"I know. I can feel you." He shifted his angle, thrusting deeper, and Riley cried out.
"Right there—don't stop— harder! Fuck!" She threw her head back again, breathing harder and faster as he thrust into her. With her hands on the roof of the truck, her body stretched out before him, she let herself feel him everywhere.
“Look at me, Riley. This is for me. You’re mine.”
“Yes!” she called out, bouncing up and down as he worked her over.
“Say it,” Grant grunted roughly. “Say you belong to me,” he begged, still pounding into her. She was so close.
His possessiveness in this moment stole the last of her constraint. She let go, pulsing around him. “I’m yours, Grant. I’m yours!”
Grant didn't stop. His hands gripped her hips harder, helping her move, his eyes locked on hers, and Riley came apart with his name on her lips, her whole body shaking with the force. She threw her head back again and cried out his name as he finished seconds later, his face buried in her neck, holding her like she was the only thing keeping him grounded.
“Fuck, baby.” He let out a long breath, running his hands up and down her back. “Are you good? Are you okay?” he asked.
This was different.
It was raw. Pure lust. But the kind you could only open yourself up to with the right person.
They stayed like that for a long moment—both trembling, both gasping for air, slowly coming back to earth.
"Holy shit," Riley finally managed.
"Yeah."
She leaned back to look at him, both of them flushed and wrecked and grinning.
"That was?—"
"Yeah."
"I can't believe I said all that," Riley admitted, feeling her face heat.
"I can't believe how hot it was." Grant's smile was soft. "You can say anything to me. Anything. I love hearing what you're thinking. Especially your filthy little thoughts."
Riley kissed him, soft and deep. "Good. Because I have a lot more thoughts I’d like to share."
"Is that a promise?"
"Definitely."
They stayed tangled together for a long moment, neither wanting to move, to break the spell.
Eventually, they had to get dressed—clothes retrieved from various corners of the truck, both of them laughing at the awkwardness of it, the intimacy of helping each other back into sweaters and finding misplaced socks.
Grant drove Riley home, their hands linked across the console the entire way.
He pulled into her driveway and killed the engine.
"Thank you," Riley said quietly. "For tonight."
"For the party or the incredible truck sex?"
"Both."
Grant's laugh was warm. "Anytime."
Riley leaned across the console and kissed him—soft and sweet and full of things she couldn't say yet.
