My hands roam her sweater, first over the top then under it, my calloused palms caressing the smooth skin of her stomach. It’s not flat, not toned—it’s soft and silky and perfect.
I groan. “Piper, I can make you come.”
“Oh Jesus, Ryder,” she whispers. “I…”
I don’t want to push her—I just want my tongue inside her pussy. I want to smell her. Taste her.
Listen to her gasp, all in the back seat of my truck.
“Is that a yes?”
“Um…”
“You like that word, don’t you? You say it a lot.”
I fiddle with the tiny metal charm on the front of her bra. I have no idea what shape it is, but it feels like a heart.
The pad of my index and middle fingers skim the swell of her breast.
“Um…okay.”
She’s off her feet and in my arms and I’m yanking the back door open, setting her on the fabric, pulling her ass to the edge of the seat, already at work unbuttoning her jeans.
“Oh Jesus,” she says again, watching my handiwork. “You were serious.”
“I’ve been daydreaming about this pussy for months—maybe years.”
“You h-have?” Her words come out as a breath, her eyes fastened on my deft fingers as they pull down her zipper. Expose the pale pink underwear she’s got on beneath. “Y-You’re not going to leave the door open, are you?”
No, but I have to get her pants off before I close it.
I remove her shoes then pull the denim down her hips. Step up onto the siderail of the truck before sliding my hands under her ass and heave, moving Piper farther onto the seat. Wedge my giant body all the way in before shutting the door behind me.
Piper is breathing hard, one hand up on the back of the seat, the other on the passenger side headrest.
Watching me, eyes fixated on mine.
I smile.
Bend.
Use my hands to spread her legs apart, as wide as I can get them in the confined space. Run both of my palms down her inner thighs, skimming lightly all the way to her bikini line.
Let my thumb stroke slowly up the middle of her pussy, over the thin satin thong she has on.
She’s breathing harder now, anticipation dilating her pupils. I can see it under the lights in the parking lot.
“I’ve never…no one has ever…”
Perfect.
That means she’s mine…all mine.
I dip my wide shoulders, wedging myself between her legs, propping them open. Take one of her feet and put it on my shoulder, the other on the center console between the front seats.
Stroke up and down the middle of her with my thumb.
Up.
Down.
Up.
Down.
“Mmm…” she moans, her white teeth biting down on her bottom lip.
I use the thumb of my other hand to hook the fabric of her thong, pulling it to the side. Spread the lips of her pussy and—
“Oh God, Ryder…” comes her surprised gasp. “Shit, what are you doing?”
I lick slowly to get her warmed up, tongue barely touching her clit. Flatten it, licking her again, moving my head from side to side, burying it deep.
Licking. Sucking.
Wet. Hot.
Insert one finger, then another, until Piper’s sweet little ass is wriggling on the seat. Her delicious ass.
I bear down, sucking hard on her clit, thumb moving in circles at the top of her pussy, the smell of her driving me fucking crazy.
“I…I…”
She’s gonna come, I can feel it against my mouth. The tiny vibrations slowly gathering and building in her pelvis until it begins to quiver. Her thighs shake a little, and she shoves at my shoulders, pushing herself back—but I don’t let her get away.
I’m going to suck the life out of her orgasm if it’s the last goddamn thing I do.
“Ryder, Ryder, oh my god…” Her moany little sex noises are loud and lustful, filling the cab of my truck when she comes, head tipped back and mouth open.
I kiss her—not her pussy, her mouth—so she can taste herself.
Piper kisses me back, dragging her tongue along my bottom lip and sucking. Pecks me on the chin before I pull away, satisfied and wiping my mouth.
“I’ve never done that before,” she admits, still lying there, half undressed.
“Done what?”
“Had a guy…”
“Go down on you?”
“Yeah.”
She’s embarrassed, but for me, it’s a total turn-on.
I run my hands up her legs again, massaging her calves, glancing around for her underwear.
They’ve gotta be here somewhere…
Chapter Five
Piper
I don’t have to wonder long if he’s ever going to call or text me again, don’t have to wonder long if Ryder Williams is the nail-’em-and-bail-’em type of guy.
Because before I’m even walking in the door of my house, my phone chimes. It’s him.
Ryder: I can still smell you.
* * *
Me: My perfume?
* * *
Ryder: No. YOU.
Me? I don’t get it, cocking my head to the side as I try to figure out what he’s talking about. If it’s not my perfume he can still smell, what else could he mean?