His Wicked Games (His Wicked Games #1) (19 page)

I can’t take it anymore. I spit out the gag
and twist my head, capturing his ear in my teeth before he has the
chance to move away. I suck the lobe into my mouth, returning the
bite he gave me earlier.

Now it's his turn to fight down a growl of
pleasure. He tries to push me away from him again, but I only clamp
down harder. The hand that doesn't hold my wrists reaches around
and grabs my ass, half lifting me even as he grinds against me once
more.

Suddenly he yanks me down onto his length so
hard and so fast that my teeth break the skin of his ear. This time
he doesn't manage to stifle the sound that rises in his throat, but
he doesn't seem to care anymore. For a moment we both freeze,
locked around each other, while the metallic tang of his blood
fills my mouth and my other opening throbs around the fullness of
his cock. I slowly loosen my jaw and lean my head back against the
wall, reveling in the mind-numbing sensations pulsating from my
core.

And then he begins to move.

No longer with tortuous slowness, thank God,
but with steady, eager strokes. He thrusts into me, over and over
again, while I rock against him as much as our position allows.

His fingers dig into the underside of my
thigh as he lifts my leg, allowing for deeper access. I strain
against the belt around my wrists, against the hand that still
keeps them pinned against the wall. I want to tear at his hair. I
want to suck on his lips and tongue. I want to dig my nails into
his back and leave new scratches next to the marks from this
afternoon. But I can't move. I'm completely at his power, subject
to his lust.

It's the thrill of that thought that sends me
completely over the edge. My entire body convulses, and it's only
his strong arms around me that keep me from collapsing at his feet
as the orgasm sweeps through my flesh. My teeth clamp down on my
bottom lip as I struggle to keep from crying out.

Calder keeps moving, even when I fall limply
against him. I turn my face and close my teeth around a bit of skin
at his neck, nipping at him as I squeeze the muscles between my
legs once more, tightening myself around him.

He lets out an unrestrained grunt, nearly
dropping me as he shudders in release. I pull my teeth away from
his skin and slide my leg off his hip, only just managing to regain
my feet before he slumps forward against me and the wall.

For a moment, neither of us stirs. His mouth
is against my ear, his warm breath stirring my hair. I'm warm from
the inside out, and while a part of me never wants to move, the
other, more practical side of me remembers we're standing in a
cold, empty room in his basement.

I shift from beneath him and reach down to
collect my jeans, remembering too late that my wrists are still
bound. I strain against the belt, trying to twist myself free, but
in the end Calder has to untie me himself.

It's too dark to see much, but I feel his
eyes on me all the same as I fumble again for my pants. My wrists
are throbbing from their confinement, but I don’t let that on to
him. There are a dozen feelings rushing through me right now, and
I'm not sure which ones to acknowledge. Part of me is still giddy
from passion, while the other half can't allow me to forget about
why we ended up like this in the first place—I lost. Once more
Calder won our bet, and there's little chance he'll give me yet
another opportunity to win the money for the Center. I'm back where
I started.

Calder seems far less confused by all of
this.

“There's no need to put your clothes back
on,” he says.

I yank up my zipper, angry at the hungry way
my body responds to his words, even now.

“You've had your prize,” I respond.

“We agreed you'd be mine for the night,” he
says, his voice low and husky. “And I'm afraid, Ms. Frazer, we're
just getting started.”

He reaches out and brushes a finger down my
arm. I shiver at the contact and curse myself again for falling so
easily for his charms.

This is ridiculous. I'm supposed to hate this
man. I
do
hate this man. He's poised to destroy everything I
love.

So how is it that, time and again, he can say
a simple word, or touch me just so, and make me forget everything
but the way the blood is rushing through my veins? I'm a modern,
sensible woman. I’ve allowed myself to be swayed by a man
before—with Garrett—and I’m not going to let that happen again. So
why am I having such trouble now? Why do I still feel like throwing
myself in his arms and letting him take me again?

If I'd managed a moment longer in our game,
things would be different. If I'd secured the money for the Center,
then I could fall into his embrace without this guilt weighing down
on my shoulders. Instead, it feels like every surge of pleasure I
feel, every sigh he draws from my lips, is a betrayal of the Center
and my dad and everything we've ever worked for.

It's all the fault of my fucking phone.

I jam my hand into my pocket and whip out my
cell, determined to see who cost me everything. I want to cry foul,
to call for a rematch, but even if I thought Calder would oblige
me, I know it's too late. I didn't fight him when he pressed me up
against the wall and had his way with me. I as good as accepted
defeat.

I pull up my missed calls list. The blue
light of the screen seems unnaturally bright now, but I don't even
blink as I gaze down at the name.

Surprise, surprise. “Dipshit” continues to
ruin my life. I
knew
asking him to help would come back to
bite me in the ass.

“Lily?” Calder reaches out and touches me
again, this time along my exposed collarbone. “Is something
wrong?”

Only that my ex is insane and won't leave
me alone
. I shouldn't have asked Garrett for a favor. I should
have listened to my gut. But desperation makes people do crazy
things.

“Everything's fine,” I say, sliding the phone
back into my pocket. I'll deal with Garrett later.

“It doesn't seem fine,” Calder says. If I
didn't know any better, I'd almost say there was genuine concern in
his voice.

“It's nothing you should worry about.” I
reach down again and grapple about in the darkness for my tank top.
“I don't know about you, but I'm freezing down here. I hope you
don't intend to keep me here all night.”

Calder sighs behind me. I hear the rustle of
fabric as he grabs his own pants from the ground and pulls them
back on.

“I suppose it's about time we moved this
party to an actual bed.” If he's offended by my sudden coldness, he
doesn't sound it. “There are a few things I'd like yet to show
you.”

The promise in his voice stirs something in
my belly, but I push the feeling away. I can't afford to keep
giving into these sensations. I already feel like I'm going
mad.

Calder's hand brushes my shoulder in the
darkness, then slides down my spine to settle on my lower back.

“Come on,” he says, his tone like warm honey.
“Let's head upstairs. I'll have Martin bring us something in my
bedroom.”

I want to refuse him. I
should
refuse
him. But I've lost this argument with myself so many times already,
and I'm still too weak to win it.

Besides
, I tell myself,
I've
already lost the Center. What happens now doesn't matter
. I
have nothing more to lose, so why not give in to the urges that
seem to have taken control of my body?

When Calder leans over and slips his tongue
in my ear, I know I'm lost. I follow him from the dark room without
hesitation, giving myself willingly to the night ahead.

<<>>

An hour later, I lie naked in Calder's
bed.

Calder himself stands next to a cart of food
that Martin brought up a little while ago. I can't decide where to
look: at the gorgeous plates of food he’s revealing one by one or
the equally gorgeous vision of his well-muscled body. In this
light, his tanned skin is a pale bronze, and his hair looks even
darker—almost black. The shadows play across his pecs and abs in a
way that highlights every groove, every firm round edge of muscle
beneath his taut skin. I finally have the chance to notice the
dusting of hair on his chest, and the way his waist narrows from
his broad shoulders into a perfect V. By my estimation, he's the
perfect specimen of a man—why no one's tried to carve a copy of
this one out of marble yet, I can't guess.

“Like what you see?”

I glance up to find Calder smiling at me with
amusement. I sit up quickly on the bed, embarrassed to be caught
staring.

“I'm only eager for the food,” I say, but I
know he knows better, even if the heat on my cheeks doesn't give me
away.

Calder sets down the dish he's holding and
walks over to the bed.

“There's nothing to be embarrassed about,” he
says. His fingers slip beneath my hair and he tilts my head back to
look at him. Our eyes lock, and he holds my gaze as his thumb
drifts up and down the column of my throat.

“There's nothing wrong with looking,” he
tells me. “I've spent the better part of these past few days
looking at you.”

I feel like I should say something, but I
can't find the words.

“You're beautiful, Lily. A goddess. Does it
bother you that I want to admire your body?”

Not at all, truth be told. But I've never had
a guy come out and ask me a question like that so bluntly
before.

“It doesn't bother me,” I manage.

The corner of Calder's mouth twists up, but
it's no longer amusement that marks his features—rather something
ravenous and wicked. He lowers me gently onto my back on the bed
and drags the comforter away from my body.

His eyes dance over my skin, starting with my
neck and moving all the way down to my toes. His gaze is so intense
that I swear I can almost feel the heat of that smolder on my skin.
There's a trail of tingling nerves down the length of my body, and
he hasn't even touched me yet.

When he does touch me, just above the
collarbone, it's like my flesh jumps to meet him. Still, I remain
perfectly motionless as his finger brushes back and forth.

“At first,” he says softly, “I thought your
neck was the loveliest part of your body.” His mouth curls lazily.
“It was back at that fundraiser you threw for your organization.
You wore this black gown, and your hair was up. I remember thinking
how long and graceful your neck looked.”

I must make a face because his eyebrow quirks
up.

“What? Don't believe me?”

“You remember what I wore to Arts &
Hearts?”

“Of course.”

“But you looked so bored.”

He laughs. “I’d just stepped off a flight
from Rome. I was fighting a jetlag headache from hell. Anyway,” he
says, tracing my lower lip with his fingers, “how could I be bored
when I got to watch you all night?”

I want to believe him, but I have a feeling
he’s just feeding me a line.

“Even if you’re telling the truth about
that,” I say. “I don’t believe for a minute that you were checking
out my neck, of all things. Men don’t think that way. The first
things men notice are your breasts or your ass, depending on which
way you're facing.”

He chuckles and runs his fingers across the
curve of my shoulder.

“I'm not going to dispute what other men may
or may not admire first. But I remember you very clearly, Ms.
Frazer. As I said, you were wearing a black gown. Your neck and
shoulders were completely bare. No jewelry or anything.” He reaches
up and weaves his hand in my hair. “Your hair was up, but one
tendril managed to escape and fall along here.” He twists a section
of my hair around his finger and lays it against the column of my
neck.

My heart is fluttering in my chest. I reach
up and grab the section of hair from his hand and toss it back in
with the rest. The passionate, dominant Calder I can handle—the one
who leaves bruises on my skin and shoves my shirt into my mouth to
keep me silent—but I don't know how to deal with this gentler
version of him. Yes, I wore a black gown to the Arts & Hearts
fundraiser. I'd meant to wear a strand of pearls, but in the rush
of preparations I'd forgotten to put them on. I'd done my hair
myself, and I'm not surprised to hear that a tendril escaped, but I
am
surprised that he noticed. That he remembers, even
now.

“Why didn’t you say anything then?”

“I promised my father I’d behave myself,” he
replies, “and I was afraid your man-friend would start a fight if I
stole you away.”

My man-friend?
Oh, of course—I was
still with Garrett at the time. I’m glad Calder had the sense to
stay away. As controlling as my ex was at the end, he would
definitely have caused a scene if he thought another man was coming
on to me.

“Is he the one who’s been calling you?”
Calder says, reading into my silence.

“It’s long over, if that’s what you’re
wondering,” I assure him. “But I don’t want to talk about him. I
want you to continue explaining how you didn’t notice my
breasts.”

He laughs.

“I'll admit,” he continues, drawing his
finger down my body, “that I noticed your breasts, too.” To
emphasize his point, he curls a hand around one of my breasts,
filling his palm. “So soft, so round, so perfect…” He brushes his
thumb across the tender skin of my areola. “With such delicate pink
nipples…”

I suck in a breath as he rolls my nipple
between his fingers. He gives me another one of his grins and then
continues down my body. His hands move down across my skin slowly,
delicately, as if I'm a precious, breakable thing that might
shatter at his touch. He traces each of my ribs in turn, as if has
all the time in the world to explore my body, not just this night
I’ve promised him.