Touched By The Devil (Devil's Riders 7)

Except Mac was even hotter.

He was way too hot for me. I was average at best. I was out of my league and I knew it. And yet… if he wanted to kiss me, I definitely wasn’t going to stop him.

“Do you want to go to the couch?”

He stood up and took my hand, hauling me to my feet with his large hand firmly in the center of my back. I landed against his chest. I was stunned for a minute at how fast it had happened. Then he used his calloused fingers to tip my chin up.

His eyes were on my mouth. My eyes were on his mouth.

This is happening. It is happening again. Do not fart, Suzanna. Do. Not. Fart.

I sighed as his lips closed over mine. He started slowly, molding and shaping our mouths together. Then he nudged my lips apart and delved his tongue inside my mouth. It was exploratory, slow and sensual.

But there was no mistaking the rhythm he made with his tongue. I gasped as I realized what he was doing.

He was… having sex with my mouth.

Fucking, Sussy. It’s called fucking.

I whimpered as his hands moved over my body, lightly touching and grasping, as if he was exploring me. As if he was learning the topography of my skin.

I was still wearing all of my clothes. So was he.

Somehow, I’d never felt anything this erotic in my life. Not even close. I was breathless and hot and very, very bothered. And I had a feeling he was just getting started.

I let out a soft squeal as he hoisted me, settling my ass on the high table that served as my workspace, sometimes desk, and the only place to eat. His hands were on my thighs as he tugged me forward so that my inner thighs wrapped around his hips. He grunted in satisfaction as our bodies met, the sound deep and raw and so sexy I nearly fainted from it. I could feel the heat of his cock pulsing through our jeans.

Oh. My.

Mac was very, very big and very, very hard. I swallowed nervously at the thought of that thing inside me. It would be a tight fit, that was for sure.

“Not tonight,” he said softly against my ear as his fingertips brushed up my body to toy with my nipples. There was something so filthy about being felt up this way. Over my clothes. Over my bra. Like we were a couple of horny teenagers in the back seat of a car.

Not that I’d ever done that either. I was a prude back in high school, or at least, that’s what I’d heard a couple of boys say about me when they thought I couldn’t hear them.

Maybe I was.

Maybe it was time to change that.

My hands were on his shoulders, holding on for dear life. I decided to do a little exploring myself as Mac’s tongue traced the sensitive curve of my ear. I dragged my palms over his chest and lower, feeling the flat expanse of his belly. He laughed harshly and caught my hands, pulling them away.

“I told you,” he said, his dark eyes burning into mine. “Not tonight.”

“I wasn’t—”

He kissed me before I could finish and lifted me up, carrying me to the couch. I was too stunned to speak. This wasn’t dignified. He was careful, but he was still treating my body like I was a rag doll. He laid me down and spread my thighs, settling in between them.

He grunted again at the pleasure of being fit together that way. It felt good. Better than I could have imagined. He took my hands and put them firmly on his shoulders.

“Just don’t… don’t touch me too much, okay? I don’t want to lose control.”

“Okay,” I agreed, somewhat mollified by his explanation. And then I stopped thinking. Mac was kissing me again, long and slow and deep.

That wasn’t all he did.

He started grinding. I let out an inhuman sound, like a kitten, as his cock pressed rhythmically into my denim- and panty-covered pussy. It was dirtier than sex. It was pure need, our bodies rubbing desperately together like two sticks that wanted to make fire.

Oh. My. God.

I closed my eyes and held on for dear life.

Chapter 11

Mac

Make it last, Mac. Go slow. Don’t spook her.

If all she wanted to do was kiss, I planned to kiss Suzanna for hours. No matter how much it hurt, I’d play by her rules. I wouldn’t do anything else.

Not even if she begged.

I really wanted to hear her beg.

A little touching, but only over the clothes. A lot of touching, I thought, sliding my greedy hands over her gorgeous curves. I’d make her writhe for me. She’d be purring like a kitten and begging me to take her.

If I had to suffer right along with her, so be it. Having her in my arms was the best damn form of torture I could possibly imagine. Holding her like this was more than worth a case of blue balls.