Wicked Games (22 page)

As she dropped the jacket to stand naked before him, he gave her the smile that he knew aroused her, dark and sharp, with just a hint of fang. “God, I want a bite of you.”

“And you'll get it, but not just yet.” As she brushed her thumb across his lower lip in a slow caress, Gwen's wicked smile faded to something more serious. “You don't have to play a role for me today. You don't need your scary King Arthur mask. You don't have to flash your fangs.”

He had to grin at that. She did know him so well. “But I
like
my scary King Arthur mask. And so do you.”

She smiled then. “Well, yes. But you don't need it just now.” Her fingers brushed over him, exploring the contours of his abdomen and ribs. For a moment he thought she'd take hold of his cock, but instead her fingers slid upward to brush over a pointed male nipple.

“Tease.”

“You enjoy my teasing.” She smiled at him, all wicked wanton. “Don't you?”

“God, yes, wench.” She was running her fingers back and forth across his nipple until it was all he could do not to moan. Having her touch him like this, without his having to do anything except feel . . . It was so deliciously sweet. So exactly what he needed.

Gwen caught his hand and drew him toward the water lying still and dark in the center of the cave. Together, they waded into the water. It was deliciously cool, and it felt good to his battered body.

She smiled over her shoulder at him, a teasing flash of teeth as she led him deeper. The bottom dropped out from under their feet, and they both began to swim across the dark water.

Arthur picked up a flash of desire from her, a wicked little impulse. Obliging her, he paused to tread water as she ducked beneath the surface. Pale limbs flashed underwater as she swam around him, fingers brushing his body, effortlessly arousing. He treaded water, letting her tease him with delicate little touches to his arms, his back, his broad thighs.

And his cock.

Just the barest stroke, a whisper of it along his rising shaft. Delicately arousing. Gwen had always known how to drive him mad. He sensed what she intended an instant before she did it. Still submerged, she engulfed his cock for a quick suckle that made him jolt. She backed away, only to close long, tapered fingers around his balls, stroking the delicate sac and sensitive skin. Building his heat.

Then his cock was in her mouth again as she floated, treating him to the sensation of wet tongue and smooth throat working around the width of his shaft. He groaned, wrestling with the instinct to grab her head and drag her closer, tighter.
If I'm not careful, I'll drown her
.

She had to be using some kind of spell to stay under so long, he realized with what little brainpower he had left. He watched her graceful back, the bare curves of her lush arse and long, strong legs as she floated, licking and sucking.

The sight of her, combined with those vividly erotic sensations, aroused him beyond bearing. He vibrated on the verge of climax, fists clenched, head thrown back, fighting his lust.

Finally she broke away and surfaced, flashing him a little devil's grin before she turned and stroked rapidly for the other side. Arthur rumbled in feral male interest and swam after her, determined to give her a little taste of the same medicine. His feet hit the shallow end of the pool a heartbeat after hers, and he threw himself into a hungry lunge.

His snatching hand just missed as Gwen levitated out of the pool. Water streamed down her pale, glorious body as she floated in midair, giving him a taunting grin. His eyes narrowed, and he growled, preparing to spring up and grab her, but she waved an admonishing finger.

“Naughty,” she chided. “Patience, King Fang. You'll get what you want in a moment—when I decide to give it to you.”

He gave her a hot, menacing grin. “Of course, my queen. I would be delighted to wait upon your whim.” His tone—not to mention the Truebond—told her just how far from submissive he really felt.

She lifted a delicate blond brow at him. “Would you like to be in chains again?”

His answering grin was downright feral. “I'd rather put you in chains. You look so good in them.”

Gwen gave him a wicked smirk. “I could say the same of you, my king.”

Arthur's grin broadened as he let himself imagine all the delicious things he could do to a Gwen spread-eagle and bound. Judging by the sudden bloom of heat in her smile, he'd scored a direct hit. He laughed wickedly. “You like the idea as much as I do.”

“Unfortunately,” she purred in a tone he suspected she'd learned directly from him, “I have other plans.” She gestured at the waterfall pattering into the pool a short distance away. Her gaze softened. “Please, Arthur. You need this, and I need to give it to you.”

“I've never been able to refuse you a damn thing,” he grumbled and stalked over to the waterfall, knowing what she wanted and where she wanted him. Turning, he found her holding a jar of soap she hadn't held a moment before. She must have conjured it, judging by the flick of magic he could still feel in the Truebond.

Arthur watched her pour the soap into her palm as she stepped closer to stroke soapy fingers across his chest.

“You are so beautiful, my warrior,” she told him softly. “You wear the blood and sweat of battle the way another king wears royal robes.”

If anyone else had said it, he would have dismissed it as blatant flattery. But the Truebond told him Guinevere meant every word.

“Of course I mean it.” She sounded a little offended that he'd think anything else. Despite her irritation, she went back to caressing him, her elegant hands stroking slow circles over his skin.

His cock stood every bit as high and hard as Excalibur driven into that stone.

Gwen rewarded his erection with a teasing brush of her fingers along the balls and up the shaft. And then, with a tiny, evil little smile, she started washing him again. Every time he was on the verge of losing control and grabbing her, she gave him a light push under the waterfall, which had the effect of cooling his considerable lust just enough so he didn't pounce on her like a wolf on a lamb.

Arthur could've withstood that kind of teasing when he was a mortal man. Now that he had a Magus's appetites, he was even less capable of patience. Especially with his balls drawn tight under his shaft and his cock pointing more up than down, despite its length and weight.

But just before he lost control completely, she shoved him under the waterfall, dropped to her knees, and took his long, hard shaft in hand. He caught his breath as she swooped down over it and engulfed it in the heat of her mouth.

There was something about kneeling at Arthur Pendragon's feet with his cock in her mouth that never failed to make Gwen's lust rise. Despite the cool water sheeting down over her head as she licked and suckled him, she could feel herself growing deliciously wet.

God, it felt so good. He felt so good. She stroked both hands up and down the length of his brawny thighs, cupped the weight of his balls in one hand, running the other along his shaft in a tight practiced grip. And all the while she worshiped him, swirling her tongue over the elegant mushroom head of his cock, angling the big shaft upward so she could nibble down its length from the sensitive rim and along the snaking veins to the balls. Sucking each in turn into her mouth, she gave them both swirling licks that wrung a deep groan from him. As powerful as he was, for all his Magus strength and feral intelligence, she loved that her mouth had the power to make him quiver like a horse run hard.

“Speaking of horses, you'd better mount me soon,” he told her, his voice a growling rumble. “I don't know how much longer I can last.”

In the Truebond, she replied, “
You underestimate yourself, my king. I'll make you rise again.
” She kissed him, lips pressing hot against his. “
And again
.” Another slow, burning kiss. “
And again.
”

Dropping to her knees, Gwen engulfed him again in one long breathless sucking swoop, taking him in almost to the balls. The tight grip of her fist on his shaft pumped once, twice, three times.

And he roared, flooding her mouth with salty jets of come. Swallowing, she felt him shudder against her body. His knees buckled, but he caught himself and straightened again.

“God,” he groaned, “you're good at that.”

She leaned over and bit one of the twitching muscles of his thigh. His knees almost buckled again, and she smiled. “I'm glad you approve.”

“Oh, I more than approve.” He bent, hooked an arm under her arse, and lifted her, straightening with effortless strength. Giving her a toothy Magus smile, he purred, “I mean to fuck you blind.”

“Oh.” She blinked at him, at those white fangs so very close, and felt her mouth go dry.

He laughed, and turned with her to shove her back against the cave wall behind them so that the waterfall tumbled over their heads again. His mouth fed on hers, a hot, delicious contrast to the water, and she moaned against his lips.

The stone behind her felt cool, worn smooth from uncounted years of pounding spray, and she shivered a little. Not that she was cold, not with Arthur pressed between her thighs, muscular and hot and kissing her like a demon, all dark seduction.

His velvet lips brushed and teased as his tongue swirled around hers, so sweet, so familiar, but with a deliciously alien edge provided by his fangs. One hand supported her rump as the other roamed her body, stroking breasts and belly and arse with wicked skill, pausing to squeeze and tug a nipple or caress the line of her throat in a dark I'm-going-to-bite-you promise.

As he toyed with her, cream flooded her sex, joining the slickness that had only increased since she'd started undressing him.

Lifting her with that abrupt, overwhelming Magus strength, he sucked one nipple into his mouth. The sensation of wet heat, the taunting swirls of his skilled tongue—all those gorgeous carnal pleasures were almost enough to make her come.

Almost.

What Gwen really needed was his cock. She could feel its smooth head brushing her pussy when he moved, so painfully erect it stood straight up, as if begging him to impale her. “Fuck me, Arthur.” She let her head fall back against the stone wall. The waterfall cascaded onto her face, and she gasped into the spray. It didn't help a bit. “Please. I need it.”

He lifted his head from her hard nipple to give her a Satanic grin. “No.”

“If you want me to beg . . .”

“Please do.” The grin broadened.

“Wretched man.”

He closed his teeth over her nipple in a ridiculously arousing bite. “Well, it makes me so hard when you beg.”

“Surely that's redundant at this point.”

“True. I'd still love to hear you do it.”

“Fine.” She met his hot gaze. “Please, Arthur Pendragon. I need your cock. I need to feel you driving to the balls in my tight, slick pussy. I need your mouth on my tits. I need your fangs in my throat, drinking my blood. I need . . .”
Your forgiveness.

She hadn't meant to say it. Not out loud, not even in the Truebond. Yet still the words hung there, seeming to glow with their intensity.

Your forgiveness
.

The wicked humor banished from his eyes.
“You have it.”

Her eyes widened as the impact of those words hit her like a longbow arrow thunking into her heart. He meant it.

“Of course I mean it
.
”
Arthur sounded slightly impatient in the Truebond, as if he was stating something she should damn well know.
“What kind of idiot throws love away?”

Someone who doesn't believe it was love at all.

“Gwen, we've been married seventeen years,” he told her roughly. “I don't need the Truebond to know how you feel.” He flashed that white fanged grin at her, anticipation lighting his dark eyes. “I sure as hell know how
I
feel . . .”

And he picked her up and drove her down on his cock, impaling her in a thick, hot rush. The sensation of being stuffed with him almost made her eyes cross. It also felt incredibly arousing, so deliciously pleasurable, she writhed helplessly in his powerful arms.

He rolled his hips as he tightened his strong grip on her arse, forcing her downward onto his shaft as he simultaneously thrust upward.

Gwen gasped, relishing his deep, grinding strokes, throwing her head back, enjoying the waterfall's cool patter striking her face.

A big hand tangled in her hair. Arthur's burning eyes met hers as his hunger blazed at her in the Truebond, as intense as the sensation of the cock probing her.

Dragging her head back, arching her neck, her husband sank his fangs into her throat.

Gwen groaned in pleasure at the heat of his velvet mouth, the sharp sensation of his teeth slicing her skin. He began to drink as his hips rolled and his hands lifted her up and down, grinding her onto his cock.

The hot pleasure of cock and fangs felt overwhelming and delicious as pounding sensation sent her flying.

“Jesu, Arthur,” Gwen whispered. “It feels so good.”

“
Then let me make it better,
” Arthur said in the Truebond. And dropped every last psychic barrier he had.

The pleasure she felt became a ferocious storm of delight as Arthur's sensations piled onto her own. Gwen screamed, the sound rough with raw lust. Though the king's lips were sealed over her throat, his satisfied growl rumbled against her skin.

He'd been blocking the link so long, she'd almost forgotten the shattering power of a shared orgasm. It was so much more intense than any climax she'd ever had—a blinding sensory storm.

But the real impact hit when their blended orgasm at last began to fade. Gwen became aware of Arthur's mind. Not just his surface thoughts, but the deeper emotions and worries he'd been blocking for weeks. Carefully, he slid his fangs from her skin with a final satisfied lick. And faced her, drawing her close.