Night Game (GhostWalkers #3)(70)
Author: Christine Feehan

He glanced down into the bag. “What else is in here?”

“Don’t look. Whatever you do, don’t look in there.” Her voice was strangled.

He pulled the shopping bag wider and withdrew a small paddle covered in fake leopard skin. Flame groaned, her color deepening. He pulled a wireless strand of three small vibrating eggs with a little remote and some furred handcuffs. She covered her face. “My, my. Looks like we’re in for a long night of fun and games, cher.”

“What was your grandmother thinking?”

“She was thinking she needed to move us along in our relationship. She wants action obviously.” He held out the garment. “Put it on.”

“Look at it. I can’t put that on, it’s crotchless.”

He smirked at her. “I know. She chose it because it has no straps and you can easily get into it.”

“You’re such a perv.”

“Put it on for me, cher.” One hand went to the front of his jeans. Her gaze followed as he stroked unselfconsciously, a soft groan of excitement escaping.

Flame stood motionless looking at the impossible scrap of leather and mesh and the man holding it out to her. Stark desire was so intense, so raw, it deepened the color of his dark eyes to almost midnight black. She shook her head, knowing she was going to give in to him, knowing all that mattered to her in that moment was pleasing him.

She took the outfit and retired to the bathroom, refusing to struggle into it one-handed in front of him. If he looked into the bag he was going to find the whipped cream and the oils and the scented candles. And she knew he was going to look into the bag. Why that excited her, she had no idea, but maybe being a pervert was contagious. She mulled it over while she dressed, or rather undressed. There was no doubt that she was getting even more turned on at the idea of his reaction to seeing her in the very revealing and risqué outfit.

“You coming out anytime soon, or do I have to come in and get you?”

Flame looked at the little pile of clothing, the over sized plaid shirt, the black thong, the leather sheath and harness for her knife and she took a deep breath. Once she stepped out that door there was no turning back.

“Cher.” He sounded impatient, sexy, hoarse with need. “The suspense is killing me. You want me to come to you?”

Flame opened the door and sauntered out, pretending be confident and casual and that a million men had seen her with nothing on but leather and mesh. The leather part of the bustier pushed up under her br**sts into the black mesh that ended just under her ni**les, so at she was completely exposed. The mesh was open around her belly button and crotch and bu**ocks, but clung to her waist and ribs.

The room was dark other than the glow of several candles. She was grateful for that, particularly when she saw that Raoul was completely naked. He was very well endowed. She couldn’t help staring. There were a couple of things she should have mentioned to him before she ever put on leather and mesh, but now, when she had his undivided attention, she was afraid it was too late. He stood beside the bed, the silly sex toys laid out on the end table as if he intended using every one. Her heart accelerated at the sight and she knew he could hear it because he held out his hand to her.

Gator moistened suddenly dry lips. “Mon Dieu. You have a beautiful body.” He made a small circle with his fingers.

She forced herself to turn around slowly for him, showing off the outfit and the bare body beneath it. With him watching, her ni**les hardened into tight peaks and her br**sts ached for attention. She watched as he circled the rigid length of his shaft with his fist as he said some thing in French she wished she understood.

“Come here.” His body shook with wanting her. He had been with other women, but he had never felt like this. He’d never needed like this. In that moment, when she’d emerged from the bathroom looking so damned sexy in her outfit, the realization that he’d been isolated for so long came to him. She was sunshine. Laughter. Fine wine and silk sheets or beer in the bayou with the setting sun. She was secrets and sex and his very own warrior. She was his equal. She was everything he could want standing right in front of him.

She could hardly breathe, but Flame wasn’t a woman to back down once she’d made up her mind. He was looking at her, his face etched with desire and his body as starkly aroused as it could be, holding out his hand to her and she took it, allowing him to draw her close.

Careful of her broken arm, Gator bunched her hair in his hand and, tilting her head, caught her soft sigh in his mouth. The hard peaks of her ni**les pressed tightly into his chest as her body melted into his. His tongue tangled with hers, hot and moist until a river of need burst free in him. He wanted her so much he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think straight. Her skin was incredibly soft against his and her throaty little moans nearly drove him mad.

He kissed her over and over, rough with desire, until she was pressing her body against his, rubbing her soft belly against his arousal. The mesh brushed against his ultrasensitive groin until he was afraid he might explode. His mouth left hers to trail down her throat, nibbling along her neck until he found the creamy mounds spilling out of her costume. He thumbed her ni**les, watching her eyes darken with desire.

She cried out when his mouth closed over her nipple, suckling hard while his fingers tugged at her other breast through the mesh. She arched her body into his, wanting more of him. His hand slid down between her legs, to cover her dampness and she jerked in his arms, her need nearly as strong as his own. He took his time, lavishing attention on her br**sts, rubbing the mesh over her skin with his chin, teasing her belly button with his tongue, all the while, moving her backward to the bed.

When the edge of the bed hit the back of her knees, he lowered her, his mouth once more on hers, hard and insistent, refusing to allow her a moment to think. She had taken him to the very edge of his control and they’d only gotten started. She kissed him back, every bit as hungry as he was, but her eyes contained a hint of fear. She moaned in his arms, her body moving naturally against his, yet her touch was unsure.

“You want me.” His lips left hers and returned to her br**sts, his teeth and tongue teasing, mouth suckling, pulling strongly, hands tugging and massaging. He loved the animalistic sounds coming from her throat. He looked at her body, flushed with desire, br**sts swollen and ni**les hard peaks, her breathing as ragged as his. Beneath his wandering hand her stomach muscles contracted and her h*ps moved restlessly. “But I want more from you, Flame. I want you crying for me. I want you needing me the way I do you. I need more.”