Eight Ways to Ecstasy

by Jeanette Grey

  Pulling away, she gasped for breath, but he only moved his mouth to her jaw, sliding slick, sucking kisses along the column of her throat. He was going to leave marks, and she wanted them.

  Only—

  Only they were on a public street. One of her friends could come out at any time. They might even be able to see from the window. Hell, she was pretty sure she’d spotted one of her professors in there.

  Summoning her wits, she shoved at his shoulder, and when that didn’t work, only impelling him to wring a moan of need from her lungs with the heat of his kiss, she grasped his head between her hands.

  “Rylan. We can’t.”

  “Oh, we can. And we will.”

  She swallowed hard. Need pooled in her abdomen, her breasts tightening to twin aching points at the deep roughness in his voice. And this wasn’t supposed to be happening. They were supposed to talk.

  But all she managed to say, breathy and panting, was, “Not here.”

  Rylan couldn’t even touch her.

  With his hands balled into fists against the need vibrating in his bones, he walked a stiff, straight line to the alley where they’d left Chase’s Bentley. It was torture, with Kate so close, taking quick half-running steps just to keep up, but if he so much as felt her skin or got a whiff of her scent, he’d be lost.

  Relief trembled through him to find the alley deserted. It was a minor miracle, this time of night in this part of town, but he wouldn’t question it. They got within striking distance of the car, and all the control he’d been exercising evaporated.

  Grabbing for her, he pulled her in against his chest. She didn’t melt into him so much as climb him, and he could have cried with the sweetness of it as he lifted her up. Got his hands on the curve of her ass through her skirt. Hoisting her onto the edge of the trunk, he devoured her mouth, all sharp, biting kisses, the faint taste of wine on her tongue and the rough tug of her fingers in his hair. Their hips met, and he groaned aloud at the pressure against his cock. He’d been hard inside his jeans since the moment he’d gotten her pressed against the brick outside the gallery, and at this point he was ready to explode.

  Smoothing his hand down her thigh, he cupped her knee, urging it higher. He wanted her legs wrapped around him, her body open for him. She sounded as caught up in it as he was, her breath coming fast, mouth hot and kisses tinged with the same desperation searing his veins.

  Fuck, he could pull himself out right now. Ruck her skirt up and shove her panties to the side and be right there, pushing in. Taking her here in the open air, where anyone could see, on the damn trunk of this fucking car.

  “Rylan—”

  The way she said his name had him one step closer to doing it.

  But then there was the sound of laughter. Someone in the street, or hell, maybe in one of the apartments looking down over this alley, and he tore himself away. He was better than this. She deserved better.

  Their gazes met as his hands froze on her skin, hers going still on the back of his neck and in his hair. His throat bobbed, arousal turning his blood to molten need.

  He shifted his glance to the car behind them before connecting with hers again. He raised a brow. One beat passed and then another, every line of him tense with the strain of holding on. Of not getting himself inside her right now.

  She took a shuddering inhalation. And then, in the tightest of motions, she nodded.

  Oh, thank God.

  Reclaiming her mouth, he picked her up again, all fumbling motions as he got them around to the side of the car. He’d never been so grateful in his life for keyless entry as he was when he wrenched the back door open with one hand. He all but threw her down onto the leather seat. Chase’s whole car was going to smell like sex by the time they were done, like the sweetness of her pussy and the tang of their shared sweat, and he couldn’t wait.

  Tumbling in after her, it struck him—was this what it was like to be a normal teenager? Making out in a borrowed car and hoping no one walked by? The desperate rush, like there was nothing in the entire world more important than getting your hand up under a girl’s skirt? This need?

  His head thunked hard on the roof of the car as he twisted to pull the door shut behind them, and he swore aloud. She squeaked, barely managing to draw her foot back in time before it closed. Double-checking that the doors were locked, he turned, and Jesus.

  It was so cramped in here. He had one knee on the seat between the splay of her thighs, the other leg braced against the floor, his whole spine bent so he could fit, and she was scrunched up even worse. But it didn’t matter.

  She was gorgeous. And for now at least, she was his.

  In a rush, he fell back over her. Her spread thighs welcomed him in, and he shoved at her skirt, forcing it up and out of the way as he fit himself to her. A jolting shock pulsed through him at the hot pressure. He ground down against her, his cock rubbing hard into that soft, wet center of her through their clothes. Swallowing her moan, he bucked and pushed, cupped her tit with his free hand. But it wasn’t enough. He needed skin, needed inside. He needed too much.

  He stopped, breath ragged, scarcely seeing straight as he reared up.

  It was only habit at this point. She seemed to be right on the same page with him, ready to jump off this cliff and fall into the steamy crush of their bodies all twisted up together in this tiny space, but she’d started out so timid with him. He’d had to take such gentle care.

  There wasn’t any gentleness left in his hands.

  “Are you ready for this?” he asked, and every word was a low rumble. Thunder and lightning, and she was the rain. Was the only relief.

  “Ready?” Her eyes were glazed over. Even in the dim light, her mouth looked red and swollen, her lips bitten, and he wanted to scrape each one even harder with his teeth.

  He took his hand off her breast and clamped it against the back of the seat, the leather giving beneath the strength of his grip. “This isn’t going to be sweet, or slow, or soft.” He sucked in a ragged breath. “It can be. If you need it to be.” He’d promised he’d always take his time with her.

  “But that’s not how you want it.”

  “I want to fuck you so hard, Kate.” He wanted it rough and fast, just the pounding of his body into hers until all this weight, all this greed in his hands and his limbs and his cock gave way. Until there was nothing but her in his blood and on his tongue.

  A long, aching moment passed between them. Then, fingers trembling, she wrapped her hand around the back of his neck. Drew him down until they were sharing air. Against his lips, she breathed, “Then fuck me hard.”

  His lungs emptied forcefully, like the oxygen itself had been punched out of him. He tangled his tongue with hers in a kiss that was all teeth and wet muscle and need. Desperate, he dragged his lips to the point of her jaw and sucked. All down her throat, too hard, pausing only long enough to insist, “Tell me you’re sure.”

  “I’m—oh God—I’m sure.”

  He tugged the collar of her shirt aside and bit and laved at her skin, waiting until she cried out before moving on. Blood would be blooming to the surface, deep marks of possession so all the world would know. She was taken. She was his. Only his.

  The thin, tender skin of her inner thigh molded to the grip of his palm. He reached the hot space between her legs and had to claim her mouth again just to keep the hissing shock of pleasure that drove from her lungs. His cock throbbed at the wet clench of her as he slipped his fingers past her underwear.

  “Jesus, you are ready, aren’t you?” He could plunge in right now, take what was his, come inside her, fill her up and press harder and harder until she was dying for it.

  He spread her slickness around just to be sure, dipping his fingers just inside before circling them around her clit. The first glancing brush there had her knee kicking up, legs spasming as her head fell back.

  “That’s right, baby,” he said.

  She gave a low grunt as she reached for his belt. “Thought you were go
ing to fuck me.”

  “Oh, believe me, I am.”

  It didn’t matter how much he was aching to take her right then and there. He’d never hurt her, would never make her regret him the way she’d regretted the others. Shifting his thumb to that hot little nub above her slit, he plunged a couple of fingers inside. They slid in and out with slick, perfect sounds, and God, he wanted his mouth on her, even if only for a few seconds. But in this damn car, he’d have to fold himself in half. Probably have to hang out the damn window. There was no way.

  Tugging his fingers free, he went for the next best thing. He sat up on his knees, ducking so as not to hit his head. Caught her gaze before slipping his fingers between his lips.

  The hot taste of her went straight to his cock, and he closed his eyes.

  Only to have them fly right back open at the feeling of her fingertips at the waistband of his jeans.

  “Fuck,” he hissed, “Kate.”

  Lips between her teeth, she got his belt undone. Fumbled with the buttons at his fly, but they gave, and then she was reaching in.

  The first touch of her hand on bare skin was a shock of pleasure, sliding up his balls and into his damn spine. God, she felt good—not just that she was touching him, but the way she curled her fingers around his base as she pulled him out. The way she stroked, drawing liquid from his tip and sliding it around. His eyes about rolled back in his head.

  Gone was the passivity of their past two nights. She was here and with him, present in a way that made him tremble.

  Enough hesitating. Enough waiting.

  He gave his fingers one last suck before withdrawing them. He got his wallet out and plucked the condom from its pocket. Tore the packet open with his teeth. She moved her hand out of the way as he placed the circle of latex over his tip, but then she was there, skin brushing his as she helped him roll it along his length, and he had to squeeze down hard around the base to try to get himself under control.

  “Lie back,” he said, the gravelly darkness of his voice surprising even him.

  Pulse roaring, he followed her to the seat, rearranging her legs, lifting one knee and pressing it hard to her chest. Getting her open and ready for him.

  And shit, he had no leverage in this position, but he didn’t care. Tugging her underwear aside, he dragged the tip of his cock up and down the slick gash of her cunt, little nudges to just barely press himself inside before shifting up to circle her clit, over and over until his head spun. He nipped at her lips, kissed his way across her cheek and to her ear where he scraped his teeth across the lobe, and it wasn’t enough. Nothing would ever be enough.

  Not until she was his.

  The fire from back at the gallery filled him, sending filthy thoughts, needy words bubbling up into his lungs.

  Groaning against her ear, he slid himself harder against her, so close to but not quite giving them what they both needed. “Tell me you want it,” he ground out.

  She whined, angling her neck to the side in sheer invitation. “I already—”

  He shook his head. “You told me you were ready for it. Tell me you want it. You want my cock, want to get fucked, want me—”

  He bit off the word. Because that was what he needed. What he’d always needed. Someone to want him. Not his money or his power or what he could do for them. Just him.

  Just like she had.

  Once, back in a different life, she had.

  “Tell me,” he insisted, and it was a command and a plea.

  “Rylan.” Her voice walked an edge of desperation that made his skin go shivery and tight. Wrapping a leg around his hips, she reached down and into his waistband to clutch at his hip and yank. God but that would’ve done it for him, if he weren’t so intent on getting her to ask.

  He gritted his teeth, held firm at the cusp of her entrance. He was so hard it hurt, but no way he was giving in. She had to be aching, too, had to be so close to begging him for it. “Aren’t you empty, baby? Say the word. Just say it—”

  “Rylan,” she repeated, and this time she threaded her fingers through his hair. The sharp pull made his eyes burn, but he rose up. Braced a hand against the window above her head, and she was gazing at him with these hazy, lust-drunk eyes. There was clarity behind the desperation, though. Like she saw right through him. Like she knew.

  “Rylan. I want you.”

  Something in his chest clicked into place.

  He drove inside in one long stroke, buried himself in wet heat, and he could have cried. Shuddering, he moaned her name and fell back over her. Their lips met in a not-quite kiss as he fought past the shock of being surrounded by her, consumed in her warmth and her words. The hand at his hip gripped him harder, and he rocked forward, clenching his jaw against the pressure already gathering, the need to pour himself into her.

  And he should wait, slow down. Make it last. But this energy vibrated through him, reaching a fever pitch. He snapped.

  “Hold on,” he managed to grit out.

  Scrambling for purchase, he drew his hips back. After a bare second’s pause, he drove forward, and his vision whited out, it was so good. He’d scarcely bottomed out before drawing away again, faster this time, and he couldn’t stop.

  His rhythm was punishing, so much rougher than he ever would’ve dared with her had he been in his right mind. He’d make it good for her regardless, only this fucking car…There wasn’t any room to get a hand on her, to even ask her to touch herself, but he’d try, goddammit all. He shifted, working to get an arm free.

  But his foot slipped, jamming into the door, changing his angle, and a low, whimpering sound made its way out of her, her fingers digging into his skin, and fuck yeah, he loved it when she used her nails.

  Except. Shit.

  He buried his face in her hair but didn’t slow, panting hard. “Too much?”

  It was beyond too much, and it would never be enough. Here he was. Pounding into her, taking her like an animal, using her, because he needed to lose himself in her body. Because he needed, not because she did—

  Fuck, he had to stop.

  But she shook her head and arched up into him, meeting his strokes, and it was a burst of lightning in his brain.

  “It’s good,” she insisted.

  The thunder of her pleasure deafened his senses.

  “Yeah?” Oh God, he was in so deep. Speeding his thrusts, he drove into her again and again, but he needed her voice. Needed to know she was still with him. “You like it hard?”

  Her nails dug in. “Yeah.”

  “Tell me. Tell me you like it when I fuck you.”

  “I—” Her voice cut off, this throaty sound escaping. Shooting straight to his balls. “I love it.”

  I love you.

  He bit down on his tongue hard enough he feared it would bleed. All his life, he’d seen how love could be used, how easy it was to discard, but it was welling up in him with such force now. Threatening to drown him.

  And all he wanted to do was give it to her. For her to take it.

  “Tell me you’re mine,” he choked out, and this wasn’t the time. She wasn’t his. She’d barely agreed to see him, still seemed reluctant more often than not. She’d been so angry at him—

  “I’m yours. Rylan—”

  And that was it. Climax took him by surprise, surging through him and turning him inside out. With the first gasping pulse of it, he opened his mouth to warn her, but she was pulling him into a kiss that tasted like heaven and her, and he lost himself to it. Shuddered inside her hands, inside her body. He emptied himself until there was nothing left, his legs and arms and lungs all giving out on him.

  When he came back to himself, he was splayed out on top of her, his mouth open and damp against her throat, her fingers petting stiffly at his hair. Groaning, he worked to get an arm under him to take some of his weight. He had to be crushing her, and worse, he’d come before she had and then practically blacked out. Pathetic. But he’d do his best to rectify it.

  He withdrew from her
with a low grunt, only to have his knee lock up on him as he fought to rise. The awkward angles of his limbs and the crick in his spine he hadn’t cared about as he’d been careening toward orgasm suddenly made themselves painfully clear. He spit out a low curse and she laughed.

  “Car sex always sounded like such a good idea,” she said, voice tight.

  “Especially in a car as sexy as this.”

  “Not as good in practice, though, is it?”

  Not good? Any better and he might have broken a hip.

  “I don’t know about that.”

  He’d prove it to her in a minute. Just as soon as he got his breath back.

  With effort, he lifted himself off her, all but collapsing to the floor in a heap. He tied off the condom and dropped it into a handkerchief before setting it aside. He licked his lips, more focused now. Ready to do better. But by the time he twisted back around, it was to find her struggling to sit up, tugging her skirt back into place. Like she thought they were done.

  Well, fuck that.

  A growl rose to the back of his throat. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  She looked up at him, eyes wide, hands freezing at the hem of her skirt. “Um…”

  The male center of pride in him quaked. “Did you or did you not just tell me you were mine?”

  “I—”

  “I take care of what’s mine.”

  With a fresh burst of energy, he took her by the wrists and shoved her hands out of the way. Flipped her skirt back up.

  Fuck, but her panties were soaked.

  Ignoring the way she squirmed, he got her sitting up, arranged her in the middle of the seat, and spread her legs wide. Hooked his hands under her knees and hauled her forward so her ass sat at the edge of the seat.

  “Jesus,” she said as he dove in.

  He sucked at the wet panel of her underwear, scraping his teeth over her clit through the fabric. It was even more awkward of a position than he’d imagined earlier when he’d wanted to get his mouth on her, but he didn’t care. Slinging a trembling thigh over his shoulder, he tugged her panties to the side, exposing all that sweet, ripe flesh.