3. Rue #2
With tremors running through me, I grip the open edges of his leather vest. Sounding smoky, I ask, “What happens when the maze opens again?”
“Don’t care.”
“Someone might find us.”
His thumb strokes the side of my throat. “That bother you?”
It should.
We’re in the middle of a crowded motorcycle club compound. Men are working somewhere on the other side of these walls. In thirty minutes, strangers will be walking through this exact passage.
The idea sends another rush of heat between my legs.
“No,” I whisper.
Gunnar’s hand tightens slightly around my throat. His voice turns huskier. “Tell me what you want, Rue.”
I stare up at the skull mask face.
I’m so far out of my element, I might as well be on Mars. One thing is certain—if I think too hard, I’ll lose my nerve.
“I want you to stop talking about getting under my dress.”
His hand falls away from my throat and my disappointment hits me like cold water thrown in my face.
Gunnar reaches beneath the lower edge of his mask and does something that produces a soft click. The bottom section comes free in his hand.
I still can’t see most of his face, but his mouth is exposed.
He was covering a gorgeous, strong jaw, dusted with dark stubble. His lips are fuller than I imagined.
He drops the piece of the mask onto the coffin beside us with a thunk.
“Better?” he asks.
I can’t stop staring at his mouth. “No. I meant you should do it.”
For a long few seconds, he looks at me. Finally he rasps, “Fuck, are you sure?”
“More than I’ve ever been sure of anything.”
He growls. One hand cups the back of my head. The other locks around my hip, dragging me as close as possible. “Tell me to stop if you want me to stop.”
“I don’t want you to.”
His mouth takes mine.
There’s nothing hesitant about the kiss. Gunnar’s lips part mine, his tongue stroking deep as he pins me against the wall.
I grab the edges of his vest and hold on while his body overwhelms mine.
He tastes like beer and peppermint.
No kiss should be this good.
It shouldn’t make me forget where I am or that I don’t know what Gunnar looks like beneath the rest of the mask. It definitely shouldn’t make me rub against the front of my own dress, desperate for friction I can’t get.
He feels the movement and his mouth leaves mine as he groans. “Fuck, Rue.”
I tighten my grip on his leather. His mouth finds mine again, harder this time. My fingers curl desperately into his vest while he kisses me until I’m lightheaded, until I’m rubbing helplessly against the mountain of fabric between us.
Gunnar feels every bit of it.
His hand slides beneath the edge of my hoop skirt.
I gasp into his mouth as his fingers travel over the layers underneath, working higher until he finds the tied waist of my bloomers.
“Still want me under this dress?” he asks against my lips.
I nod before remembering he needs an actual answer. “Yes.”
“Say it.”
“I want you to do everything to me.”
The sound he makes sets off sparklers inside my tummy.
He lowers himself in front of me, lifting the hoop over one broad shoulder. Pink fabric froths around him as he disappears beneath my skirt.
His hands close around my thighs. Cool air reaches skin that has been hot for the last hour. Then his fingers spread me open, and his mouth touches me.
My knees buckle.
One of his hands clamps around my thigh while the other presses against my stomach, holding me upright. His tongue moves slowly at first, one deep stroke that steals the breath from my lungs.
Then he does it again.
I grab the wall behind me, my fingernails scraping over painted plywood as pleasure twists low in my stomach.
“Oh my God.”
His laugh vibrates against me. The sensation nearly takes me apart.
I look down, but there’s nothing to see except yards of trembling pink fabric and the shape of a masked man hidden beneath it. His boots are sticking out from the hem.
Anyone could walk around the corner. The maze could reopen. Someone could hear me.
The danger makes everything sharper.
Gunnar’s tongue circles me, then flattens as he drags it slowly over the place that makes my entire body jerk. I clamp a hand over my mouth before the sound escapes.
He doesn’t let up. His grip tightens around my thigh as he works me higher, taking his time, repeating whatever makes me shake.
The pressure builds until I can’t hold myself still. I push against his mouth. God. Yes.
I’m shameless now, chasing a peak I’ve never felt. He growls beneath my dress. “Fuck, your pussy is amazing.”
His words uncork the pressure. Ecstasy crashes through me so hard my head hits the wall. Gunnar holds me upright while I come against his mouth, my body pulsing as he keeps licking me.
I’m shaking so hard the plywood wall behind me is rattling.
Mother of orgasms. What just happened to me?
I cover my eyes, a strained laugh caught in my throat as he lowers the dress.
Gunnar rises to his full height. His mouth is wet. His breathing is fast and he’s rigid beneath his jeans. The outline is plain as day now. And it’s big.
My breathing grows erratic all over again as he braces one hand beside my head.
“You okay?” His voice is husky and I can smell my own scent on him, mixing with the warm leather smell of him.
“I think so,” I say with a wobbly voice. “No one has ever done that to me before. I might need a bit before I can form a rational answer.”
He shifts, hooking a knuckle under my chin, forcing me to look up at his mask. “No one’s gone down on you?”
I swallow and shake my head against his knuckle.
“But you’ve had sex.” It isn’t a question.
“Technically.”
His head tips slightly. “What the fuck does technically mean?”
My face burns like lava. I wish I could skip this. But I answer, telling him, “I’ve had sex twice in college with a guy I dated. He never took care of my pleasure.”
“That useless fucker.”
I pick at a loose thread on my skirt. “I spent most of it wondering whether I’d remembered to turn off my curling iron.”
For one beat, Gunnar says nothing. Then a dark laugh rolls out of him, and I have no idea whether I should be embarrassed or pleased that I caused it.
His hand closes around the back of my neck, the heat instantly washing through me. “Nothing you’ve done before counts. When I get inside you, an electric appliance will be the last damned thing you’ll be thinking about.”
Oh. My.
Footsteps sound in the next passage and my pulse spikes all over again at the thought that we were almost caught.
Gunnar replaces the lower section of his mask, hiding his mouth from me again, but I swear I can tell he’s grinning.
“Time to work, little zombie,” he says in a husky rasp.
With one of his big hands, he squeezes my ass through my dress, making a rough sound as he does. “Don’t tease me anymore or you’ll pay for it when we’re done.”