mouth to dance with his.

He half-lifts me toward him, his hand moving
over my bare ass. His fingers press against my flesh as they slide
across the curve of my bottom and slip between my legs. I quiver at
that intimate touch.

He tears his mouth away from mine.

“Tell me,” he rasps.

I'm just as breathless as he is. “Tell you
what?”

“Tell me what you were thinking about when
you touched yourself.” His finger moves along the edge of my
swollen lips but no further. “What made you this wet?”

Heat washes over my face. “I—I don't
know.”

“Tell me,” he begs. He slides back, but only
so he can bend his head to my neck. He trails kisses down the
column of my throat. Both of his hands move to my breasts,
squeezing and kneading as his hot tongue slides over my skin. My
fingers dig into his shoulders.

“I was thinking of you,” I whisper.

His teeth graze the skin at the hollow of my
throat. “Tell me more.”

“I was thinking of how you—” I gasp as he
nips at the skin over my collarbone. “In the gallery, the way
you…”

“The way I…”

No one's ever asked me to describe things
like this to them before, and I have to struggle for the words.

“The way you touched me,” I say awkwardly.
“The way you—the way you played with my breasts.”

In response, he catches one of my nipples
between his thumb and forefinger and twists. “Like this?”

“Yes,” I breathe. His free hand moves to my
other breast, repeating the motion. I moan and squirm, but he's
relentless. Meanwhile, his head is moving lower, falling until I
can feel his warm breath against my breasts. His lips are rough on
the sensitive skin, but I don't care. When he removes his fingers
to close his mouth around one of my nipples, I whimper and grab him
by the shoulders, my nails digging into his skin. He sucks and
nibbles at my tender nub. Pleasure and pain sweep through me as
one.

“What else?” he growls around his
mouthful.

I can hardly think straight anymore. All of
my senses are heightened, and the throbbing between my legs
increases with every ragged breath. I was already close to
finishing when he found me, and now I'm about to slip over the
edge. I slide my hands up his neck to tangle them in his thick
hair.

“What else?” he says again. This time he
bites down on me, and my hands close into fists around his dark
locks.

“The way you slipped your fingers inside of
me,” I say, my voice cracking.

He moves one hand down my body and between my
legs, and before I can even shift in response, he thrusts two
fingers inside of me.

Pleasure shudders through me, and I cry out
and yank at Calder's hair as the world explodes around me. My body
spasms, and my passage clenches around the fingers he still moves
in and out of me. Wave after wave it comes, sweeping through me
with an intensity that leaves me trembling in its wake.

I lie there against the seat, weak and
breathless, as Calder moves his mouth to my ear once more.

“Those must have been some pretty vivid
thoughts, to get you worked up like that,” he murmurs. His fingers
are still inside of me, and he moves them slowly, sending
aftershocks rippling through my flesh.

“What else?” he whispers into my ear. “What
else do you want me to do?”

I can hardly put together a coherent thought,
let alone speak. My hands are still clenched around his hair, but
the rest of my body is languid and warm.

“Maybe,” he rasps after a moment, “I should
tell you what I want instead.”

He increases the speed of his fingers once
more, and already I can feel the tension building in me again.

“I've been thinking of you, too,” he says. He
slips his fingers from me suddenly and reaches up, pulling one of
my hands from his hair. His grip is slick, dripping with my own
juices, but I don't pull away, even when he moves my hand down to
the bulge in his pants. He's rock hard beneath the fabric, and his
erection jumps at my touch. When he releases me, I keep my hand
there, sliding it slowly down his length.

He makes a sound deep in his throat. His
entire body is rigid, his arms and shoulders so tense that I can
feel them quivering beneath my touch.

“What do you want me to do?” I whisper.

He doesn't say anything as I continue to rub
him slowly through the fabric of his pants. Finally I reach up and
tug at the hem of his damp shirt, thinking to pull it over his
head, but his hand clamps around my wrist.

“My restraint only goes so far,” he says. His
eyes bore into mine. “I want you, Lily. I want to fuck you until
you can't move, until you can't think, until you've forgotten
everything else but me. It won't be gentle. If you don't want that,
then tell me, and I'll leave this car. But if I stay… I don't know
how much longer I'll be able to control myself.”

His words light a fire under my skin. I've
never had anyone stare at me with such hunger, or speak to me with
such passion. I know I should tell him to leave. I should throw on
my clothes and grab my keys and drive away from this place without
looking back. But my body is bent on betraying me. In this moment,
I don't care about what's smart or right or logical. I don't care
about what he's done to the Center. I know only that my body comes
alive at his touch, that I'm drowning in such desire that I'm not
even sure which way is up anymore.

I give Calder a single nod.

“You're sure?” he rasps.

I nod again, and this time he doesn't
hesitate. He grabs me and yanks me against him, his mouth attacking
mine. Heat surges between us as he pushes me down on the seat. I
reach again for his shirt, and he helps me tug it up over his
shoulders, exposing his perfectly muscled chest. My hands flutter
to his stomach then slide up his torso, gliding over the smooth
ridges of his body. I could spend an hour inspecting every hard
plane of his flesh, but Calder isn't that patient. He pushes me
back down, pinning me beneath his weight, and his lips crush
against mine once more. I moan and raise my tongue to meet his.

My hands move to the waistband of his pants,
reaching desperately for his fly. His own hand slips between us to
help me, unfastening the button as I tug at the zipper. He slides
his pants and boxer-briefs down in one motion, not bothering to
push them past his knees. Neither of us care at this point. My body
aches with need for him, and I can tell he feels it too. The long,
hard length of him is wedged between us, the smooth skin hot
against my lower abdomen.

He reaches down and grasps for his pocket.
After a couple seconds of searching, he produces a condom.

“Always prepared, huh?” I ask
breathlessly.

He smiles. “After everything that’s happened
between us, it seemed like a good idea to have one close.”

He tears the wrapper open with his teeth and
slips the condom quickly over his impressive length. I hardly have
any time to admire him before he grabs my legs and pulls them up,
hooking my ankles over his shoulders. My bare toes brush against
the ceiling of the car. He lowers himself slowly, trapping my
thighs between our bodies and positioning his cock between my
legs.

He only allows me the briefest of moments to
relish the feeling of him against my opening. I take a ragged
breath, and he plunges inside of me, ramming himself to the hilt in
a single thrust. I cry out in pleasure and dig my nails into his
back.

“Fuck,” he breathes against my neck. “Fuck,
you feel good.”

He turns his face and claims my mouth,
slipping his tongue between my lips. I cling to him as my body
throbs around his cock, adjusting to the sudden fullness.

When he begins to move, I feel as if the
world is crumbling away around us. He drives into me, slowly at
first but quickly increasing in speed. Over and over and over again
he buries himself, and he leans harder against the backs of my
thighs with every thrust. I can't move even if I wanted to. I can
only submit to his body, to the demands of his mouth and his cock.
I curl my fingers, pressing my nails further into his skin.

He pauses only once, to grab my arms and yank
them up, catching them by the wrists. He presses them down on the
cushion on either side of my head, trapping them in his grip. It's
cramped—one of my arms is bent against the seat, the other elbow
rubs the back of the seat in front of us—but I don't care. I don't
care about anything but the heat of his skin against mine, the
fullness of him inside of me, the joys of his body.

“Fuck, Lily,” he chokes out.

I catch his mouth with mine and suck his
bottom lip between my teeth. He curses against my mouth, but he
moves faster, pounding into me with wild abandon. My head hits
against the car door, but I don't care. The pain only adds to the
intensity of this moment, and pleasure surges through my veins.