Page 55 of Muzzled

He pulled her forward instantaneously, pushing the cups of her bra down with one hand as he unzipped his jeans with the other, groaning against her skin when she wrapped her hand around his hard-on and lowered her hips. She eased onto him slowly, her head falling back as his tongue flicked one nipple and his thumb grazed the other, gently teasing her already primed body.

When his hips lifted to hers, she grabbed his wrists and placed them behind his head. “I thought we agreed I’d be taking the reins.” His amber eye darkened to the same shade as his other one and she leaned over him, letting her hair fall forward to block his view of the flats. “Stop looking over there. If anyone walks by, I’ll tell them I’m giving you CPR.”

His laugh morphed into a moan as she swiveled her hips, his hands grasping at the blanket around her. “You really need to not do that,” he grunted, releasing the fabric as she placed his arms back over his head.

“And you need to lay back and relax,” she replied, wrapping her fingers around his wrists for leverage. “You’re so damn wound, I keep waiting for you to spontaneously combust.”

His hips pushed up as he swallowed hard, his fingers flexing while she held him down. “You’re definitely helping that along.” When she increased her speed, his back arched, throwing her momentum for a moment before she doubled down, fascinated with the amount of tension in his body. “Dammit, Micah,” he exhaled, locking his hands together, his knuckles whitening as he dug his heels into the ground.

She pushed the blanket off her shoulders and leaned back, gripping his legs as his hips bucked and he released inside her with a groan, bringing his hands to her waist to steady her. As he came down from his high, she watched as all tension drained from his face and body, his breathing deep and raspy. Hiking the blanket over them, she lay on his chest and focused on the steady thumping of his heart.

“Micah?” he muttered, his long arms draping across her back as he drew circles along her spine. “You’re going to keep us in check, right?”

She smiled, tracing his jaw with her thumb. “Promise. I’m the queen of detachment.”

He tightened his hold on her and glanced across the flats, scanning the darkness for lurkers. “Yeah, well, I used to be the king of it.”

*

Ryan smacked theblanket against the fence post before he balled it up and crammed it into the trunk beside the other one, vowing to add them to his laundry drop-off on Monday.

Micah ducked under his arms to grab a water bottle from the cooler before they hit the road, bending forward far more than necessary and pushing her ass against him. She looked over her shoulder and wiggled, smiling when his body reacted. “Ready to go?” she asked as she straightened and turned to face him, slipping her hand up his shirt.

“I was,” he muttered, reaching behind her to close the trunk. “Now I’m ready to camp out here until dawn.”

Giving his chest a quick tap, she skipped to the passenger side and got in, a glint in her eye as he sat down and closed the door. Plucking his keys from his hand, she crawled on top of him and kissed him. “We don’t have to go home right away,” she murmured, trailing her lips to his ear. “I haven’t had a curfew since I was twelve.”

He dropped his hand to the side of his seat and reclined them back, giving them slightly more mobility in the cramped space. “I’ve never made out in a car,” he mused, inching his fingers up her shirt. “Not comfortable at all, is it?”

“Not a bit,” she breathed into his ear, sending a shiver through his body. “It’s hot, awkward, and your knees are always digging into something hard.” She swiped her tongue across his throat and kissed her way to his lips. “Want to stop?”

“No. Way,” he growled as she ground against him, his lust spiking when she nipped at him. His elbow bounced off the armrest while he maneuvered his way around her ribs toward her breast, all pain erased from memory when he made contact with her smooth skin. “Anyone ever tell you you’re addicting?”

She inhaled sharply as his thumb skimmed her nipple, her eyes closing. “Not until tonight.” She sighed, dropping her head to his shoulder when he began to gently thrust against her. “I—”

A beam of light flashed through the car, temporarily blinding him. She pushed off him, scrambling into the passenger seat as he flung the driver’s side door open, prepared to fight.

“Sir? We’re going to need you to get back in the vehicle,” a man called out, the shadowed form becoming more detailed as his eyes adjusted to the flashlight aimed at him. “We’re just patrolling the area. Any drugs or alcohol in the car?”

He could hear Micah stifling a laugh as the officer came closer, amusement on his face. “No, sir,” he muttered, flopping into his seat as adrenaline coursed through his veins. “We were just—”

“Word of advice,” the policeman said, his partner peering in the passenger window at Micah and giving her a smile. “This park and lot are technically closed at ten. If you need a little more time, you’ll have to go another five minutes down the road.”

He could see Micah covering her mouth, her eyes tearing up. “Thank you, sir. We’ll head out now.”

The officer ducked down and waved at Micah. “You two have a good night.”

“You, too,” he huffed, pulling the door closed as she dissolved beside him. When the police honked their horn as they backed out of the lot, she fell forward over her knees, her shoulders heaving while he started the car. “Of course you think that was funny,” he grumbled, signaling before he turned onto the quiet road. “You weren’t standing out there at full-mast with a flashlight shining on your junk.” When she replied with nothing more than a howl of laughter, he bit back a smile. “So, I’m thinking I need a little more time. Your place or mine?”

Chapter Twenty-One

Ryan trailed hisfingers over Micah’s bare shoulder and pulled the blanket up under her chin as he rolled onto his back.

In twenty-four hours, the twins would be descending on the city, and the hunt would take on a renewed urgency. A renewed urgency, paired with three trackers who would inevitably bring the Pirithous hunt to its final—and likely bloody—end.

He glanced over at her, the rising tension in his head easing until his thoughts began barreling toward leaving, toward his return to life underground, where there were no sagging motel room mattresses, no paisley curtains blocking the reality of outside, and no Micah.

Slipping from the bed, he got to work prepping the coffee, knowing she would need to be up soon to prepare for the ten-day festival hitting the street that evening. He kept his movements slow and deliberate, hoping to delay the moment they would leave the room and reenter their lives.

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