Page 124 of Go Find Less

Control. I need control, or I’m going to last two seconds.

I slide one arm forward, fingers finding the hair at the base of her neck and pulling her back. She starts to say something, something loud, and I press a finger to her lips. Her hands find my shoulder, my forearm in front of her as she’s pressed against me, her position making everythingso fucking tight.

“It would be one hell of a first impression if your parents walk upstairs to find us like this,” I manage, and her chest shakes against my forearms. I tighten my hold on her hair, letting my other hand snake down her collarbone, dipping under the hem of her dress until I can feel one of her taut nipples against my fingers. I pinch it, and she clenches around me. I bite back a moan. “Piper.”

“Hmm?” Her head tilts back against my hand, and I can see that glassy look in her eyes - fuck, just the situation must be turning her on as much as it is me. I run my thumb over her nipple, and she bucks back against me.

“Hey,” I warn in a hoarse whisper, and she bites her lip. Taunting. She’s fucking taunting me. Slowly, I rock back, sliding back into her, and her eyes drift shut, meeting my pace. The hand in her hair slides down, down her shoulder, fingering that painstaking beadwork on her corset, until I can reach around and find her clit with my fingers. She bucks again, and if I didn’t know any better I’d say she’s drawing blood with the way her lip is snagged between her teeth. “We’re gonna go fast and hard, ok?” I feel her head nod against me, and before I can second guess myself, I pull back and thrust into her, building a quick tempo that has the bed shaking.

“Fuck.” Her voice is low and breathy, and she writhes into my hands, her fingers locking into my hair. God, at this angle, everything is so tight, so close, my heart is pounding and all I can do is watch as her face contorts in wry pleasure.

She deserves this. Deserves every second of happiness, of pleasure, of forgetting the rest of the world is there so she can just be. And I want to give it to her.

“Tell me you want me,” she whimpers, and it almost makes me pause. Almost - because at this rate, I’m not sure there’s any stopping either of us. But does she really doubt that? Here? In this moment? “Fitz.” I look down, and those blue eyes are staring back up at me.

“Piper, I want you so badly.” Her eyes close for a brief moment, and I pull her closer to my chest with my forearm, pressing my fingers harder into her clit as she writhes against my circles. “More than just like this.” Without opening her eyes, she smirks, and I know she’s picturing all the ways we could be, all the positions we could be in. But I mean so much more than that. “Piper.” My hand travels from her breast up to her chin, tilting her so she’s looking at me again, and her eyes widen. I slow my tempo, just for a minute, to meet her gaze. “I want you. I wantyou.” I tighten my hold. “Not just this.” I push into her clit and she presses her lips into a thin line, but her eyes are sparkling. “I don’t want you to doubt that, to doubt us.”

“Us,” she echoes, and then she’s pulling me down to meet her mouth, tangling my tongue with hers as she rears against me. I pick up the pace again, as fast as I can possibly go without making the whole damn bed move because fuck, it feels so good.

Her kiss becomes more measured, trembling as we continue, and I can tell she’s right on the edge, right where I am, when her fingers in my hair and on my forearm tighten. She tries to pull back, but I don’t let her move, letting the crash of her orgasm and the clench of her around my cock springboard me into the one I’ve been holding back as long as possible.

If I wasn’t kissing her, this whole damn block would hear exactly how much I want Piper Delmonico Davis.

Chapter 47

Piper

MyfathermaylikeFitz more than I do, it seems. Or, at least, that’s the impression I get when he stares longingly after us as we pull out of their driveway in Fitz’s car. I can see him in the side mirror, one hand around my mother’s waist, but his gaze is firmly planted on the beauty we’re riding in.

I can’t say I blame him.

We turn out of my parents’ neighborhood, I look at Fitz in the driver’s seat, saying “I thought we were going to have to wipe away his drool.” He’s looking at me with that same burning intensity he’d had in my bedroom.

Well, my childhood bedroom.

Which was a whole different level of kinky I had not been expecting tonight. Zero percent, did I think that I’d be leaving the evening thoroughly fucked and trying not to make mooney eyes at Fitz Westfall when I followed him down the stairs, but damn, it’s what I did.

“Are you going to tell me where we’re headed?” Fitz asks, lacing his fingers through mine on the top of my thigh. I can’t help but smirk as I look out the window, the streetlights buzzing by as we whip onto the freeway. We have the top up, I don’t have the energy in me to do my hair for a third time today, and despite being the one to tell Fitz to drive the MK to my parents’, I hadn’t thought to bring my hair scarf when riding with Dylan and Carla over here.

“Where would the fun in that be?”

“Rude.”

“Karma.” I squeeze his hand. “Exit 66, it’s just a few miles down.” I see his eyebrows pull together, and he releases me just long enough to shift gears. I love old cars, but driving stick is not something anyone wants me to do. I tried it for approximately ten seconds in Mickey’s Corvette and nearly ground down the gears with the miserable attempt.

I know the second we’re exiting the freeway, he can see where we’re headed. His eyes dart over to me as the bright lights of the speedway come into view. “Drag and Brag.”

I grin up at him. “So smart. Have you been?” He shakes his head, his fingers gripping the steering wheel a little tighter. I panic momentarily. “I wasn’t expecting you to race.”

“It’s not that,” he breathes out, and then looks at me. I must look like a wounded puppy, because my excited face went sad and now he looks concerned, too. “It’s nothing, don’t worry about it.” He reaches out, squeezing my hand again.

“Is it all the people?” Fitz swallows.

“Yeah, the people.” My gut tells me that’s not all, but I don’t press him. I just watch as he gets in line behind other cars entering the speedway, inching forward until we pull up in front of the tattered wooden booth near the entrance. Fitz rolls down the window, and I can already hear cammed engines and cheering.

“Welcome to Lone Star Speedway,” the guy behind the booth starts, and Fitz pulls out his wallet, but I put my hand on his forearm, leaning forward until I can see Josh’s face. “Are we just watching, or-"

He freezes, arms mid-air, as he spies me, and then a grin slides across his face.

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