Chapter 46
PIPER
The windows are rolled down. A cool wind whips through my hair on this hot, humid night while Nash drives us back from the country bar where we just spent the evening dancing to a local band.
Nash’s Adam’s apple bobs underneath his prickly stubble as he sings along to Brand New Man by Brooks & Dunn playing on the radio. I never thought I’d see Nash Miller belting out a country classic with a smile on his lips while driving me down an empty country road.
But I never thought I’d be married to him either, so maybe where Nash Miller is concerned, I should stop being surprised by anything that happens.
My gaze ticks up from his lips mouthing the words of the song to the cowboy hat resting on his head. They were selling them at the bar, and I couldn’t resist buying one for him.
When I planted it on the crown of his head and saw my husband with his scruffy, overdue-for-a-haircut hair spilling from under the brim of a cowboy hat, I almost pushed him down onto the worn wooden floorboards of the bar and rode him like a rodeo while the band played a George Strait classic.
It was hard to resist going through with it, considering how Nash looks tonight.
A pair of blue jeans that frame his ass to perfection.
A plain white t-shirt tucked into the jeans, the sleeves rolled up even more to expose his muscular arms, and the thin fabric stuck to his broad chest from the sweat we worked up on the dance floor.
Cowboy boots on his feet, which I bought him last week, ostensibly as a return present for an absurdly expensive candle he heard me talking about, but really because I wanted to see how he’d look in them.
A hint of cologne that he put on before we left, the citrus and woodsy smell making my blood heat with every inhale.
I remember the way he dipped me low on the dance floor at the end of the last song the band played, dizziness and endorphins flooding my brain when he lifted me back up and I plastered myself to his heaving chest. A wave of arousal washes over me at the memory, pinching my nipples and gathering wet heat between my thighs.
“Pull over,” I say to Nash, succumbing to the idea that just entered my mind before I can think better of it.
“Huh?”
“Pull over.”
He does so, maneuvering the car onto the dusty dirt shoulder of the long, empty country road.
“What’s wrong?” he asks.
I answer him by leaning over and pressing my lips to his, plunging us into a consuming kiss. There’s no finesse or gentleness as my lips lap at his, quickly drawing his bottom one between my teeth and biting it.
He groans into my mouth. His tongue presses between my lips and tangles with my own.
Our lips and tongues gorge themselves on our feel and taste.
Just when I wish he would, Nash’s hands grip my hips, and he lifts me and settles me on his lap, where I feel his throbbing cock pressing against the confines of his denim.
His lips drag a hot trail along my jaw and neck, his sharp stubble scraping against my skin in the most delicious way.
“Fuck, baby,” he rasps in my ear. A shiver sweeps through me at the word he’s never called me before. I wouldn’t mind hearing a lot more of it. “You’re making it hard as fuck to wait until we get home.”
“Let’s not wait, then,” I whisper into the over-heated truck cabin as his stubble brushes against the most sensitive part of my neck.
His cock jumps in his pants, hitting the seam of my jeans as I straddle him.
“Right here?” he asks, excitement and arousal ringing in the question.
“In the back,” I say. “We still have the blanket in here.”
I’m looking at the shopping bag tucked behind the passenger seat.
We went shopping for a couple household odds and ends about two weeks ago, and I spotted a quilt I really liked.
I’m thanking my lucky stars I never ended up bringing it in the house.
Maybe there was something in the back of my mind that knew it could be useful keeping it in the truck for a time like this.
A tortured groan pulls from Nash’s throat. “Baby, are you seriously asking me to fuck you in the bed of my truck on the side of the road?”
There’s that word again. Baby. Sparks riot through my bloodstream.
“If that’s a little too naughty for your strait-laced sensibilities—”
Nash cuts off my tease by kicking his driver’s side door open and swinging us both out. I gasp a laugh and curl my legs around his waist for stability as he hops out of his seat and walks us to the tailgate.
He lets it down and sets me on it, our lips still working against each other’s.
I remember the last time I sat on his tailgate, wearing my wedding dress, when Nash got down on one knee and proposed.
A sentimental warmth curls through me at the memory.
It wrenches the desire for Nash that I have right now up a couple more notches.
I scoot back on my butt, curling my hands into the fabric of Nash’s shirt and pulling him deeper into the truck bed along with me.
“If we get arrested, I’m telling them it was your idea,” Nash teases as I lie down, his broad frame looming over me.
Nash’s cowboy hat is jaunty on his head from our messy kiss. Above him, the moon is silvery and bright, with wispy clouds swimming over it. The air is still and humid, carrying a sticky heat that only makes me more eager to get both of us out of these clothes.
I’m pretty sure no one else is going to be driving up or down this road at this time of night. Nash and I have driven it several times, and we rarely pass another car even during the day. But the possibility adds an edge of danger that sharpens the excitement and thrill pounding through me.
“If you do that, I’ll flirt with the cops to get out of it and leave you to take all the charges,” I tease back before snagging his bottom lip in my teeth again.
A growl of jealousy rumbles through him, his chest vibrating against my tits with the deep sound.
“I’ll take full responsibility, then,” Nash says wryly, kicking off his boots. “I’ll take a public indecency charge over seeing my wife flirt with another man any day of the week.”
Our clothes get stripped off in a whirlwind of tangled limbs. We spread the blanket out on the bed of the truck, and I press my hands onto the hard slab of Nash’s chest to push him onto his back.
I reach for the cowboy hat at our side and drop it onto the top of my head before I swing my leg over Nash’s hips and straddle him.
“Fucking hell, Piper.” Nash’s eyes press shut, almost like he’s in pain. “If you’re really planning on riding me while wearing that cowboy hat, you can’t hold it against me if I don’t last two minutes.”
“Come on, cowboy,” I say, a challenging grin slanting my lips. “Have a little more fight in you than that.”
Nash’s nostrils flare, and he plants his hands on the sides of my hips. My stomach tilts as Nash lifts me up, hoisting me in the air so his hard cock lines up with my opening.
My eyes roll as I ease myself onto him. My walls stretch around him, and the sensation of utter fullness sends a heady wave of satisfaction rolling through me.
I hum with pleasure as I get into a rhythm, bouncing on his hips and spearing myself with his thick length. Nash’s fingers knead into the softness of my hips as he throws his head back, and I watch the bulge of his Adam’s apple jump in his throat.
My eyes feast on the sight of Nash’s body laid out underneath me.
The rounded curve of his shoulders, the broad planes of his chest, the sharp, defined cut of his abs that ripple as I ride him.
His beautiful physique is bathed in silvery moonlight, and as sweat breaks out across his skin, the droplets glimmer in it.
The air tonight is humid and sticky, and a sheen of sweat quickly works its way over my naked body.
I lift my arm to grab hold of the brim of Nash’s cowboy hat.
Nash’s eyes flash at the sight, intensity sharpening the hard lines of his face.
He slaps his hands onto my ass, the sound of his palm against my sweaty skin making a sharp thwack.
He grabs hold and starts to pump his hips, making an obscene slapping sound as he meets my bounces with his thrusts.
“Ride me, baby,” Nash says. “Ride me like a good cowgirl.”
One hand still rests on the brim of the hat, the other planted on Nash’s sweat-slicked chest for balance. A breeze rustles over the plain. The cool wind is a blissful relief against my hot, buzzing skin as we work up a sultry heat between us.
A ball of pressure swells in my core, growing as I ride Nash like a bucking bronco. Nash brings his right hand to my front, rubbing my clit with his thumb, and the pressure increases tenfold.
“Oooh,” I moan in pure ecstasy, rolling my hips into his touch. “That’s so fucking good, Nash.”
“Fuck, baby, you’re so close. I can feel you clenching around me.”
He’s right. I’m right at the edge of release, but I’m trying to hold it back, loving how this feels too much to want it to be over.
Somewhere in the distance, across the planes, I see two specks of light.
Car headlights. Maybe someone driving around on some land they own out on the plane, or on a far-off road.
The road we’re pulled to the side of is still silent and empty, but seeing some signs of life out here while I’m riding my husband in the bed of his truck has excitement swooping through my chest.
The pad of Nash’s thumb angles against my clit in just the right way that I can’t hold back my climax any longer. All-consuming pleasure unfurls through me. My spine feels like jelly as I shudder over Nash, coming undone as he draws slow circles over my clit to extend my orgasm.
Just as I crest over the peak, I feel Nash’s release gush into me. His muscles flex and strain, glittering as the moonlight dances on his body.
Another refreshing breeze sweeps over us as we come down. It’s unspeakably delightful, feeling the gentle wind cool my body while endorphins flood my brain and calm satisfaction spreads through me.
Nash and I lay next to each other on the blanket afterward. We don’t keep track of time, we don’t worry about someone driving by. We just lay, twined together, looking up at the bright moon and the dark sky, caressed by the occasional breeze to refresh the hot night.
My heart is so full of emotion that it’s a paradox how it feels light instead of heavy.
There’s one emotion sitting in it that’s growing harder not to name. It’s an emotion that a wife is supposed to feel for her husband.
I wonder if Nash’s heart is starting to carry that same emotion. When I brush my hand over his chest, right over where that heart beats, hope blooms through me that maybe it is.