Page 96 of Puck Your Friend

I glance at the control booth. No movement yet.

Good.

I press my palm against her mound, rubbing her clit with it as I continue to work the rough patch inside her with fast, urging strokes, pushing her towards climax.

Her legs shake and I feel the exact second she tips. Her walls contract.

She clenches down, tight and pulsing. The air leaves her in a grunt. Her legs spasm around my wrist.

I hold her through it, stroking her clit.

The ride lurches as we begin the descent.

I ease my fingers out and wipe them discreetly on my jeans.

She lets go of my shirt, breathless, cheeks flushed a deep pink.

We hit the ground and the bar pops open.

I grab the dog and climb out. Help her down, and quickly use the dog’s backside to wipe the damp spot from the seat.

Frankie clings to my arm. Her legs haven’t caught up yet. She leans close to my ear. “If you don’t take me somewhere right now and fuck me, I might lose it.”

I tuck her under my arm and kiss the side of her head. “Already planned for that, c’mon.” I steer her toward the exit. We make a beeline for my truck.

She climbs in without looking at me, white skirt wrinkled from the ride as I close her in and go to the driver’s side. I toss the stuffed dog into the backseat and shut the door.

I turn the key and peel out of the lot.

The carnival fades fast in the rearview, swallowed by trees as we head away from the city. The lookout’s not far. At least I was smart enough to take into consideration what her hormones have been like since the hospital.

She stares out the window, knees pressed together, hands clenched in her lap. The only sound is her breathing. Her scent thickens more between us; it curls under my skin.

Halfway there, she shifts.

One hand shoots out and grips the door handle.

I glance over.Her jaw clenches as tears streak down her cheeks. “Fuck,” she chokes out. “I’m so sorry, but I can’t take the ache. It hurts so bad.”

A rush of heat crawls up my spine.What is she going to do?

She props one foot on the dash, shoves her underwear aside, and sinks two fingers into herself with a cry so raw it punches through my chest. I nearly pull over. I can’t. We’re out in the open. Any cop could roll by.

The noise cuts through me, wet and frantic, louder than the engine. Her hips grind up off the seat as she rocks into her hand, chasing relief she’ll never reach. Not until I can knot inside her.

“I know I shouldn’t,” she gasps. “I’m burning up. I need your knot so bad. I hate my body!”

My hand tightens on the wheel. The truck veers before I correct.

“There’s nothing wrong with your body, Frankie.” I keep my eyes on the road. “Just a little further,” I murmur more to myself.

She moans through gritted teeth, fingers still working between her legs.

We crest the last hill and the trees fall away. The overlook opens ahead, bathed in moonlight.

I throw the truck in park.

Trees line the clearing, tall and dark, giving way to open sky and the Capitol glowing below. The city flickers, lights winking in and out. My engine ticks as it cools.