He kept her waiting, content to kiss her heating skin until she reached up and pulled her bra cups down, exposing her ni**les. As soon as she did, he sucked one hard, the answering throb in her pu**y causing her to grind against his erection. She could feel it now—oh, God, yes—rock hard and straining damn impressively against the denim separating him from her needy core.

She needed that. She’d been needing it for a long time, she just hadn’t realized how much until this moment. And now that she was exceedingly aware of her need, she wanted it now. His breath caught when she reached for his fly, and she gave him a light squeeze through his jeans before she went to work on it. “Fuck,” he breathed, and when he shifted above her, it took a moment for her to realize he was digging in his back pocket.

Wallet. Condom. Oh, hell yes. She was damn glad he had one on him; she’d had the foresight to put a couple in her purse, but it was somewhere up front and the thought of letting go of him even for a minute was intolerable.

A pull of his zipper, a sharp yank of his button, and his c**k was in her hands...big, thick and hot. Devastatingly hard. Circling it with her hand, she gave it a swift stroke...and stopped when the edge of her thumb encountered something small, hard and round on the underside.

What the...

Holy shit. He had a piercing.

Any other time she might have recoiled or freaked out or bailed out of the car at the thought of something like that coming anywhere near her vagina. But said vagina was so desperate for something to come near it that Macy couldn’t be bothered to care...except to wonder with some concern how it was going to feel.

The only conclusion she could come to was that it was going to feel damn remarkable.

She had to reluctantly let go of him so he could sheath himself with the condom. Macy hooked her thumb in the side of her panties, only bothering to remove one leg. To hell with the other.

The breath whooshed out of him when he saw her. He put both hands high on her thighs, almost framing her with his fingers while she squirmed desperately, trying to get him to touch. She was hot, burning up, at odds with the cool air circulating over her now.

Gently, too damn gently, he trailed the tip of one index finger down her clit. Her hips nearly wrenched off the seat, but he held her down with his other hand, content to play with her with that maddening slowness, that teasing, almost timid exploration. She wouldn’t freaking break, damn. She wanted him rough. Wanted him hard. Her muscles were clenching on emptiness; she wanted to be full. Full of him.

“Please,” she whispered.

He slipped his finger inside her, and they both moaned in sync. As he thrust it slowly and added another, she could feel how wet she was. How greedily she gripped him. More, she needed more. She licked her lips, rolling her head, aware that he watched her but not caring. A third finger, and she almost came. Light spasms rocked her, shivers radiating out from her middle.

He must have felt that. He left her, and she muttered an incoherent protest, but then he was there again, both of them locked in a breathless moment as he poised his blunt head at her entrance. He stared into her eyes, his a maelstrom of need and heat and some emotion she couldn’t identify. Whatever it was, it broke her heart.

But what was he waiting for? Her?

“Yes,” she whispered, just in case he needed one last assent from her, one last word of permission. She caught his face in her hands, wishing she could kiss him, but for whatever reason he didn’t want that.

He pushed. She opened, so slick and ready but aching and burning—it had been so long. He groaned and dropped his head to her neck, she sighed and sank her teeth into the firm muscle of his shoulder. Inch by inch she took him, that little ball on the underside of his c**k slipping inside and stroking parts of her that made her tremble and clench around him. She found herself repeating that little word of assent, over and over and over.

When she thought she might lose her mind, Macy plunged her hands down the loosened back of his jeans and kneaded the firm muscles of his ass, praying he’d put them to good use soon. His hand shot out to the front seat, grasping it until the vinyl creaked. God, he used the leverage to get even deeper, so deep she expected to feel him in her throat. The pain of his intrusion fused with the ache of her arousal and created something that swamped her mind and inhibitions, leaving nothing but blind, devastating pleasure. She only wanted to sprawl wider for him, get him even deeper, never let him go.

“Put your foot on the driver’s seat,” he rasped. “Can’t get enough of you.” Yes…yes, that sounded wonderful…but when her leg wouldn’t obey the impulses from her brain and could only tremble helplessly around his hip, he did it for her, his fingers denting her calf hard. Everything about him was hard. Rough. Raw, just like she’d wanted. He thrust forward and forced a cry from her.

“That’s it,” he breathed.

“More,” she pleaded, pushing against the seat to get some movement, some friction to stoke the heat.

“Yeah?”

“Please.”

Slowly he pulled out, groaning along with her as her slick heat gripped him rhythmically. Their breath mingled but still, he didn’t kiss her. Her hands fisted his shirt then tore it upward, desperate for the feel of smooth, hard flesh, for something to cling to. He didn’t disappoint. As her hands smoothed over the muscles of his back, she wondered at all the ink that must be under her questing fingers.

“You’re shaking,” he whispered. “Are you okay?”

She nodded quickly, feeling his piercing more intensely as it neared her entrance. When the head of his c**k slipped free she gasped and inched her hips down to reclaim it, practically cramping from the emptiness he left. As unhurriedly as he’d withdrawn, he gave it back, long and deep and so damn thick. Macy sighed with pure bliss.

She couldn’t believe she was doing this.

He breathed something against her neck, something that sounded like “So f**king perfect,” but she couldn’t be sure. Even the possibility made her heart turn over in her chest. She wanted to be, yes. She wanted to be perfect for him right now, because he damn sure felt perfect himself. Scarily so.

He withdrew. Pushed back in. Again. Each time faster, each time harder. Her head fell back as far as the panel behind her would allow; he arched his back so his mouth could explore the swell of her br**sts, her ni**les, everywhere. Tonguing, sucking in time with his increasingly heated thrusts. The car had to be rocking by now. If a cop came by—if… “Oh, God, yes, there…there!” she cried, wishing she knew his damn first name so she could call it out.

Chapter Six

Holy shit. Holy f**king shit.

Maybe if he kept thinking it, and stopped looking at how beautiful she was, stopped feeling how tight and wet she was, he could stave off the orgasm threatening to erupt any second—he couldn’t come yet. If he had to sing the damn “Star-Spangled Banner,” he couldn’t come yet, because she hadn’t. When a girl like Macy gives you a shot, you step the f**k up. Make her not regret it. Make her dream about it for days, hell, years to come.

It was a glorious dichotomy—whenever he thrust into her, the absolute mind-numbing pleasure was offset by the bite of her fingernails in his back. Whenever he sucked her nipple hard, she raked them lower. He longed for more light so he could see, but it didn’t matter; she was beautiful, too f**king beautiful to bang in his backseat. But he’d thrown down the challenge and she’d accepted.