Chapter 14 #2
I trail kisses along his jawline, then up to his ear, nibbling gently on the lobe. His hands tighten on the steering wheel as he shifts gears around a sharp bend that helps me slide even closer.
I slide my hand down his chest, over his stomach, lower still. "Keep your eyes on the road."
"Piper," he warns, voice going rough. "I'm driving."
I stick my tongue between my teeth and giggle. Reaching over, my palm finds the hard ridge of him through his jeans, and I squeeze.
He groans, deep and guttural, his hips jerking slightly. "Jesus Christ."
"Something wrong?" I ask innocently, squeezing and stroking him through the denim.
"Yes. You're going to make me crash this truck."
"Then you better drive carefully." I palm him again, feeling him grow harder beneath my touch. My fingers twist the button at his waist, unhooking it to loosen his jeans. "Wouldn't want anything to happen to us before we get to your apartment."
His jaw clenches, knuckles white on the steering wheel. "You're evil."
"You missed me."
"I really did," he admits, voice strained. "But we're still ten minutes from home, and if you keep that up—"
I squeeze again, diving my hand into his underwear so my cool palm hits the warmth of his hard cock. He swears colourfully, struggling to focus on the road.
"Ten minutes?" I tease, grinning wickedly. "I better hurry then."
I lean down, sliding my mouth over him in one smooth motion.
The first taste of his dick floods my senses, all salty and masculine musk. I swirl my tongue around the thick head, tracing the ridge before shifting closer in my seat, allowing myself to take him deeper.
His cock fills my mouth and I hollow my cheeks as I suck hard.
"Fuck, Piper—" His voice breaks, hips jerking beneath me.
The truck engine rumbles beneath us, vibrating through the seat as I work him with lips and tongue. I pull back with a wet pop, admiring the way his cock glistens before I lick a slow stripe from base to tip, running my hand along the impressive length.
"Christ—you can't—" He grips the steering wheel so hard I hear the leather creak. "Piper—"
I take him deeper this time, relaxing my throat until he hits the back of it. The slight gag makes my eyes water, but I love it—love the thickness of him, the way he stretches my mouth, the desperate sounds spilling from his lips as I bob my head up and down, choking myself with his cock.
His hand tangles in my hair, not pulling, just holding on like I'm the only thing keeping him tethered to earth.
"When we get home," he grits out, voice rough and wrecked, "I'm bending you over every surface in that apartment."
The filthy promise sends heat pooling between my thighs. I moan around him, the vibration making him swear again, and take him even deeper. My nose brushes the coarse hair at his base as I swallow around him.
"Jesus—Piper—"
The truck slows, his foot clearly easing off the accelerator. His hips lift off the seat, pushing deeper, and his grip in my hair tightens, guiding my movements. I surrender to it, letting him use my mouth, loving how undone he sounds.
"Gonna—fuck—"
His cock pulses in my hand, flooding my mouth with spurts of his deliciously salty release. I swallow it down, greedy for every drop, moaning and working him through it until he's shuddering and spent.
When I finally pull off, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, he's staring at me like I've just performed a miracle.
"You," he rasps, shaking his head with a smile. "I'm so happy you're back."
I tuck myself back into the passenger seat, still tasting him on my lips, warmth spreading through my chest that has nothing to do with what just happened and everything to do with being here—back in Stone River, away from Mother's icy disapproval and Saturday's looming disaster.
Next weekend's gala event flashes through my mind again. The preparations, the beautiful gown, the fact that I won't be—
No. We're not doing this all weekend, Piper.
I shut that thought down before it can take root. Not this weekend. This weekend belongs to us. To this.
Chase shifts in his seat, adjusting himself with a satisfied groan, and I glance up through the windshield expecting to see his apartment building.
Instead, The Bear Paw Café's faded green awning fills my vision.
"I thought we were going to your apartment?" I sit up straighter, taking in the scene beyond the glass.
Main Street looks like someone detonated a small town festival.
Colorful tents dot the parking lot, strings of bunting stretch between lampposts, and people mill everywhere with steaming bowls and tasting spoons.
The scent of roasting peppers and cumin drifts through the truck's vents, making my stomach growl.
Chase grins beside me, that up-to-no-good expression making my stomach flip.
"Chase Morrison." I swat his arm. "What's going on?"
His grin widens. "Surprise?"
Before he can elaborate, Charlie streaks across the parking lot balancing an enormous cast-iron pot against his chest, the contents sloshing dangerously.
He's wearing an apron that reads KISS THE COOK OR TASTE THE CONSEQUENCES and dodging Betty, who's chasing him with a wooden spoon raised like a weapon.
"You add beans to my chili station, Charles Finnegan, and I'll ban you from my café for a month!" Betty's voice carries across the lot.
"It's called innovation, Betty!"
"It's called blasphemy!"
I watch them disappear behind a tent. "Okay. What on earth is all of this?"
"Have you ever cooked chili before?" Chase asks, all casual innocence.
I turn to stare at him. "I've never even eaten chili."
His eyebrows shoot up. "Seriously?"
"Serious. Mom considers it pedestrian cuisine." I make air quotes, then narrow my eyes at his expression. "Why are you asking me this?"
Chase kills the engine, that grin returning full force. "Well, Betty's expecting big things from you today." He gestures toward the chaos outside. "Welcome to Stone River Mountain's Annual Chili Cook-Off."
My brain explodes. "The what?"
"Chili. Cook-Off." He enunciates each word like I'm hard of hearing. "It's tradition. Everyone competes. There are categories—Classic, Spicy, Vegetarian, Wild Card. Betty's been talking about entering you all week, so I gave in and signed you up."
"But I—I can't—I don't even know what goes in chili!"
"Meat. Peppers. Bad attitude." He shrugs like it's the simplest thing in the world. "You'll figure it out."
Through the window, I spot Etta and Mabel setting up a judging table, both wearing sashes that read OFFICIAL TASTE TESTERS.
Officer Sam Cooper struggles past with a crate of tomatoes.
Knox and Travis appear to be having a heated argument over a bag of spices before they notice Chase's truck and wave us over.
This town. This ridiculous, wonderful, completely insane town.
I look at Chase, at his warm hazel eyes and infectious smile, at the way he's watching me like my reaction is the best entertainment he's had all week.
"I'm going to be terrible at this," I tell him.
"I know." He leans across and kisses my cheek softly. "That's what makes it fun."
Chase rounds the truck and opens my door, extending his hand like I'm stepping onto a red carpet instead of cracked asphalt.
I take it, letting him pull me down. My suitcase stays abandoned in the truck bed as Betty sees me across the parking lot.
She beams and starts waving me over with flour-dusted enthusiasm, more joy and happiness to see me than I've ever received from my own mother on her face.
Charlie's escaped her wrath and is grinning behind a tent flap, holding his arm up in a casual wave. Knox holds up a suspiciously large bottle of hot sauce, and Travis is already shouting something about team strategy.
Chase's hand finds the small of my back, warm and steady as we move towards the chaos.
Standing here in my thousand-dollar jeans and my mud-streaked teal hiking boots, about to make an absolute fool of myself cooking something I've never even tasted, surrounded by people who genuinely want me here…
Chase is right. This is home.
And perhaps, after next weekend, I'll never have to leave again.