His Wicked Games (His Wicked Games #1) (22 page)

I reach up and run a lone finger down his
body, starting at his throat and ending at the base of his hard
length.

“We're not properly fucking if you never let
me on top,” I say as I wrap my fingers around him.

He laughs, but it’s a rough, hungry
sound.

“A valid point.”

He steps away from me, and I revel at the
sense of power I feel as I watch him settle obediently in one of
the balcony’s chairs.

I take a deep breath. I'll admit it: I prefer
when he's in control, when I'm at the mercy of his hands and mouth
and cock. But there's something deep inside me that needs to do
this, that needs to control him for a moment.

I move slowly toward him, and when I’m
standing in front of his chair, I reach out and place my hands on
his broad shoulders. His muscles flex slightly beneath my touch. I
step forward, straddling him with one leg on either side of the
chair, and then I run my fingers down his arms, over his smooth hot
skin. I can feel him watching me intently, even though I can hardly
see his face in the dark. I can hear his heavy breathing over the
rain.

I move one hand to his chest and slide it
down his stomach, echoing my touch of a moment ago. When I reach
the base of his cock, I find him still rock-hard and ready. For all
his initial hesitation, he still seems pretty excited to let me
take the reins. I curl my fingers around him and slide my hand
gently down his length. He's still slick from being inside me.

“Maybe I should torture you a little,” I say,
taking my time as I slide my hand up his length again. “Maybe I
should give you a taste of your own medicine.”

He moans, and his hands fly up and grab me by
the hips.

“You're already torturing me,” he says, his
voice tight.

I smile. It's incredibly arousing to be the
one in charge for once. I love watching him crumble beneath my
touch. I lower myself a little more on his lap, so I'm nearly
sitting on his upper thighs.

“Not nearly enough.” I slide myself forward
so that he can feel my slickness against his legs, so that my
tenderest spot rubs up against the base of him. He groans and
tightens his grip on my hips, urging me with his hands.

“I'm in charge here,” I remind him. “We're
doing this at my speed.”

He lets out a long, shaky breath, and I know
it's taking all of his self-control to keep from throwing me down
and having his way with me.

I lean forward and brush my lips along his
neck. Once, twice, three times. He sucks in a breath, but that's
not enough. I move up to his ear, and then I run my tongue along
its curved edge. He squirms a little beneath me, and his fingers
tighten on me yet again. Finally I slip my tongue into the ear
itself and swirl it around.

Calder lets out a groan.

“Enough,” he rasps. “Lily, please.” He
squirms beneath me.

I'm tempted to give him what he wants, but
I'm not done playing just yet.

I stop my gentle strokes and grip him by the
shoulders once more. I raise myself slightly, shifting until I'm
poised directly over his waiting cock. He moves, trying to drive
into me, but I twist away and shake my head.

“We're doing this at my pace,” I tell him,
parroting back his own words from earlier. This time, when I
position myself, he sits still, though I can tell by his low,
throaty growl exactly what he thinks of my teasing.

I lower myself slowly, until only the tip of
him is inside of me. His shoulders are stiff beneath my hands, and
I know he must be going crazy with self-restraint. Good. Let him
suffer a little for all those times he's had me under his control.
I lower myself a little more, and this time he leans forward to
claim my neck. He nips at my throat, urging me onward as I continue
my slow descent.

By the time he's all the way inside of me,
his breath is ragged, and I know there are teeth marks all over my
skin. His skin is blazing hot beneath my hands, and his body is
slick with warm sweat, even in this drizzle. From the stiffness in
his body, I suspect he's only barely contained. Truth be told, I'm
having a little trouble controlling myself.

“How do you like it?” I whisper into his ear.
“How does it feel to be at my mercy, for once?” I rise again, just
as slowly, and when Calder doesn't answer me immediately, I know
he's struggling. I lean forward and give his ear a playful
bite.

“You're cruel,” he says finally. “You're the
cruelest, most infuriating woman I've ever met.” One of his hands
moves to my neck, and he pulls me down into a kiss. I let him. I
suck his bottom lip into my mouth and bear down with my teeth, just
a little, just enough to make him moan again. He pulls away once
more and begins tracing a path of kisses along my jawline.

“You're also the wildest,” he says between
kisses. “And the sexiest. And the most utterly intoxicating…”

His words make the blood rush beneath my
skin. I don't know how much longer I can hold back. I begin to
lower myself again slowly, but every touch of Calder's fingers and
lips makes it that much more difficult to maintain this measured
pace.

“Fuck, Lily,” he says. “You're killing me.”
This time he thrusts upward, burying himself in me before I have
the chance to stop him.

And that’s it.

I begin to move against him, hard and fast,
and he moans and echoes my movements, rising to meet me with his
body. My fingers dig in his shoulders, and I throw my head back,
letting the rain fall down on my face as I ride him like I've never
ridden a man before. Every jerk of my body wrings a grunt from his
throat, and I'm matching his sounds of pleasure with cries of my
own. I feel like a wild woman, a crazed, sexual being who only
wants one thing and will do anything to get it.

We grind against each other until I know
nothing but the heat and friction and pleasure. There's just me and
his hands and his cock and his hot mouth moving across my exposed
throat. He bites down on the tender flesh, and I cry out and move
faster against him.

My inner walls are starting to contract.
Calder seems to notice, because he groans and thrusts more
violently against me. I'm close to climaxing again but I want him
to explode first.

The next time he thrusts, I stop moving.
Instead, I squeeze the muscles between my legs, tightening myself
around him.

He growls.

I squeeze them again, and again, and the
third time he gives another quick thrust before going rigid.
Feeling him come beneath me sends me over the edge myself, and I
cry out as I join him on the rippling waves of orgasm.

When the pleasure ends, I collapse against
him.

“Well,” Calder murmurs in my ear after a
moment. His voice is rough. “I think I’m going to like this ‘just
fucking’ arrangement very much.”

I know that I was the one who brought it up
in the first place, but something twists a little in my stomach at
his words. I'm not sure what's going on with me right now, but
every sexual encounter with this man only seems to leave me more
confused. At first, I clung to my hatred and told myself that my
lust was only an unfortunate complication of the situation. But the
more I indulge my desires with Calder, the more I find myself drawn
to the man himself. I’ve caught glimpses of his own pain and
frustration, and every time he holds me close like this and
whispers sweet things in my ear, I find myself wishing I knew more
of him. There’s a softness to him, but it’s hidden behind some
emotions that I can’t even begin to decipher.

But even though I’m starting to recognize my
own feelings, I know they’re wrong. This man is responsible for the
Center’s financial troubles. It doesn’t matter what’s happened
between us this weekend—I can’t forgive him for that.

I close my eyes and rest my forehead on his
shoulder. I don’t even try to respond to his last statement. I know
I’ll never find the words.

Instead, I try to focus on the cold of the
rain on my back and try to ignore the cold that's taken root in my
belly.

<<>>

By the time I wake up the next morning, the
rain has stopped. Somehow we managed to stumble back to the bed
after our romp on the balcony, but my hair is still wet, making me
shiver as I climb out of the sheets. I grab my shirt and pull it
over my head as I go to inspect the sliver of sunlight coming in
around the curtain. I push the thick fabric aside and peer out
through the window. Sure enough, the sky is clear. I can even hear
birds singing.

I turn back toward the bed. Calder is still
asleep, looking deliciously rumpled in the early light. The covers
have fallen back, revealing his naked torso, and my mind floods
with a dozen wicked ways I might wake him.

But then I remember how we left things last
night, how he’d agreed that we were “just fucking.” I'm still not
sure why I'm suddenly having this twisted emotional reaction to
him, but one thing's for certain: touching him again is a bad idea.
I've indulged myself enough. I've had my little sexual fantasy
weekend, and now it's time to return to the real world.

I grab my clothes from the floor and pull
them on as quietly as possible. I manage to sneak all the way to
the door before Calder stirs.

“Lily?” he says, still half asleep.

I'm tempted to make a run for it, but Calder
seems to realize what's going on right as my fingers touch the
handle.

“Where are you going?” He sits up and eyes me
warily. “Are you leaving?”

I try not to notice the sexy way that lock of
dark hair falls across his forehead.

“It's stopped raining,” I say.

“So?” He blinks and rubs some of the sleep
from his eyes.

“The road should be clear,” I remind him. “I
need to get back. They need me at the Center.”

I watch comprehension sink in on his
face.

“It's stopped raining,” he says quickly, “but
the road won't be clear yet. I bet it'll be another day before the
water goes down enough for you to get through.”

This knowledge hits me like a punch to the
stomach. I hadn't even considered that possibility.

“I know it's a pain in the ass,” he says,
climbing out of bed. “But I can think of several fun ways we might
pass the time.” One look at his naked body as he stands up makes
his meaning quite clear. I quickly glance away.

“I'm not—I don't think that's the best idea.
We've had some fun, but let's be realistic about this whole
situation. Spending a couple of days holed up pretending the rest
of the world doesn't exist is fine, but at some point we have to
wake up and start living like normal people again.”

I can feel his eyes boring into me, but I
refuse to look up.

“Very well,” he says after a moment. “If
that's what you want.” I can't tell from his tone whether he's
angry or disappointed or even if he cares at all. He turns and
walks casually over to the closet, disappearing inside without
another word.

I'm not sure what to do. Am I dismissed?
Should I go back to my room? I need to call my dad again and let
him know I'll be here yet another night. I hope he hasn't buried
himself under an insane pile of work. I hope Garrett isn't causing
him any trouble.

I've just decided to leave when Calder steps
out of the closet, a towel around his waist. For all that he's
covered now, the image still doesn't leave much to the imagination.
I force myself to look him in the eye.

“I was thinking,” he says, “that we might
take advantage of the sun and have a look around the gardens. You
seemed interested in them the other day.”

My gut reaction is to say no, but honestly,
what else am I going to do around here all day? Hiding out in my
room won't solve anything. In fact, sitting around with nothing to
do would leave me too much time to obsessively dissect these
jumbled emotions I’m experiencing. Distracting myself with a giant
hedge maze sounds a lot more pleasant, even if it means interacting
with the object of my turmoil.

“All right,” I agree.

Calder smiles, and my stomach flutters.

“Care to join me for a shower first?” he
says.

God, would I ever.
But I shake my
head. No more fooling around. I’m only going to end up hurt.

The disappointment that flashes across his
face is only satisfying for the briefest of moments.

“I prefer to shower on my own,” I say, but it
sounds like an excuse, even to me. “I’ll just meet you after.”

He nods, once, then disappears into his
bathroom without another word. Part of me is tempted to follow him,
to strip off my clothes and surprise him, but I push the thought
aside. I need to control myself.

I turn and leave the room quickly, before my
resolve has the chance to waver.

* * *

An hour later, freshly showered and clothed
in another lovely dress from Louisa's closet, I meet Calder on the
lawn. I called my dad while I was getting dressed, and though he
sounded as tired and flustered as ever, he was thrilled with the
work Garrett’s done since I called him. He told me that Garrett was
at the Center all day yesterday, and that he’d already managed to
elicit enough donations to get us through the month. He said he had
every faith that my loathsome ex was exactly what we needed to turn
things around. I didn't tell my dad about all the calls and
messages. I didn't want to spoil his mood. I haven't heard him this
excited and hopeful in months.

Garrett himself called me again this morning,
but I let it go straight to voicemail. I'm shocked he hasn't gotten
the hint by now, but that's Garrett for you. He's determined, I'll
give him that much.

I leave my phone on my bed. Garrett can
disappear with the rest of my real-world problems. This morning is
about the gardens.

And
damn
, are these some gardens.