Page 66 of Welded Defender
That’s all I need.
“Backseat,” I murmur against her lips, the word half-swallowed between us. I push open the door with my shoulder, hinges groaning in the frozen air as I climb out with Marcy’s legs locked around my waist, her fingers threaded through my hair. The shy, hesitant woman who couldn’t meet my eyes when we first met has completely vanished. In her place is someone wild and wanting, her mouth trailing fire down the column of my throat. Her teeth catch the tender skin below my jaw, then trace the ridge of my ear, her breath coming in short, ragged puffs that cloud in the night air before disappearing against my skin, raising goosebumps that spread like wildfire down my spine.
“You’re killing me, baby,” I groan, my voice barely recognizable even to my own ears. I pin her between my body and the cold metal of the truck, condensation from our breath fogging the window behind her head. She gasps—a sharp, sweet sound that cuts through the stillness—as I press against her, the rough denim of my jeans doing nothing to hide how much I want her. Her fingers dig into my shoulders, nails biting through my jacket as her head falls back, exposing the pale column of her throat to the moonlight.
“Landon,” she whimpers my name.
Her chest rises and falls against mine, each breath leaving a small cloud between us in the frigid air. I want to go slow, to memorize every inch of her, but when her eyes lock with mine—pupils blown wide, a flush spreading across her cheeks—my resolve crumbles.
Her fingers curl into my jacket, pulling me closer as she draws my mouth to hers, the soft curve of her body fitting perfectly against my hard planes. I grip her hips, fingers digging into the tender flesh just above her jeans, and pull her closer as our mouths move together in a frantic dance. The cold metal of the truck contrasts sharply with the heat radiating between us, but all I can think about is how right this feels. With every kiss,every shudder of her breath against my lips, the tension from the past weeks begins to unwind.
“Marcy,” I murmur as I break the kiss, resting my forehead against hers. “Are you sure about this? Right now?”
She nods fiercely, her eyes blazing with determination and desire. “I think I’ll burn up without you right now.”
I can’t help but smile at her fierce honesty. Those words, sharp and desperate, tug at something deep within me, igniting a fire that spreads through my veins. I grip her waist tighter, feeling the warmth of her skin beneath my fingertips, the steady rhythm of her breath against me.
“Then let’s not waste another second,” I say, my voice low and husky as I press my mouth to hers again, pouring everything into this kiss. I want her to feel every ounce of the desire I have for her, every moment I’ve held myself back because I wanted to give her space.
Marcy’s hands glide from my shoulders to her jacket zipper, trembling slightly as she drags it down with deliberate slowness. The sound slices through the quiet like a whispered promise. Her eyes lock on mine as she grasps the hem of her cream sweater, fingers curling into the soft wool before pulling it upward in one fluid motion. Moonlight spills across her bare skin, painting her in silver and shadow. Her breasts rise and fall with each quickened breath, nipples hardening in the winter air.
“No bra?” I grin, my voice catching as I take in the sight of her. “Fuck, Marcy.”
I finally find the strength to look away long enough to fumble with the backdoor handle, my fingers clumsy with need. The hinges groan as I swing it open, cold air rushing between us for just a moment. I guide her into the backseat, leather creaking beneath our weight, her hair spilling across the dark upholstery. My breath hitches as I lower myself over her, the cramped space forcing every movement to bring us flush against each other.When I reach for the button of her jeans, the metal feels warm from being pressed between us. “Did you forget panties too?” I ask, my voice rough as gravel, thumb tracing the sliver of exposed skin just below her navel.
I slide her jeans down her legs, the fabric catching on her thighs like it’s reluctant to let go. A shaky breath escapes me when I glimpse the black lace—her choice sending pure desire shooting through me. The way her body moves, arching slightly as I work the denim free, pushes me to the edge of sanity.
“God, Marcy,” I murmur, letting the jeans drop onto the truck floor. “You’re breathtaking.” I slide my hands along her thighs. I want a taste so fucking bad.
I yank her to the edge of the seat, my knees digging into the frozen gravel as I hover half-outside the truck. December air burns my lungs, but Marcy’s skin blazes like a furnace when I grip her thighs and wrench them apart. She gasps—a sharp, broken sound—as I dive between her legs, burying my face against the damp lace, inhaling her scent like a drowning man finally reaching air.
“Landon,” she gasps, her voice breaking as I drag my teeth across the lace. Her hips buck against my mouth. “God—please—I can’t take it anymore.”
Her heat burns against my face like a brand as I claim her center. I rip the lace barrier aside, desperate for direct contact. Her thighs clamp around my head, muscles trembling against my cheeks. Every strangled cry she makes ignites something primal in me—I’ve fantasized about devouring her since that one night in her kitchen, and now I’m starving, ravenous.
My tongue plunges deep without warning, her taste flooding my senses like a drug. Her back arches off the seat, a hoarse scream tearing from her throat. I grip her hips to hold her in place as she writhes, my mouth relentless, merciless. Her fingers claw into my scalp as she grinds against my face.
This isn’t like that first night before she left. That was making love—this is a claiming. A claiming between two people who have waited too long to find each other.
Her taste is intoxicating, a drug I’ll never get enough of. I devour her like a man possessed, each savage stroke of my tongue drawing wild, animal sounds from her throat that echo in the cramped space. Her thighs clamp around my head with bruising force as she bucks against my mouth.
“Don’t ever leave me like that again,” I growl against her skin.
“I’m sorry,” she gasps. “I won’t.” She writhes on the seat, fingers tangling in my hair. “I promise I won’t.”
I tear my mouth away just enough to see her—head thrashing against the leather, mascara streaking down her temples, chest heaving. Her eyes are nearly black with hunger.
“Tell me what you need, Marcy.”
“You,” she sobs, clawing at my shoulders. “I need you, Landon.”
I don’t think—my body moves on pure instinct. I grip her thighs, pulling her closer, and dive back into her warmth, my tongue finding her sensitive core. She tastes like heaven, and the sounds she makes drive me forward, urging me to explore deeper, faster. Each stroke of my tongue sends her spiraling higher, and I feel the tension coiling tighter within her. I need to watch her unravel.
“Landon, PLEASE!” she cries, desperation threading through every syllable. “I’m—” She comes with a scream, her body arching off the seat, legs clamping around my head. She trembles against the leather, completely undone.
She’s barely caught her breath when she yanks me into the truck, my knees cracking against the door frame. The cab swallows us whole—too cramped, but I don’t give a damn. Her fingers claw at my belt, tearing the leather free.
I can barely think as I fumble with my jeans, fingers trembling with urgency. My heart pounds a primal rhythm in my chest, urging me to lose myself completely in Marcy. She pulls me closer, her eyes dark and wild with need, and I realize I’m not the only one who’s been desperate for this moment.
