Chapter 40
Forty
By the time we’ve eaten greasy food, swallowed enough water to rehydrate a horse, and taken a shower, I start to feel human again.
My hair is damp, but my brain has stopped protesting the sunlight. Today is day two. The last day. The festival ends early, but the town stays awake for it. Bars, music, people dancing in doorways. It’s tradition, and I’m in no mood to break it.
Right now, though, I’m back in the tent, lying flat on my back, staring at the canvas ceiling. I’m drifting, letting my eyes close.
The zipper of the tent opens. Griffin crawls in on long limbs and low groans.
I smile without opening my eyes. “I’m just resting my eyes.”
“Yeah,” he says, collapsing beside me. “Me too.”
Outside, I hear the world. The thump of a bass line from a sound check. Girls laughing. Tents zipping and unzipping.
I blink my eyes open. Griffin is propped on one elbow, looking at me.
I groan and cover my face. “Don’t look at me. I’m a disaster.”
He doesn’t listen. He never does.
Catching my wrists, he pulls my hands away from my face, then lifts one of them and presses his mouth to my knuckles.
My breath catches. I lift my hand, gently running my thumb over his mouth. His lower lip feels warm and soft. Something tightens deep in my stomach, replacing the last remnants of my hangover with something much more dangerous.
He watches me. He watches my mouth and the way my breathing changes. I try to stay still, but my hips shift.
His fingers skim up my bare arm, and my skin tingles at the contact. He reaches the strap of my dress and follows it across my shoulder, then lower until his fingers brush across my breast.
My nipple tightens instantly.
“Griff—” I whisper.
He leans in, his mouth at my ear. “Yeah?”
My thighs instinctively press together. He slides his hand down, finds the first button on my dress, and opens it. The air touches my skin. The next button follows, then the next. My chest is exposed beneath him, skin hot and sensitive. My heartbeat pounds so violently I can feel it everywhere.
His mouth drags down my throat, so I tilt my head back to grant him more access. I bite my lip to keep a sound from slipping out, but he pulls that lip free with his tongue, a slow sweep that wipes out every thought I’ve ever had.
His mouth moves down my chest, my stomach. When he settles between my legs, I exhale before he presses his mouth over me through my underwear.
He murmurs something against me that I feel more than hear. My thighs tremble as his fingers slip under the waistband. He slides against me, not inside yet, but enough to make my breath break apart.
He strokes me again, slower this time. A press. A drag. My head falls back.
“Come here,” he says softly. “I want to feel you.”
His fingers tease me again, right at the edge of where I’m desperate for him, and the tension in my belly pulls hard. Then, finally, he slides a finger inside me.
My breath fractures. “Ah,” I gasp.
He watches my face like he’s memorizing it. His finger curls, presses just right, and my hips jerk up off the ground.
“Stay,” he murmurs, his free hand pressing my hip back down. “I want you right here.”
I nod, too breathless to speak. He adds another finger, and my whole body tightens around him with a clench that makes him hiss.
“Fuck,” he says quietly. “That feel good?”
“Yes,” I breathe. “God, yes.”
He pumps his fingers slowly, his thumb brushing my clit once, barely there, and my back arches hard.
I open my eyes to find him already watching me.
“Keep them open,” he says. “I want to see you.”
I do, but the pressure builds fast, coiling low in my belly. His fingers curl again, deeper, and my eyes flutter closed.
He stops his movements.
I gasp, eyes snapping open. “Griffin—”
“Uh-uh. Look at me.”
I do, because I’m desperate and burning. Only then does he move again with slow, deep strokes. Every nerve feels exposed.
His fingers work me open while his thumb presses in tight circles that make my vision blur.
“You’re clenching around me so fucking tight,” he rasps.
I am. I’m right there. My body tightens, a sharp clench that pulls a low sound from his chest.
“There it is,” he says. “You feel that?”
“Yes,” I gasp. “I—yes—Griffin.”
“Come all over my fingers,” he tells me. “I’ve got you.”
The pressure snaps, white-hot and overwhelming. I come hard, my body locking around his fingers. He doesn’t stop. He rides it out with me, murmuring my name, his thumb still moving until the tremors fade and I go boneless.
He presses a kiss to my stomach, then my ribs, then my throat.
Something in me snaps. I want to wreck him back.
I drag in a breath and whisper, “My turn.”
I roll him onto his back before he can overthink it. My dress is still pushed up around my waist, so I take the opportunity and climb over him, palms on his chest. His skin is warm and slick, his heart beating hard.
I kiss my way down his stomach, loving the way his abs twitch under my mouth. His jeans are half-undone. I glance up, and he’s watching me like he doesn’t know if he should stop me or beg me to keep going.
Sliding my hands under the waistband of his jeans, I tug everything down and free him. He’s thick and hard as I wrap my hand around him and stroke.
“Fuck,” he hisses.
I lower my head and take him into my mouth. It’s slow at first. I hollow my cheeks, tongue swirling, and he fists the blanket.
“God, baby,” he groans. “That mouth—fuck.”
I hum around him as his hand flies to my hair. Taking more, I look up and meet his eyes.
“Eyes on me,” I whisper around him.
His entire body shudders. “Fuck—Piper—I’m not gonna last.”
I suck him deeper, and he loses it.
He’s right on the edge, his breath hitching in a way that says he’s done, but just when I think I’ve gotten my way, he grabs my waist and hauls me up until I’m straddling him.
He reaches between us, pulls my underwear aside with one hand, and guides himself in.
Thrusting up, he buries himself deep inside me in one sharp move. I gasp, my hands flying to his shoulders for balance. He’s so hard, and he fucks me that way—rough, fast, and completely focused on the way our eyes are locked together.
It’s not the slow, testing rhythm from before. This is grounding and heavy. He pulls me down as he thrusts, meeting me halfway with a force that makes my vision go hazy at the edges.
“Griff,” I choke out, my fingers digging into the hard muscle of his shoulders.
“I’ve got you,” he mutters against my skin. “Just stay right there.”
I move with him, finding a rhythm that feels like a collision. Every time his hips hit mine, it’s a jolt of sensation that travels straight to my spine. He cups the back of my neck, pulling me down until my mouth is inches from his.
He’s watching me again. He’s always watching.
“Piper,” he says, his breath hot against my lips. “Tell me.”
“Everything,” I breathe. “I feel everything.”
He thrusts deeper, harder, his jaw tight with the effort of holding back.
I can hear the festival outside—the distant bass, the voices—but they feel like they’re happening on a different planet.
Here, in the dim light of the canvas, the only thing that exists is the way he’s filling me and the way my body is screaming for more.
The tension starts to coil again, tighter than before. It’s a sharp heat that builds with every slide of his skin against mine.
Griffin groans as his pace breaks. He loses the control he was clinging to and starts to drive into me with a frantic energy that tells me he’s right on the brink.
The world shatters into bright, white light. I bury my face in the crook of his neck to muffle a scream as the orgasm rips through me, wave after wave of it, my body pulsing around him so hard it’s almost painful.
He pumps one last time, his whole body turning to stone underneath me as he goes over the edge. He holds me there, pinned against him, until the last of the tremors fade and we both collapse into a tangled heap on the floor of the tent.
The silence that follows is deafening.
“Okay,” I whisper into his skin. “Maybe day two is better than day one.”
I feel the vibration of his laugh against my chest. He doesn’t say anything, but he pulls the discarded hoodie over us, tucking me in close.