The seat creaks as he pushes it back, giving me room, and my dress rides up as I shift my weight. He groans into my mouth when our bodies align.
“Jesus,fuck, Pipes,” he breathes.
“I’m blaming the rain.”
He grins. “Blame whatever you want. Just don’t stop.”
I won’t.
Ican’t.
The windows fog so fast it feels like the car is breathing with us. My hands are on his chest, his neck, his face, anywhere I can touch. His mouth is hot and desperate on mine. We kiss like we’re trying to undo everything. Or maybe do it all over again.
I roll my hips once, and he curses into my mouth.
“You’re soaked,” he growls.
“Rain,” I lie, breath hitching.
His hand slips under my dress, dragging it up my thighs, and I thank every higher power that I wore this stupid cotton thing. No buttons or zippers, just thin, clinging fabric and zero barriers.
“God bless summer dresses,” he mutters, as if reading my mind.
“I know, right?”
He grabs my ass, grinds me down on him, and we both groan. His cock is already hard beneath me, pressing against my soaked underwear.
I rock again. “Need you inside me.”
That wrecks him.
He shoves my underwear aside, fingers dragging through me, and groans like he’s in pain. “You’re so fucking wet.”
This time, it has nothing to do with the storm.
“Mmm,” I moan.
His eyes flash.
One hand grips my waist, the other fumbles between us to unzip and free himself, and then he’s there. Hot and hard and pressed right where I need him. My breath stutters as my body clenches.
I lift my hips, and he lines us up.
With a deep inhale, I sink down.
We both go still.
“Griffin,” I breathe.
“Jesus Christ,” he curses, hands gripping my hips.
It’s fast and deep and full. Every inch of him, thick and pulsing. I brace my hands on his shoulders, forehead falling to his as I start to move. It’s slow at first, but it doesn’t stay that way.
It can’t.
The moment the friction hits just right, I let out a sound I don’t recognize. He bites it back with a kiss, hand sliding up to cup my jaw.
“God, Piper.”
