Toxic Game Read online Christine Feehan (GhostWalkers #15)

Categories Genre: Fantasy/Sci-fi, Paranormal, Romance, Suspense Tags Authors: Series: GhostWalkers Series by Christine Feehan
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Total pages in book: 153
Estimated words: 140965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 705(@200wpm)___ 564(@250wpm)___ 470(@300wpm)
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Draden’s hand trailed down her body again, starting just between her breasts, ignoring her tight, hard nipples, just missing them so she felt a rush of heat as the edge of his hands passed them. She couldn’t help the involuntary thrust upward as she arched her back in an effort to capture the warmth and friction of his skin. It didn’t work, and that only added to the need building like a force of nature inside her.

His thumb slid over her, flicked her clit and then slipped into her. Her entire body tightened. Every muscle. She tried to grip him. Hold him to her. He was already gone, leisurely lifting the cake to show it to her. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it, sweetheart? Blue peonies to match our tea set.”

Setting the cake back on the little table, he didn’t bother cutting it. Instead, he just took a forkful and held it to her mouth. “Tell me if it’s as good as it looks. You have to have a bite or it’s bad luck.” The fork nudged her lips.

She opened her mouth and let him slide the cake inside. The frosting was delicious, but very sweet. The vanilla in the cake offset the sweetness. She couldn’t help licking her lips to get every last bit of the blue peonies. “It’s perfect.” Her voice shocked her. She’s never heard herself sound like that, breathless and needy and so sexy her body reacted to her tone. She sounded like she was enticing him.

He took a bite of cake and nodded. “Very good. Sweet, baby, like you. He took a finger full of the frosting and began painting her mound, and then her lips and clit. Every stroke was designed to drive her out of her mind, and it did. She was panting by the time he smeared it along her inner thighs.

“See how great silk is?” he murmured as he set the cake aside and slowly wedged his shoulders and body between her spread legs. He lifted her bottom and dragged several pillows to place beneath her. His tongue lapped at the streak of sweetness on the inside of her left thigh. She was damp, producing hot liquid, a fiery reaction to his slow, deliberate stimulation. “If we weren’t using it, you wouldn’t behave yourself and keep your legs spread apart for me.” His tongue took the streak of blue peonies on the inside of her right thigh. “Using the silk means you can more easily do what I ask. Isn’t that right, baby?”

He paused when she didn’t respond, lifting his head, although his hands were busy, sliding up and down her thighs, getting closer and closer to where she needed them, but not quite making it.

“Did you want an answer?” Each word was gasped out. Surely, he didn’t expect her to talk to him while he tortured her?

“Yes, I think I do.” He lowered his head, but his eyes were on her face as he flicked at the buttercream on her clit.

Each lash of his tongue sent a fiery spear through her body so that she jumped, and her sex clenched hotly. More hot liquid spilled to mix with the frosting. Draden lapped it up, taking his time, ignoring her squirming. Her hips bucked in desperation.

“You’re killing me.”

“I’m making you feel good.”

He was doing that too. But maybe she was going to die before she actually got to the best part. It was entirely possible, she was that far gone. He reached for the champagne. “All that sweetness makes me thirsty. What about you? No?” Gripping the neck of the bottle with his fist, he tipped it up and drank directly from it.

Again, he took his time, looking down at her while she strained toward him. He poured a small amount of the champagne into her belly button. It ran down her belly and his lips and tongue chased after it. Then he took a mouthful and very casually, before she could think what he was doing, lifted her hips higher and using his tongue as a funnel, let the champagne trickle into her. Bubbles burst everywhere. She gasped and heard her own ragged, breathless plea. She was close, so close. She just needed him to take her over the edge. He lapped at the champagne, all the while flicking her clit and then suckling until she wanted to scream her demands at him.

He laughed softly and tipped the bottle to his mouth again. He stretched up to put his mouth over her left nipple. The cold champagne was shocking, along with the contrast of his mouth suckling so strongly. His fingers rolled and tugged on her right nipple, a little harder than before, sending fiery arrows straight to her clenching sheath.

“Feels good, doesn’t it, sweetheart?” he murmured, kissing his way down her belly back to between her legs.



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