It was on settling in the back that I saw Zac and my helmets sitting in the middle of the bench seat. How could I have forgotten that part of my costume? I'd spent hours taming my crazy curls, and for nought.
Oh, that's right, too busy worrying about what Zac will think of what's underneath the baked potato. On the drive into town, Zac makes us both put our helmets on, carrying out tests to check they still work.
They work alright! It's as if Zac is whispering in my ear, leaving me hot enough that it's a good thing I'm foil-wrapped. Add some butter and call me done. I know he's feeling the same way when he slides his visor up and I see his face.
His gaze remains locked with mine longer than necessary, the electricity between us palpable. I can't wait to see his reaction when I reveal my surprise.
With the float in position, Zac climbs onto the rocket, straddling it and putting his feet on the plates he'd welded in place. The last thing he does is drape the Stars and Stripes around his shoulders.
Meanwhile, I stay where I am, waiting until right before the parade starts, with this arriving all too soon. A sharp tug on the Velcro tabs and the baked potato opens to reveal the stunning ensemble hidden beneath.
After stuffing the yards of silver foil in the back of the truck, I climb aboard the float. With his visor still in the UP position, I'm able to see Zac's eyes widen and his jaw drop in astonishment.
There's also no missing what he says under his breath. After bouncing around in my helmet, his dirty promise then heads straight for places it's no right to. Well, not when we're out in public.
It's at this point that I notice something I'd missed earlier, and that's the placement of the second set of footplates.
He wants me riding in front of him, rather than pillion? Ah, no way. My body isn't ready for that sort of contact. I motion for him to move forward, but he's not budging.
"Hell no, sweetheart," whispers Zac, his words clear in my helmet. "No way am I riding a rocket through the middle of Coogan's Break sporting a woody." This image first tickles my brain, before working its way into my subconscious.
It's also something that has me giving thanks there are no kids on the float today. And not the first time I've thought this, either. Organizing the neighborhood kids would have been like herding cats.
Short of standing there arguing with him when the parade organizers are yelling for floats to get moving, I straddle the rocket in front of him. The moment my ass settles into his groin, I realize the parade will be both heaven and hell.
ZAC
I've expected a lot of things riding the rocket with Kelly, none of which has come to pass, although I'm about to.
Her ass jammed hard against my cock, my hands resting on her thighs, and I'm close to losing it. And I can tell by the way she's squirming that I'm not alone in my arousal.
I'm thinking it can't get worse when my foot taps the pedal that operates the gas struts and the front of the rocket jerks upward, before hissing back down.
"Oh, jeez." I risk taking one of my hands off Kelly's thighs to slide my visor down into place. Soon enough, I repeat the action with hers.
When my girl stiffens and forms a perfect 'O' in the middle of the Independence Day Parade, I want to be the only one to know what's happening. It's a thought that has me putting my hand back on her thigh, a little higher than before, and squeezing.
There's no missing her sharp intake of breath, with this audible through the helmet comms.
"Like that, do you?" I hit the gas strut pedal again. "Imagine if I was buried deep inside you right now?"
She gasps in response before adding, "Zac, don't."
Her words lack conviction, egging me on.
If I thought she was squirming before, it's nothing compared to now, with her ass working its magic on my cock. When Clive turns my truck onto Main Street, even my senses are overwhelmed.
While the continued rise and fall of the rocket has Kelly jammed hard up against me, the street is lined with people six-deep on either side. It's as if all eyes are on us. It's as if everyone knows.
"Oh, damn, baby. I hope you taped your nipples because I'll bet they're good and puckered."
It's not that I've ever considered an audience before, but the risk of being caught doing something bad adds a certain edge to proceedings. It's a thought that has me tapping the gas strut pedal twice in quick succession, being rewarded by Kelly moaning in my ear.
Hmmm, nope, I'm not alone. There's also never been a better time to tell her how I feel. I can deal with the fallout when the parade ends.
"Kelly, say nothing. Just hear me out, okay?"
Rather than answer, she jerks her head, the back of her helmet clunking against the visor of mine.
