I reach between us, line myself up, and push in slowly. It takes restraint, but I want to feel every inch of her, every twitch, every inhale. Her breath catches, her legs tightening around me, and when I bottom out, we both go still.
“Holy shit,” she breathes.
My arms tremble with the effort it takes not to move.
I dip my head and kiss the space beneath her ear. “You okay?”
“Better than okay,” she pants. “Move, Griff. Please.”
I pull back, then drive into her again.
She moans, a sound that hits me right in the chest. Her nails dig into my skin just enough to mark the territory as shemeets me stroke for stroke, her hips rising to meet mine with a desperate, perfect friction.
It’s fast. It’s messy. It’s that raw, unpolished heat that makes you forget everything but the person beneath you. The motel lamp flickers, casting jagged shadows on the wall, and I forget every logical reason I had for staying away. All I know is the slide of our skin, the sound of her breath hitching, and the way she gasps when I bury myself completely.
After a few minutes, her head tilts back against the pillow. Her brows furrow. She’s breathing heavily, biting her lip, her body vibrating with a tension that isn’t quite releasing.
She’s right there, but she’s stuck.
“Piper,” I rasp, slowing the rhythm just enough to catch her eyes. “Talk to me.”
She lets out a short, frustrated exhale. “I’m fine. It’s just—it’s always been like this. I don’t usually come this way. It’s fine, Griffin. Don’t stop.”
I slow to a complete halt, my weight braced on one forearm. I lean in close, my mouth brushing the shell of her ear. “Wanna bet?”
Before she can argue, I slide my hand down between our bodies. Her eyes fly open, her pupils blown so wide they’re almost black.
“Griffin—”
I find her clit with my thumb, swollen and soaked, and I start to circle. Her mouth falls open, her breath stuttering into a series of broken sounds.
“Oh my God,” she chokes out.
“That’s it,” I whisper, my eyes locked on hers. I want to see this. I want to be the one who does this to her.
She bucks into me, her hips going wild. Her hands fist in the sheets, then my hair, then the mattress. My name falls out of her mouth over and over—gasps, moans, pleas that make my ownblood roar in my ears. I don’t stop moving inside her, and I don’t stop the relentless pressure of my thumb.
When she finally shatters, it’s violent.
She screams, her body going rigid as she wriggles under me, her internal muscles clamping down on me in a series of punishing pulses. She’s loud. She’s raw. She’s completely undone.
And seeing her like that? Hearing her? My control doesn’t just snap; it disintegrates.
I bury myself as deep as I can go, groaning into the crook of her neck as I come so hard that it steals the air from my lungs. Everything blurs into a haze of heat and skin.
Then, slowly, the world stops spinning.
We stay tangled, our breaths coming in ragged, synchronized bursts. Her arms are still curled around my shoulders, her fingers limp now. My hand rests over her heart, feeling it thud against her ribs like a trapped bird.
Neither of us says anything, because what the hell do you say after you’ve just rewritten so much history in twenty minutes?
Eventually, Piper exhales a stunned laugh against my chest.
“Okay,” she whispers, sounding like she’s still half-dreaming. “So you win the bet.”
I smile into the curve of her shoulder, my pulse finally slowing to a dull throb.
I stay exactly where I am, still inside her, still breathing her in, already ruined for anyone else.
