Leave Me Breathless

by Cherrie Lynn

  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?”

  “Nothing.” She snuggled down onto his chest.

  “No other guy’s been in the picture?”

  She grinned into his neck at the surliness that entered his tone at that question. “Jealous?”

  “Not when I was the one with my mouth on your pussy two minutes ago, no.”

  Macy didn’t know if she’d ever get used to the way he talked to her. If it had been anyone else, she’d have been appalled, but with him…she loved it. Part of it was knowing he didn’t give a damn what anyone thought, not even her. She would love to be that way. It just wasn’t in her nature.

  “You seem different,” he said.

  Now that gave her pause and a little surge of unease. She leaned back to look at him. “How so?”

  He trailed a finger down her cheek. His gaze held hers, seeing way too much. “Are you sad?”

  “I—” What did she say to that? In a scant few minutes, he’d pinpointed something she’d been hiding from everyone for months. Something her best friends hadn’t even picked up on…any more than usual, at least. But she couldn’t confirm his suspicions. He might think it had something to do with him. “No.”

  That too-knowing gaze narrowed. “Then are you always a mopey drunk? Because that would suck.”

  She scoffed. “I’m not drunk. Not that drunk. And I don’t know why you think I’m…mopey.”

  He shrugged. “Well, let’s recap. I seem to remember us hooking up in this very backseat in the parking lot of Dermamania. I remember us talking almost until the sun came up, laughing our asses off at stupid shit. You amazed me with how funny you were. I wasn’t expecting that. The ‘killjoy’ thing was a private joke because we both knew I saw a different side of you than anyone else. And then suddenly, you pulled a disappearing act. Then I had to cut out of town. From what I’ve seen of you tonight, I wonder if you’ve laughed much since then.”

  As he spoke, she’d busied herself by absently tracing the collar of his T-shirt, not meeting his eyes. “You know what’s crazy? Despite all that, I don’t even know your real name.”

  He sighed at her diversion. “Seth.”

  “Seth,” she echoed, needing to feel it on her tongue. “That’s nice. Why didn’t you ever tell me before?”

  He suddenly became very interested in picking at something invisible on her shirt. “You never asked.”

  Her bottom lip trembled. Great, so he thought she was a stuck-up bitch on top of a depressed drunk. “But I did wonder. What’s your last name?”

  “Warren. Why?” He smirked. “Gonna run a background check on me? Need my date of birth too?”

  His question gave her a split second of panic. She really didn’t know much about this guy. Her brain ran through its usual gamut of worst-case scenario. Does he have a record? Is it bad? What if he’s done time or something? Some of those tattoos look kind of suspect—

  He sat back, exasperated. “Jesus, Macy. No, I’m not a convicted felon.”

  “I wasn’t thinking—”

  He put a hand pensively to his chin. “Except for that one bank robbery that went terribly awry…”

  “Quit making fun of me.”

  “Hey, it’s cool. I didn’t mean anything. You okay?”

  She only nodded. Considering how tiny her voice had just sounded, it would be nonexistent now, so she didn’t even try to use it. He must have noticed her distress, because he reached up and rubbed her shoulder.

  Macy couldn’t help it; her eyes closed, and she knew he didn’t miss her intake of breath. All at once, she wished she could feel the warmth of his skin on hers. She’d been denied it even before. Bare flesh to bare flesh…his hard, hot and intricately marked, hers soft and yielding and…

  The images swirling through her mind had her temperature rising again. He smelled unbelievably good. Something darkly sweet and almost lemony. She didn’t want to talk; she just wanted to bury her face in his neck and breathe him in, knowing he tasted as delicious as he smelled.

  “So what’s the story?” he asked.

  The question pulled her back to reality hard and fast, and the truth came tumbling from her mouth before her brain gave it permission. “I don’t belong.”

  She didn’t have to see his reaction. His surprise was palpable. “Don’t belong where?”

  “Here. With you. With…them.” She lifted her head and nodded in the direction of the club.

  “Says who?”

  “Me.”

  “Well, then…what are you doing here?” Genuine curiosity laced the words.

  She shrugged.

  “So…what? Are you thinking about turning your back on everyone, just going your own way?”

  “No, I don’t want that. At all.”

  “Look,” he said, “I don’t know what happened to you to make you go from the cool, confident woman who always made me feel a million times better when we hung out to the wad of misery I’m seeing right now, but it can’t be that bad. Let it go. That’s my philosophy: learn to not give a fuck, at least about petty shit. Life will be much simpler.”

  Her eyes burned as she looked at him. She rarely cried, and when she did, it
damn sure wasn’t in front of guys she hardly knew. “I’m glad I made you feel better.”

  “Well, now I’m trying to return the favor. So talk to me.”

  “I just can’t relate to them anymore. Ever since Candace and Brian got together… I mean, I’m happy for her, all right? Don’t get me wrong. But things are different, and I guess I don’t take change well. Like, at all.”

  “I hear you. It was the same around the parlor before I left. We like her, but sometimes it’s a pain in the ass knowing the boss’s girlfriend is hovering around. So you’re not alone. We’ve all had to adjust.”

  “But she’s been my best friend since we were kids.”

  “Yeah, and Brian and I have been tight for a long time too. I think you’re letting it get to you too much.”

  “We just seem so distant now. And hard as I try, I can’t be…one of you.”

  “Okay… Macy, what exactly are we?”

  She scoffed at him. “Come on. Look at me, and look at you, and then tell me the difference. I’m not implying anything bad. I’m only saying… The things you guys are into just aren’t for me, and vice versa, and that’s the way it is.”

  “I honestly think any distance between you and your friends is a figment of your imagination, or was put there by you, because you’re so hung up on all this ‘us and them’ stuff. You should, you know…lighten up a little, killjoy. That’s all.”

  Macy couldn’t help but smile at his playful ribbing. “I try to. It just never works out and we always end up arguing. We were on the verge before you guys showed up.”

  “There’s no reason you can’t simply live and let live, you know.”

  “I know. It just sometimes makes me think I’m not interesting enough for… Never mind.” She snapped her mouth closed. Alcohol had loosened her tongue enough tonight. Here she was spilling her guts to a guy who was extremely adept at scrambling her brain, not to mention other parts of her anatomy. Their conversation had done little to mitigate the need still pooled between her thighs—his voice only exacerbated it.

  “Not interesting? What the hell are you talking about?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe I am drunk.”

  “Naw, you’ve been pretty damn coherent, so don’t cop out now.”

  Her mind was going in a hundred weird directions, and she decided to follow one of them to see where it would lead. “I tried to talk Candace out of getting with Brian in the first place. I could’ve caused her to miss out on her happiness. What if she had listened to me?”

  “She didn’t. So it’s a moot point.”

  “But sometimes I feel like I’m talking myself out of happiness too. I can’t seem to make myself…shut up.”

  She caught the flash of his white teeth even in the dimness. “Do you need someone to shut you up?”

  “Honestly? I really think I do.”

  “I might be useful in that capacity.” His voice positively dripped with suggestion. There was no question what he meant. His big hands rested casually on her thighs now, and oh, how she wanted to feel them move up higher. She couldn’t deny this thing between them. She’d never been able to.

  The excitement she needed in her life, the spice she was craving, was sitting underneath her. Something to get her through this slump, or whatever it was. A bridge across the gap to where her friends stood waiting for her to catch up. She didn’t want to get left in the dust—she loved them too much.

  Mere inches separated their lips, and she knew he could feel her breath gusting against his mouth. She felt his. Still slow and easy, it tickled her lips. He hadn’t kissed her on the mouth since they’d slid in the car. He’d never kissed her, even before, a fact that had kept her awake at night. But that encounter had been like this one: sudden, rushed, scalding hot. Now, she craved more of a connection, needed it so much it eclipsed everything else.

  Gently, she took his face in her hands, looking over him. Outside the car, someone shouted and a few vague, colorful shapes moved past the fogged back windshield toward the club, but she didn’t worry anyone could see them.

  She closed her eyes. Leaned toward him. Covered his mouth with hers.

  A shudder went through him, and his hands—finally, at last—moved up her thighs. His lips were as delectable as they looked, and he let her tease them apart so she could lick her way inside and taste him. A whimper escaped her; his fingers dented her flesh. His tongue slid past her teeth, flickering against hers in a sinuous dance that had her moving shamelessly on his lap. Sliding her hand behind his neck, she pulled him closer, needing more, fantasizing about what else he could do with his tongue, what he’d just done to her. A groan slipped from her throat.

  Macy wanted to weep with relief when his hands moved around to her ass. Surely he would touch her again in all the places her body was going wild. Instead, he let her go, then gently cupped her face until her clinging lips were forced to relinquish their claim on his. She gazed at him reproachfully.

  “Damn, girl,” he breathed. He sounded as ragged as she felt. “I think I can handle ‘mopey drunk’ if you’re also ‘incredibly horny drunk’.”

  She tried to lean toward him again, but he evaded her, and she resisted the urge to pout at him. “What are you doing?”

  “What are you doing?” he returned, his voice a low, sexy murmur that went straight to all the neediest parts of her body and resonated.

  “Isn’t it obvious?”

  His answering chuckle was dark. “With you? Babe, nothing with you is obvious. Tomorrow, are you gonna just pretend tonight never happened, like you did before?”

  “What does it… I didn’t really think you…”

  “Didn’t think I cared? Thought I was only after the score?”

  It had crossed her mind. Her guilt-ridden mind. It had helped her sleep at night, that was, after she’d tortured herself over the fact he hadn’t kissed her.

  Her cheeks burned, and she was glad he couldn’t see her well enough to detect the color that must be raging in her face. Even now, she didn’t like to think about how she’d lost control of herself with him. She was in serious danger of doing it again.

  “I know you can’t forget it,” he went on. “I remember how many times you came. I felt it each time, how tight you squeezed me and how wet you were. I remember your breathing in my ear, your begging, your nails clawing my back.”

  His words and the way his dark eyes held hers, frightening and feral, were quickly turning mortification into something far hotter. He couldn’t leave her like this, so unfulfilled. Judging from the thick ridge in his pants, which she’d been brazenly rubbing against, she wasn’t the only frustrated one.

  Fine. He won.

  “Go home with me?” she asked softly.

  Seth’s eyes closed, and his head met the back of the seat. She wanted to attack his throat with her lips. She settled for tracing a fingernail down the line of one of the tattoos peeking above the neckline of his shirt. “I told Brian I’d help out at the parlor so he could have the night off with Candace. That’s why I hardly drank anything tonight. I need to get over there.”

  “Brian won’t…?”

  “Let me off the hook to get laid while they work their asses off? I wouldn’t ask.” He raised his head to look at her. “I imagine you’ll be passed out by the time I’m done.”

  His mouth was back in close proximity to hers—too close. She brushed it with her own. Gave his bottom lip a tiny lick.

  “Fuck,” he said in a whispered rush, though he still didn’t move. “Macy…you’re gonna get me fired before I even get started back.” He captured her lips with his, once, twice, again. She ached and throbbed and pressed as close as she physically could. His hand disappeared under her shirt, sliding along her bare skin until his fingers covered her breast in the lacy cup of her bra. The pleasure centers in her brain positively purred. Her nipple pebbled against his palm, chafing against the fabric. He must have felt it; he circled the tight peak with his thumb.

  “Yes,” she whisp
ered, arching into the much-needed contact. He leaned forward to kiss and lick at the base of her throat.

  It was crazy, and it was everything she’d tried to convince herself she didn’t want, but God, it felt too good. His thumb slipped under the lace of her bra, and she nearly lost her mind. In one swift movement, he shoved her baby tee up over her breasts and growled a string of curses, lowering his head to nip and lick the swells above her bra cups. She stroked his smooth head and almost grinned at the memory of Sam talking about bald guys. It was different, but she liked it.

  Oh, she liked everything about what he was doing. If only he would do it a little faster…

  “Please,” she whimpered, shifting in an attempt to bring his decadent mouth in contact with her puckered nipple. Even through her bra, she didn’t care; she just needed the contact. He kept deliberately avoiding it, teasing her without mercy. She’d never ached so much as when she was with him, but surely this time it had to do with the wrongness of this situation, almost shirtless in his backseat in a bar parking lot. With a guy she shouldn’t be with.

  And last time?

  Well, last time had almost been the same circumstances, save for the location. It had been dark and isolated, not in clear view of everyone in a busy parking lot. Whatever the reason, she couldn’t stop moving against him, and those little moans coming from her throat that sounded like some other far more wanton woman than she—surely it was some alternate universe she’d fallen into affecting her actions. Her reactions.

  Seth pulled his head back. It was all she could do not to hold it in place. “I gotta stop, babe,” he said, bringing her world to an end. “I’m sorry, but if I don’t now, I won’t be able to later. And we’ll get caught.” Carefully, he slid her shirt back in place. Then his dark eyes flickered up to hers.

  She could only imagine how she must look. The vast majority of her hair hung in her face. Her lips felt swollen, her eyes heavy-lidded. Tremors shook her hands and pretty much the rest of her body.

  “Beautiful,” he whispered, as if he’d read her thoughts. He reached up to smooth her hair back. “Hey. I can’t go with you now, but if you really want to continue this later, you know…my number’s still good.”