Leave Me Breathless (Ross Siblings #3)(38)
Author: Cherrie Lynn

She hadn’t come here to f**k him; she’d come here to make love to him. He wasn’t ready for that yet.

“It’s all going to be okay,” she whispered, stroking his back.

He inhaled the overwhelming sweetness of her skin and hair and released his breath on a shudder, trying to get a grip before he just f**king lost it, right here, right now. There was so much, too much shit flying around his head…and maybe this had been an epically bad idea to expose her to it.

“Turn over; let me up.”

No use arguing with her. He rolled, pulling her with him. Maybe she wouldn’t look at his face too much. God only knew what she’d see.

Planting little kisses along his jaw, she lifted her hips, letting him slide out to just the last half-inch. He groaned, clenching his hands on her ass in an effort not to shove her back down. Slowly, so damn slowly it curled his toes, she sank again. Inch by inch until she’d taken him all and he’d broken out in a sweat.

“Oh God,” she gasped. Her warm palms captured his face, and her lips melted over his. Then, as she lifted and sank again, she pulled her head back and stared right at him, lips parted, eyes glazed with pleasure. “Oh.”

“Macy…” Heaven. She was a little piece of heaven wrapped around him to offset the hell in his head. Her body moved with fluid grace as she began to love him…it was the only word for what she did. Every withdrawal brought her lips back to his. Her scents—like cupcakes and sex—swirled in his head, and he could drown in the dark luxury of her heavy silken hair falling around him.

A little faster now, but still gently, she rode him, seeking the angle that told him she was reaching her peak and needed to fly. So much for his hope she wouldn’t look at him much, because she stared right in his f**king eyes, hers like burning amber glazed with pleasure and need.

“Fuck, that’s good,” she said, and it was so unexpected he almost burst out laughing.

“Aren’t you glad you didn’t run screaming?”

“Wha…? Oh.” She gave a breathy laugh, apparently remembering her comment about his piercing. “I am. So freaking glad.”

“Turn around.”

“Huh?”

He urged her up with a gentle push on her hips. “Turn around, cowgirl. You’ll see.” Curious uncertainty flashing in her eyes, she did as he told her, putting her back to him. He reached between them and positioned himself at her entrance, both of them groaning as she sank back down, swallowing him whole.

“Fuck,” he breathed. Running his hand up her sides, he drew her back until she lay atop him, turning her head for a kiss as he caressed her belly and br**sts. It was a welcome break from her probing gaze, and, given her whimpers and the minute gyrations of her h*ps on him as he lay perfectly still, he knew his piercing was resting at her sweet spot.

“Seth,” she moaned against his mouth. “I need…” Her p**sy pulsed around him, involuntary spasms that were going to drive him out of his mind.

God, yes, she needed, and he wanted to be the one overseeing the fulfillment of those needs from now on. He took one of her hands and slid it down over her belly. “Play with your clit, Macy.”

The disadvantage was that he couldn’t see as she obeyed. He felt her hand leave his, heard the tiny, moist sound of her fingers finding their target and her answering sigh. In little increments, he began to move. It was all she needed—for him to work the very spot he was at. Her fingers explored lower and touched his dick where it disappeared inside her, and the shock of it jolted up his spine, made him growl, made him tighten his arm around her waist.

“I need you to come, baby, before I blow,” he said in a rush at her ear. “Need to feel you squeeze me while I’m hard and deep.”

“Yes.” The brush of her fingers left him and returned to working the little bud he couldn’t wait to kiss and tongue and suck later until she screamed. He told her all about those plans while she sighed and moaned, trembled and jerked, until finally she broke over him. Her body undulated in waves while he left control in the dust and took her in long strokes that sent her cries higher and milked his own release from him in great heaving spasms that took all the stress and heartache with them—at least for the moment. Her weight collapsed onto him just as the last shudder rent him.

But she didn’t stay. She slid off him and curled at his side, her body still shaking so violently he was compelled to turn and wrap her in his arms.

“Are you okay?”

She only nodded, clinging to him. He didn’t push. It had been f**king intense for him, too, and he couldn’t have articulated it, so there was no reason to make her attempt to do so.

As quickly as he was able, he took care of the condom. Then, reaching over her, he pulled the lower half of the bedspread away from the mattress and tossed it over both of them, snuggling her closer into his chest. Just in case her shivering wasn’t only emotional in nature.

And if it was? If she was as affected by what was happening here as he seemed to be?

He gripped her tighter. Her smooth leg slid over his, and her arm went around his waist, her head nestling under his chin. Warm breath gusted against his shoulder. So much for his grand, smart plans to keep her at a distance. Here in this little cocoon, the world didn’t matter, and seemingly anything he’d ever thought or felt before didn’t matter either. He would f**king die for this girl.

“You’re too good for me,” he whispered. Not really what he wanted to spout at the moment, but it was what came out.

“Don’t say that.” Her voice was still small, husky, breathless.

“I know. It’s lame.”

Her head lifted, and clear hazel eyes met his gaze. “I want you. And I’m an uptight bitch, remember? I don’t tend to want things that aren’t good enough for me.”

“An uptight bitch? Who the hell ever told you that?”

“No one ever had to tell me that.”

“For an uptight bitch, you’re pretty damn selfless.”

A grin teased at the corner of her lips. “You think I don’t have my own selfish reasons for being here?”

“Well, so did I, for that matter. So, how about admitting neither of us is perfect and getting on with life.”

“You brought it up.”

“It was an observation. Correct but irrelevant.”

“Not correct and irrelevant.”

He laughed, sinking his hand into her hair to cup her neck and guide her lips back to his. “All right,” he told her between mouthfuls of her sweetness. “I give in.”

“That’s the way it should be.” She slid her body over his, a devilish glint in her eyes. “You giving in.”

“Is it now?”

“Mm-hmm.” Her thighs eased open around his hips, and her mouth trailed down to his right nipple ring. When her tongue flicked it, his breath caught. Damn if his c*ck wasn’t already swelling hard against the softness of her belly. “So do these really heighten sensitivity?”

He lifted his hips, pressing his erection into her. “What do you think?”

As she chuckled, a burst of her breath cooled the wetness she’d left at his nipple and he groaned. “I think I could look at you and get that reaction.”

She might just be right about that. “You interested?”

Her incredulous gaze lifted to his. “In nipple rings? Oh, hell no.”

A gasp escaped her as he flipped her under him, the movement causing the blanket to slip off their bodies. “I don’t pierce, anyway.”

“You don’t?”

“Nope. Purely interested in the ink.” Her skin was a delicious mix of sweet and salty as he licked the delicate curve where her neck met her shoulder. He knew from experience that flavor only intensified between her legs. “There’s so much I want to do with you.”

“As long as it doesn’t involve needles.”

“Noted.” He drew one pert nipple into his mouth, sucked it slowly as he skimmed his fingers down her belly. Her h*ps tilted upward in sweet invitation, and he accepted, sliding two fingertips on either side of her cl*t but not touching it directly. She gave a little mewl of distress…and then the words that stopped the world’s turning.

“Other than that, you can…do anything you want to me.”

The building could’ve caught fire, a tornado siren could’ve blared, or a f**king wrecking ball could’ve crashed through the wall, and he wouldn’t have noticed at the moment. But those words brought his head up.

“What do you want?”

He could practically see the blush rising in her cheeks. “I thought we were talking about what you want.”

“No, this is all you. I’d like to push you, but only to places where I’m pretty certain you’d like to go. I’m not going to cross any lines you may have all for the sake of getting myself off. So if there’s something you’re curious about, or you think you want to try, then you need to tell me.”

She averted her gaze from his, studying the portion of the ceiling just over his right shoulder. “I just keep thinking about what you said about your ex, about you staying around because she was crazy in bed. It was the first thing you mentioned when I asked why you were with someone like that for so long.”

“And if I’d used my brain, I would never have told you that, especially if I thought it would eat at you. Hey.” Gently, he stroked the hair from her forehead, drawing her attention again. “It might’ve kept me for a while, but it didn’t keep me forever, did it?”

“I don’t like the thought that I’m not the best you’ve ever had.” Wow. The fierce intensity of that statement took him by surprise, and for a moment, he wondered if he’d just gotten a glimpse of the pre-accident, always-gotta-win Macy everyone talked about. Also…what the hell?

“Now I f**king did not mean to give you that impression. Jesus, girl.” He sat up on his knees, rubbing a hand over his head. She followed, modestly holding the bedspread to the swell of her br**sts. “I wish I could even describe to you how I felt that first night we were together. I can’t, though, because the only words going through my mind were holy f**king shit. That’s it. Over and over. That you had even looked my way once, that you agreed to meet up, that you actually pulled the first move and didn’t tease or stop me—my life could’ve ended that night, Macy, and I’d have considered it complete. You are the best I’ve ever had. If all we do from now on is straight missionary sex at eight p.m. on Tuesday nights of months that start with J, you’ll still be the best I’ve ever had.”

If he’d expected her to look happy about all of that, he was disappointed. She lowered her head, still clutching that ridiculous blanket as if he hadn’t just had her nipple in his mouth. “Then I had to go and mess everything up,” she said at last, sounding small and dejected.

“Don’t beat yourself up. You explained. It’s forgiven. Come here.” Scooting to her on his knees, he wrapped her in his arms. Thank God, she finally dropped the blanket, going skin-to-skin with him, burying her face in his shoulder and squeezing him tight. “I’m the luckiest son of a bitch alive to be here right now,” he whispered. “Don’t ever think I don’t know it.”