The Devil's Playground (16 page)

“Will you quit with the mind games already?” I snapped. I wanted to try to sit up, but I had a feeling I’d end up flinging myself into his arms if I did. Besides, silk sheets are kind of slippery, and it might be hard to keep this one over my naughty bits if I sat up.

He laughed again, the sound peppering my skin with goose bumps. “Is that what you think this is?” he asked, sounding terribly amused. The bed shifted under him again, and suddenly I felt the touch of bare skin against my hip.

Cool, sophisticated grown woman that I am, I let out a little yip of surprise and jerked away. My eyes popped open, and I tried to sit up while clutching the sheet to my chest.

Lugh was lying on his side beside me on the bed, under the crimson silk sheet. Well,
some
of him was under the sheet. If he so much as twitched—or if I pulled on the sheet any harder to keep my boobs covered—I’d be unveiling something I didn’t want to see. Or at least, something I didn’t
want
to want to see.

Lugh’s head was propped on his hand, his hair draping his chest and shoulders like a shiny black cape, his
sensual mouth lifted at the corners in a subtle smile. His skin was golden over his well-defined but not-too-bulky muscles.

I couldn’t imagine a single thing he could have done to make himself look sexier. It just wasn’t fair!

Lugh patted the bed beside him with his free hand. “No need to move on my account,” he said, his voice a bass grumble that made my toes curl. I’ve always had a thing for men with really deep voices. But of course, Lugh knew that—had known that from the very beginning when he’d first spoken to me in my dreams.

“Knock it off!” I said, but my own voice sounded breathy. I wasn’t convincing
myself
, much less Lugh.

Lugh sat up. The silk sheet probably slid down, but I didn’t get to see, because before I could even begin to guess what he was up to, he had grabbed me and rolled me under him. The movement should have sent us off the side of the bed, but I guess that wasn’t how Lugh wanted it to work, so it didn’t.

I put both hands on his chest in a fruitless effort to shove him off me, but I doubt I’d have been able to do it in real life, much less in a dream that he controlled.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I snarled at him. He’d been pushy with me before, but never anything like this. I punctuated my question by banging my fist on his chest, which had zero chance of hurting him.

To my shock, Lugh sat up a little—just enough to grab my wrists, gather them both together in one of his large hands, and pin them over my head. I was too
surprised to struggle. My mouth gaped open, and my heart suddenly hammered from what felt like my throat.

Lugh’s head lowered toward mine, and I realized he meant to kiss me. I quickly turned my head away.

“Haven’t you ever heard that no means no?” I demanded. I couldn’t figure out what I was feeling right at that moment. I should have felt helpless, and scared, and maybe even betrayed. He could control this dream, effortlessly destroy my every defense, do whatever he wanted to me. And even though it was a dream, anything he did to me, I would feel. I might lust after him in theory, and might have let him take certain, er, liberties in the past. But I didn’t want to have sex with him, despite the temptation he offered.

So why couldn’t I help noticing how good his body felt against mine, how warm, how strong? And why couldn’t I help noticing his unique, spicy, musky scent? When his lips feathered over my cheek, it was all I could do to keep my face turned away.

What the hell was the matter with me?

Lugh’s breath was a flush of warmth as his kisses trailed over my face down to my jawbone, then up to my ear, which he nipped very gently. “What’s wrong with you is that you trust me,” he whispered in my ear.

His words were startling enough that I turned my head toward him after all. He pulled back enough for our eyes to meet comfortably, though he didn’t get off me or release my wrists.

I swallowed hard, part of me trying not to believe what he’d just said. Trusting was something I sucked at.
I didn’t trust
anyone
, not deep down inside. I was always on the lookout, afraid of wounding words or actions, braced to defend myself. I’d known that about myself for a long time, and although I didn’t like it, it was just the way I was. I’d made progress at trusting Brian. But I’d had no idea I’d made this much progress at trusting Lugh.

And yet, I did.

Whatever he was up to at the moment, I knew with unnerving certainty that he wasn’t going to rape me, wasn’t going to hurt me, despite the evidence of naked skin on naked skin, or his dominant position, or his hold on my wrists.

“You bastard,” I said, but it came out in a whisper.

He smiled softly and stroked a finger down the cheek he had kissed. “Telling you things never seems to work. Showing works better.”

“If you had real balls, I’d be putting my knee in them right now,” I informed him. He had positioned himself in such a way as to give me a clear shot, but how do you hurt a dream?

He planted a chaste kiss on my forehead, then let go of my wrists and rolled off me. The sheet went with him, and I gave a little squeak of alarm as I grabbed for it. But suddenly, I was wearing a pair of silk pajamas in a midnight blue that looked almost black against the crimson sheets.

I sat up slowly, keeping a wary eye on Lugh. He’d put pajamas on me, but as far as I could tell, he was still naked himself, the sheet draping across his hips artfully. I tried not to imagine what lay beneath that sheet.

His head was propped on his hand again, and his smile was sin and temptation rolled together. “You don’t have to imagine,” he murmured. “All you have to do is give the sheet a little tug.”

Lugh had been trying to seduce me from the moment we first “met,” and he’d never been subtle about it. But as aggressive as he’d been at times, he’d never been like
this
before. The strangeness of it helped me fight off some of the temptation.

“What’s gotten into you tonight?” I asked, keeping my eyes firmly focused on his face. “And what was with the silent treatment?” I couldn’t have said exactly why, but I was sure now he’d been silent of his own accord, that it hadn’t been my subconscious blocking him out after all.

“Brian wants you to get rid of me,” he said. “I wanted to remind you what you’d be missing if you did—just in case the idea started to sound appealing to you.”

Anger, hot and sweet, swelled in my chest, and my hands curled into white-knuckled fists. I was so furious, I couldn’t even speak.

He’d put me through all that anxiety and discomfort just to prove a point. A point he could have made just fine by letting me know he was still there, even if he refused to talk to me.

“It wouldn’t have been the same,” he said. “If you’d known for sure I’d be back, the silence wouldn’t have bothered you. But if I take a different host, then I won’t be back.”

My eyes prickled and burned with angry tears—tears I absolutely refused to shed. Lugh, who knew exactly
what I was thinking and feeling, regarded me with an expression of mild regret.

“I’m sorry I distressed you,” he said. “But, as I said before,
telling
you things rarely works. You needed to see that you would miss me if I were gone.”

I knew it wouldn’t hurt him, but I couldn’t stop myself from hauling back and slapping him across his smug face. My palm stung and burned from the blow, but Lugh didn’t even wince. Of course not. The cheek I had slapped wasn’t real. The hand I’d slapped him with wasn’t real either, but Lugh could make it feel real.

I cradled my hand against my chest. Something warm and wet trickled down my cheek, and I realized one of the tears I’d been desperately trying to suppress had escaped.

Lugh sat up, and even in the midst of my anger and hurt, I couldn’t help glancing at his body. The sheet slid down and away, baring one leg all the way up to the hip, but a corner of the sheet still draped over his groin, kind of like a fig leaf on a statue.

My temptation to look made me even more furious, and I hurled myself to the other side of the bed, meaning to get out and run. Not that I’d be able to go anywhere, but it’s the thought that counts, right?

Lugh didn’t let me get that far. His hand fastened on my ankle, and he yanked me back onto the bed. I tried to grab for a bedpost, but even if I’d succeeded, Lugh was way too strong for me. Instead, I ended up sprawled facedown on the bed. When I tried to get up again, Lugh covered me with that big, strong body of his, pinning
me in place. The hot, hard length of him nestled between my buttocks, and I realized I’d lost the pajamas again.

“Get off me!” I yelled, struggling helplessly.

He brought his mouth down to my ear, his tongue darting in for a taste before he spoke.

“You don’t want to get rid of me,” he whispered. “You like me. You
want
me, even if you won’t let yourself act on that want.” He wiggled his hips against my butt to emphasize his point, and my body betrayed me with a pleasurable shiver.

I could have argued with him, but really, what was the point? I could only
feel
my feelings; Lugh could
understand
them. My own personal, highly invasive therapist.

Tears continued to drip from my eyes, soaking into the silk pillowcase. But I stopped struggling.

“You didn’t have to do this,” I said, my voice a tear-strained whisper. “I told Brian no.”

Lugh brushed his lips against the side of my neck. “I know. But not for the right reasons.” His tongue trailed a path across my shoulders, and I had to bite my lip to keep from groaning.

I was in love with Brian. I shouldn’t want Lugh so badly!

“I fulfill different needs than Brian does,” Lugh whispered against my skin. His hair tickled my sides, but I didn’t have the slightest urge to laugh. “You can want me and love Brian at the same time.”

I couldn’t talk—my throat was too tight—so I settled for shaking my head violently. The evidence that Lugh
was right was overwhelming, and yet I refused to believe it. I was a firm believer in monogamy, and, damn it, I wasn’t about to change my mind!

But Lugh wasn’t finished talking. “Just as I can want Brian and love
you
at the same time.”

His words took the last of the fight out of me, shocking me into immobility. I lay still and passive beneath him, painfully aware of every minute point of contact between us, of the heat of his body, of the dominance of his position, and of my utter lack of discomfort with that dominance. And I tried to convince myself he hadn’t said what I thought he’d just said.

“You heard me,” Lugh said, then started trailing kisses down my spine. The farther down those kisses trailed, the more freedom of movement I had. And yet, I didn’t move.

Could it really be true? Could Lugh really love me? I’d always interpreted his interest as casual lust, but maybe that’s what I’d wanted to see.

The kisses began to travel upward again, his skin stroking sensually against mine as he moved. God, he felt good!

His cock slid into the valley between my buttocks once more as his mouth returned to my ear, and against my will, I found myself arching into him. Desire clouded my mind, and I wondered if it would really be such a bad thing if I were to let Lugh make love to me. It was, after all, just a dream.

“No,” Lugh whispered in my ear. “You’re not ready to let me make love to you yet. You would regret it afterward, and that I cannot allow.”

The truth of his words pierced the cloud of lust, and though my body was still all for a boisterous roll in the hay, my mind recognized it as the mistake it would be.

“So all of this has been one big tease,” I managed to say. I guessed demons didn’t suffer from blue balls–especially not when their host didn’t actually
have
balls—but I was pretty sure I was about to experience the female equivalent.

Lugh’s weight shifted above me. “Would I do that to you?” he asked, then turned me over onto my back.

He was smiling down at me, his amber eyes glowing faintly with a demon light, his hair forming a dark curtain around our faces. My breath came in shallow pants, and my mouth was dry with desire. Lugh had gotten me off before with some very naughty visual aids, and I wondered what he had in mind this time.

The fire in his eyes glowed more brightly. “No props this time,” he said, his voice husky. “Just me.”

He lowered his head slowly, giving me time to turn my face away again if I wished. But I didn’t. I couldn’t. I wanted his kiss too badly. Our relationship wasn’t exactly what I would call chaste, but for all the sexual energy that surrounded us, we’d rarely kissed. I didn’t have it in me to regret that that was about to change.

His lips touched mine, and it was like my body went up in flames. A decidedly unchaste moan escaped me, and I wrapped my arms around him, my hands buried in that gorgeous, silky hair. His lips were soft and warm, but there was nothing soft about his kiss. If he’d kissed me any harder, it would have hurt. His tongue thrust
into my mouth, and I moaned again, loving the taste and feel of him.

I think I could have kissed him forever, forgetting the outside world existed, but he used his knee to nudge my legs apart, then settled in between them. My pajamas had reappeared, but Lugh was still nude, that thin layer of silk all that separated my flesh from his. He pressed himself hard against me, and my hips bucked against my will.

I desperately wanted to rip off the pajamas, to feel him inside me, but I kept my hands buried in his hair to resist the temptation as his hips began to move, his cock stroking me hard over the thin pajamas. It shouldn’t have felt so amazing, not to a mature woman who was used to having sex with her boyfriend on a regular basis. But feeling him thrusting against me, his cock hitting my clit just right with each stroke, had me on the verge of orgasm in no time.

I arched up against him, wanting to take that next step into bliss, but he slowed his pace and lightened his strokes, tormenting me, playing with me, making me ache for release. I tried to hurry him along, but he would have none of it. And when I released his hair, meaning to hurry
myself
along since he wasn’t cooperating, I soon found my hands pinned above my head again. I’d have complained, but it was hard to talk with his tongue halfway down my throat.