Night Game (37 page)

“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 any one. She never risked wanting anything 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 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 tippling 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 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.