His Wicked Games: A Billionaire Romance (The Cunningham Family #1)

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 jum
ps 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.

  I thought my last climax was a big one, but it's nothing compared to the ecstasy that suddenly explodes through my flesh. I shake with the force of that violent wave, lost to everything but the pleasure coursing between us, wild as the storm outside.

  Calder curses again and gives a hard, deep thrust. His body goes rigid on top of mine, and then he shudders as release pours through him as well. After a moment he leans back and slides my legs off of his shoulders, and then he lowers himself gently on top of me. I can feel the galloping of his heart against my own, and I wrap my arms around his shoulders.

  It’s too easy, like this, to forget how much I hate him. To forget that I’m supposed to be in control of myself and my emotions and this situation. To forget why I came here, and why I stormed out to the car in the first place.

  But I don’t care. I don’t care about anything but the warmth of his breath against my ear and the softness of his skin against my own.

  Here, right now, that’s enough.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN