Ross 03 Leave Me Breathless (3 page)

Somewhere in the steady stream of alcohol the waitress—God bless her—kept bringing Macy, she found Ghost’s hand back on her upper thigh. She might have even grabbed it and put it there herself. Who knew? All she cared about was that his palm was big and warm and possessive, and she liked it being on her skin. But damn if she was going to let him get between her legs—

Oh. Crap. He was going there. And she was letting him. The heat coming from her sex wouldn’t allow for anything less. She squirmed in her seat, the tiny motion making her skirt ride up more. His fingertips followed, feathering higher up her leg. He was almost to the edge of her panties, which had gone incredibly damp since—

“Are you all right, Macy? You look a little flushed.”

Just as Macy began to nod quickly, Ghost swigged his beer and jerked his head in her direction. “She looks that way because I have my hand up her skirt.”

He did not just say that. She went ramrod straight and snapped her legs closed as everyone at the table laughed. Candace said, “Oh, you wish.”

All Macy had succeeded in doing was trapping his hand between her thighs.

His thumb stroked across her skin, coaxing her to open to him again. She wanted to. But if he was only going to embarrass her in front of everyone…

She gave the back of his wrist a little warning smack. Beside her, his lip quirked, and he gave her a
see what I did there?
wink.

For the hundredth time, she thought about how she should stop this. She should. But his fingers curled into her flesh and pulled her leg against the side of his and dammit, she didn’t stop him, couldn’t stop him. Once he had a little room to work with, he slid his hand up, bunching her skirt again.

She killed her drink and ordered another. His pinky finger grazed the silk of her panties, silk he’d find wet and little barrier to the throbbing flesh beneath. Thankfully, the waitress plunked her refreshed drink in front of her, so she had something to hold on to instead of clenching her fists on the tabletop. With the side of his finger, he was drawing tantalizing circles around her aching clit through the damp fabric.

The conversation still went on among her friends. Ghost even took part, laughing and wisecracking while her freaking toes curled and she resisted the urge to…
bite
him. Or grab his head and kiss him wildly. Or fling herself back in the booth and have a heaving orgasm. Or at least help him pull her panties aside so he could sink his fingers into her.

But she knew he couldn’t. Crammed together in the booth, he didn’t have the range of mobility for such a feat without giving them away. She couldn’t let him make her come or—

“I think you should slow down,” Candace said, and it took a moment for Macy to realize she was talking to her.

“What?” she asked, cursing the husky breathlessness of her own voice.

Candace chuckled. “Don’t you think you’ve had enough?” Enough…no, not nearly enough. Her gaze alighted on her empty drink. Shit. She meant alcohol. How many had she had, trying to squelch the heat and keep her hands busy so she didn’t yank Ghost on top of her right in front of everyone?

“Damn, Mace, you do look shitfaced,” Brian observed.

Her brain took stock of her situation. She was breathing erratically and half leaning on Ghost. A trickle of sweat tickled at her hairline. Her lips felt swollen and…numb, and she swept her tongue across them. Not that her friends could tell, but her nipples were hard as pebbles and rasping against the cups of her bra. “I—I need some air.” She turned pleading eyes on her accomplice beside her. His fingers disappeared from between her legs, and it was all she could do not to go after his hand. Return it to where it belonged. She wasn’t drunk; she was in the wildest sexual heat she could remember since…oh, hell. Since the last time he had her this hot.

“I got her,” Ghost said, sliding from the booth and helping her across after him. She tried to fix her skirt and could only hope she did a passable job as she stood up beside him. For a moment, she feared her shaking knees wouldn’t support her, and she leaned against him as the only stable thing in her world.

“Are you all right?” Sam asked, sounded genuinely concerned as she reclaimed her seat. Michael scooted around to sit beside her now that there was free space.

“She’s straight,” Ghost said. “We’ll go outside for a few.”

“Take care of her,” Candace called after them as he led her away from the safety of their booth.

“Oh, I intend to,” he said, for Macy’s ears only.

The rush of cold air outside snapped her out of her lust-and alcohol-infused funk. Somewhat. She was still aware of the slippery pool of need he’d inspired between her legs. That heat wasn’t dissipating any time soon, at least not due to any external climate change.

Macy expected to stop outside the door so she could catch her breath, but Ghost kept a hand on her arm and steered her into the parking lot.

“Where are we going?”

“I’m parked out here. Thank
God
I brought my car.” The last few words were muttered under his breath. He still hadn’t answered her question, but her mind hadn’t stopped functioning so much that she couldn’t figure out the answer.

Ghost drove a shiny black ’69 GTO convertible he’d restored to mint condition. Her heart rate tripled when it came into view. She hadn’t been in that car since—

He wasted no time unlocking the door and ushering her into the backseat…
oh, the backseat
.

And then the door closed and they were alone and it was dark and he was in her arms, his mouth hot on her neck.

“I can’t do this here,” she managed to pant. But her traitorous body made no move to shove him off. She only pulled him closer, shoving off his cap—yes, still shaved—and absorbing his body heat.

“Just like you couldn’t before? Just like you couldn’t let me get under your skirt in there?”

“I should have stopped you.”

“Mmm. But you didn’t. And you’re not going to now, are you?”

It was the million-dollar question, and she couldn’t think about it right now while he was nibbling her earlobe, his big body pressing her down into the seat. She had to spread her legs to accommodate him in the cramped space. Her skirt bunched around her hips again, leaving only her panties as a barrier. One thrust of his groin against her throbbing clit would probably have her coming. Despite her protests, she needed this orgasm like she needed the next beat of her heart.

“We have a penchant for backseats, don’t we? What’s it gonna take for me to get you in a bed?” She couldn’t answer him, and she didn’t think he expected her to. His mouth trailed a hot path down to her breast; she could feel the gust of his breath through her T-shirt. He didn’t spend time there, though his hand came up to knead her as he continued his journey downward. She stiffened when he lifted the hem of her shirt and licked a circle around her belly button.

“Fuck, Macy.” His tongue darted into the indentation. “You smell so fucking sweet. You were perfuming up the place in there. I couldn’t wait to get you alone.”

Heat roared in her cheeks until it almost matched that being generated below. She turned her face into the back of the seat, the upholstery cold against her dewy forehead.

She shouldn’t be doing this. She didn’t
do
this. Not again. But she was deluding herself if she thought she wanted it to end.

Satisfied with his exploration of her belly button, he pushed the denim of her skirt up farther, and his fingers slipped into the waistband of her panties. She whimpered as he pulled them down, knowing she was bared to him now, though she still refused to look at him. He folded her knees to her chest to divest her of her panties.

“Aw, I did get you primed, didn’t I?” His fingertips slid though her swollen, slippery folds, sending an electric jolt through her. She arched against his touch, trying to get those fingers on her clit where she needed them. So gently she wanted to scream, he breached her, only stoking her need as he slid deep and swirled. Her mouth opened in a silent moan. Her nails bit crescents into her spread thighs so that she didn’t grab his head and shove it down to the maelstrom of fiery desperation he’d created between her legs.

“Look at me.” With his free hand he moved one of her thighs to his shoulder and then stroked it from knee to hip, exerting just enough pressure with his short fingernails to leave tingling trails in their wake. The soothing caress gave her the courage to turn her face to him.

Once she obeyed his request, she couldn’t look anywhere else. There was just enough light filtering in to cast his face half in shadow and put a wicked glint in his eyes.

“You want me here?” he asked. Her internal muscles gripped his slowly thrusting finger.

She sighed as he slid in another, cried out as he pushed them deep and brushed her clit with his thumb. “Yes! Soon.” It was all she could think about. He squeezed a third finger in, and it effectively stilled all her restless movements. “Oh…God.” She held motionless, whimpering, as he worked his fingers deeper.

“Christ,” he whispered. “You feel good. I can’t wait to fuck you.”

“Why don’t you?”

“I will, baby. Long and hard and deep, just like you need it.” To punctuate his words, he dragged his fingers out to their tips, teased her and thrust them back in. “But not in the car this time.”

She moaned, grinding her hips on his hand. Dammit, they’d done it before. “Why not?”

“We just can’t. Not here. Not the way I want to do it, we can’t.”

Everything she’d been thinking in the club, everything she’d been thinking for the past few months without him, was effectively negated with everything she was feeling right now. “I
need
it. Please, I need it so much…”

With a curse, he shifted and dropped lower. How he was folding himself down to get on her level, she didn’t know, nor did she care. A burst of his breath tickled across her mound, then his thumb was gone, replaced by something warmer and far, far wetter—

“Oh God, yes!” she cried. It inflamed him. His free hand grasped her thigh and yanked it wider, an animalistic sound tearing from his throat. She grabbed whatever she could to anchor herself to the earth as he licked devastating patterns over her clit, hooking his thrusting fingers to find the spot on her upper wall that had her hips wrenching off the seat. Suddenly she couldn’t open wide enough, couldn’t get close enough. Her staccato whimpers dissolved into one long unending plea.

His mouth covered her clit, and he sucked, wrapping his arm across her stomach and holding her steady as she convulsed against him. The incredible tension she’d been carrying around for so long inside her broke in waves and waves of ecstasy. She didn’t care if anyone outside heard her keening cry, or his answering groan that vibrated against her pussy. Her thigh muscles locked, she shuddered, she writhed, she fell back on the seat and contemplated passing out as he wrung the last vestiges of her orgasm from her.

Gently, he relinquished his suction on her, giving her several long, slow licks to bring her down. His fingers pulled out, and he lowered his kisses to her opening, tasting the remnants of her pleasure.

Macy wanted to stretch and purr like a cat. She couldn’t stop undulating against him, and dismay set in as she realized she wasn’t done yet. He’d only taken the edge off. She needed more. Needed him inside her, filling her.

He lifted his head, and she grimaced at the emptiness he left behind. Little aftershocks skittered under her skin, making her shiver. But he was trying to get up, and she had to move to let him. She backed into the corner of the seat, and he slid onto his, blowing out a breath and rolling his head on his shoulders.

His expression was unreadable, but the firm set of his jawline hinted at the same level of pressure that had been holding her captive until he set her free. He unzipped and stripped out of his hooded sweatshirt, but he wasn’t moving to unfasten his pants—didn’t he expect to get his after giving her hers? Apparently not. She didn’t know what to say or do, so she leaned down and began the slightly mortifying task of trying to locate her panties on the floor.

“Missing these?” he asked, and she glanced up to see the scrap of silk dangling from his index finger.

“Um, yeah.” When she tugged them, he hooked his finger, a slight smile turning up one corner of his mouth. Macy giggled when he didn’t give them up without a brief tug-of-war, but finally she claimed them.

He’d made her feel so good. It had been exactly what she needed.

“You know, I don’t have to put these back on yet.” She reached between his legs and ran her hand over the bulging ridge in his jeans. He had to be hurting. It looked like pain that crossed his face when she touched him.

But he seriously must not have meant to go any further. He caught her wrist and pulled her until she was straddling him. His hand smoothed down the outside of her right thigh. “Thank you for wearing a skirt tonight. From the bottom of my heart, thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Macy shivered as his fingers’ journey back up her leg took them under the hem. He must’ve thought she was cold; he grabbed his discarded hoodie and wrapped it around her shoulders. She pushed her arms through the sleeves, inhaling deeply as his scent engulfed her.

“Now that that’s out of the way, talk to me. What have you been doing since I left?”