Christian zips by me, laughing deep in his chest. My head snapped back against my seat as another car rams into me from the side, sending me skidding across the smooth surface and directly into oncoming traffic. After a few seconds of getting batted around like a pinball, I manage to straighten myself out, and start moving in the right direction. Ahead of me, I see Christian turning seamlessly around the row of tires that mark the center of the bumper car track. He looks smug and satisfied with himself, until a car smashes into the back of his, and sends him careening into the wall.
He bounces off, hitting another car and spinning around to face the opposite direction. I glide past, sticking the tip of my tongue out between my lips as I go. His car lurches forward, smashing directly into me. Gasping, I take my hands from the wheel. The crackling voice of the attendant comes over the microphone again, reminding me of the pilot from the ever-circling flight to Atlanta.
"Sir, please turn around and go the proper direction."
I managed to get myself back under control, and skirt past him.
"Yeah, sir, please turn around and go the proper direction."
He looks like he wants to reach out and snatch me right out of the car, but a few seconds later the electricity turns off and the tiny vehicles come to a reluctant stop. Christian climbs from his car, crossing the track to me as I attempt to struggle free of the fabric seat belt. He reaches for my hand and helps me step out. His hand holds mine tightly as we walk back over the loading platform and down the ramp toward the asphalt.
"What changed your mind?" I inquire.
"What do you mean?" he asks.
"Oh, come on. I saw the way you were looking at the cars when I first got in mine. You thought you were way too fucking big and bad to ride the bumper cars. Then suddenly, there you are."
His eyes cut to the side, and I see the two guys who have been riding the cars in front of me walk past us. Their eyes flicker over to me, and Christian subtly tugs me back behind him. The protective, possessive gesture sends a wave of unexpected pleasure through me. I know I need to distract myself before I lure him into the bushes and security finds us with my legs wrapped around his neck.
"Are you hungry?"
"Starving."
"I'll be right back."
* * *
Christian
I settle onto a nearby concrete bench as I watch Piper disappear into a small building that appears to be decorated to look like a waterfront shop. The broad white and red umbrella hanging over the table cast deep shade over the area, creating a cool reprieve from the warmth already building in the air. A few minutes later, Piper backs out of the building, using her sweet little ass to push the door open. Holding a paper plate in one hand, and a drink carrier in the other, she walks toward me, her luscious lips holding two paper-wrapped straws between them.
Standing, I take the plate from her hand, and look down at it. I see a mass of tangled dough under a copious dusting of powdered sugar, and immediately know this must be the infamous funnel cake. Piper takes the straws from her mouth and tosses them onto the table beside the drink carrier. It contains two paper cups, and a strong coffee smell is rising from them. She smiles as she settles on to the bench across from me, holding her hands out to indicate the spread.
"Amusement park breakfast," she says.
"I'm not sure that funnel cake counts as legitimate breakfast," I say.
"That's why there's coffee," she says.
"How does that make it better?"
"Haven't you ever had a powdered doughnut for breakfast? Surely Cambria has powdered doughnuts."
"Yes, you adorable smartass, Cambria has powdered doughnuts. Even if we didn't, I've spent enough time here to have had them a few times."
"And not a funnel cake?"
"No, never."
"Regardless, what is a powdered doughnut in its most basic elements?"
I see where she's going with this.
"Fried dough with powdered sugar."
"Exactly." Piper gestures toward the plate and two cups. "Breakfast."
She pushes her sunglasses up on top of her head, and I take the opportunity to look into her eyes. They are even more gorgeous in the bright sunlight. The seat she sits in is dappled in light, thanks for the fraying edge of the umbrella over her head, and when she turns just right it catches in one eye, illuminating streaks of lighter green and brown that I hadn't noticed before.
"Where do I start?" I asked, pulling my attention away from her eyes to look down at the tangled mess of golden funnel cake in front of me.
"The edges," Piper says with authority, reaching forward to tear away a piece of dough.
She slides the bite into her mouth, and her shoulders relax in that nostalgic way that happens the first time you taste something from pleasant memories. I know that feeling. It's the one she tried to capture by recreating the Summer Festival pastries for me. Even though she nearly succeeded in burning the house down and had to resort to a last-minute grocery store run for toaster pastries, the sentiment and care were still there. It was a gesture I hadn't expected, and one that's still sitting in my chest. I'm not exactly sure what to do with it.
Instead of dwelling on it any further, I follow her example and grab a chunk of funnel cake, and pop it into my mouth. Powdered sugar clings to my fingers, and I shake them unsuccessfully in an attempt to get it off. At first, the bite tastes mostly of incredibly sweet frying oil, but it quickly mellows into a delicious balance between rich and savory. The flavor is familiar, yet unique enough to creates and unexpectedly delectable experience.
"I told you," Piper says in response to my involuntary moan. She dips one finger in a pool of powdered sugar on the plate and licks it off.
We eat in silence for a few seconds before she has another piece of advice for me.
"The middle is a completely different experience," she says, pulling off a chunk of the visibly softer middle portion of the cake.
I take a bite, and nod as the fluffy dough melts on my tongue.
"So, it’s kind of like you," I say, licking sugar off of my thumb.
Piper tilts her head questioningly at me.
"How so?" she asks, reaching for another piece.
"Kind of dark and hard on the outside, soft and warm on the inside."
"I'm not dark and hard on the outside."
I smile.
"The past me who got yelled at in the airport, and nearly left there like a lamb thrown to wolves would beg to differ, thank you very much."
Piper is laughing as she licks her lips.
"Yeah but Christian…you are no fucking lamb."
I get up and walk over to sit on the bench beside her. Looping one arm around her waist, I slide the other hand down her inner thigh. I press just hard enough to feel the heat of her body radiating toward me. She gasps and her hips tilt toward my hand, striving to find more of the sensation. I tuck my head into the curve of her neck, biting into her earlobe before whispering to her.
"You are so soft and warm inside," I say. "And so sweet. I want to lick up every bit of you right now."
"Not yet," she finally says, managing to catch her breath after losing it with every press of my fingertips.
"Why not?" I ask.
"Well, you seem to be feeling a little warm and I did a little bit of investigative digging while getting the funnel cake and I found out that there happens to be a log ride just around the corner there."
She points in the direction of a tall stand of trees concealing the rest of the paved path as it curves behind the shack.
"I don't want to get on a log ride," I mutter into her ear, nibbling on her lobe. "I want to drag you out to the car and fuck you senseless until security bans us."
"Which wouldn't really matter to either of us, would it?"
"Now you see the beauty of my plan."
"Yes," she says, pushing back against my chest. "But our original plan was to have an adventure today, so that's what we should do."
She's teasi
ng me, dangling herself in front of me like a carrot to a horse. And lord help me, I can’t help but follow her. I've never let a woman so much as think that she has the upper hand, but something about Piper makes me willing to go along with whatever she wants. I’ll have to prove my dominance once we’re alone in the car later.
We approach the ride just in time to watch one of the log-style boats tip over the peak of the large hill, and speed down, seeming to crash at the bottom as it sends a cascade of water shooting into the air. I remember seeing a ride like this before. It, much like the King Candle, is listed among things I never would have bothered to try on my own. Something about getting in a fake log and floating along peacefully before careening down a hill has never made any damn sense to me.
Several minutes later, however, I find myself standing in line for the ride. We silently follow behind the family in front of us, taking slow, measured steps that seemed to make Piper feel as though we’re making progress even if ten of those tiny steps cover just two feet of space in the queue. As we approach a faux lumber house, I realize it's a loading platform, and I feel hopeful we’ll actually make it to the ride at some point today. Patience has never been my strong suit.
Finally, we make it to the front of the line and are ushered into a metal corral on one side of the platform. The ride attendant directs a gaggle of scantily-dressed teenage girls to the metal corral on the other side of the platform, and I hear one of them make an off-color remark about several of the girls and the logs they shared in the past.
Our own fake log glides up in the water in front of us, and Piper grabs the metal bars on either side of her for balance before stepping down. She takes the front position inside the log and looks up at me expectantly. I climb in after her, settling onto the black vinyl cushion behind her. I'm suddenly very aware of how the ride attendant is staring at her, so I reach forward to pull Piper back between my knees, so she rests with her head on my chest. I make eye contact and the boy looks away.
Punk.
"Are you ready?" she asks, an edge of excitement in her voice as if she's preparing for a thrilling experience.
She is beyond adorable. I can't help but chuckle when she gasps as the metal piece holding the log in place falls away and we slide off the textured pad beside the loading dock, and into the main flume. I enjoy the way she settles back against me as the log catches the bottom of a conveyor belt, and begins its slow climb up the first hill. I prepare for a drop, but it doesn't come. Instead, the log slips down a few inches and levels out before being swept forward by faster-moving water. It pulls us into the woods, enveloping us in quiet, peaceful shade.
"What are we doing?" I ask.
Piper laughs.
"Relaxing," she says.
"I thought the point of these things was the adrenaline rush."
"I don't think I've ever heard a log ride described as an adrenaline rush. It's just fun."
She reaches behind herself and I feel her hand grasp my cock. Rocking her body, she massages me through my pants. I run my hands over her breasts in response, leaning forward to kiss the side of her neck. Now, this I can understand. Too soon, the wandering of the flume straightens out and we start the ascent up the hill of the large drop. This conveyor belt is faster than the first and within a few seconds, we are cresting the top. The log pauses just long enough to afford a view of the wooded area around the ride, and then tips, sending us flying toward the water below. I wrap my arms around Piper, surrounding her with my body as the log hits the bottom of the hill and creates a wall of water at the front and around the sides. Apparently, it was not quite enough, and we both gasp as the cold water showers down on us.
"What did you think?" Piper asks, turning back to look at me as we follow the short path that loops toward the unloading dock at the back of the platform.
Water trails down her neck and disappears beneath the neckline of her shirt. Somehow the moisture makes her skin appear even paler, the contrast making her dark lashes and green eyes stand out more than usual.
"I like seeing you wet," I answer. "But I can think of several much more efficient ways to do it."
I brush a droplet of water from her cheek, and her eyes instantly soften. She turns her head slightly, leaning into my fingers. I turn and cover her mouth with mine. The connection is painfully brief, however, and only a second later the log bounces into place at the dock, jostling us apart.
"What next?" I ask when we reach the smooth asphalt at the bottom of the unloading ramp.
I know where I'd like to be next, but I can see how much Piper is enjoying herself, and I don't want to discourage her.
"Choose one," she instructs as we step into an open area of the pavement.
The sun beats down on us, but I can see elements of five different coasters weaving away from the walkways.
"That one looks ridiculous," I say, indicating one called the Black Mamba across from us.
The steel track rolls and coils like its namesake creature, twisting and looping until it seems the cars would crash into the framing.
"Yes, it does. That will not be first," Piper responds. "How about that one?" she says, pointing in the opposite direction.
The coaster called Nessie rises out of the ground in a vibrant green, its track looming far into the distance and disappearing behind a stand of trees.
"I think I’m having difficulty catching on to the theming of this area," I tell her, scanning the names of the coasters again.
Yeti, Screaming Raptor, Ghost Coaster.
"Fearsome creatures?" Piper suggests.
I glance back at her.
"Is that a theme?"
"Honestly, I have no idea."
We walk toward the entrance to Nessie's queue, having somehow silently agreed this is the one we want to ride. We step up into the line and Piper pulls her phone from her pocket.
"Is it ok?" I ask, watching the water sliding off the case.
"Waterproof case, honey. In my line of work, you can't be too careful with your phone."
"Heard anything from Tabitha?"
"No. That's probably good news, though."
We walk a few more steps up the ramp, creeping closer to the bright orange and green cars zipping out of the loading platform. At the base of the ramp, a crowd of rowdy boys run into the line, forcing the cluster of people behind us to push up closer. Piper takes a few steps forward but stops with a small amount of space between us and the people ahead of her. She grips the metal banisters on either side of the ramp and positions herself directly in the center of the path as if creating a barricade.
I watch her admiringly. She really is a woman who can handle herself.
Even still.
Piper seems perfectly confident about blocking the impending force of the people behind us, but she is still a tiny woman, and the surge of protectiveness I feel around her suddenly increases. I step up behind her, positioning myself directly between her and the people still encroaching on us. They push forward again, and my body brushes against her. I steel myself, standing my ground, and keeping my body close enough to her that I know she's safe.
The boys push again, and I turned to face them. Squaring my shoulders, I stare directly into the eyes of the one closest to me. Without a word, he steps back. The pressure from behind us eases, but I don't back away from Piper. I turn back around to face her, and we stand completely still, our breathing synchronized as we wait for the people ahead of us to move. Finally, they do, and I stay as close to her as possible as we continue working our way to the corrals that distribute riders into their cars. I feel surrounded by her presence, and the smell of her hair. I realize I care more about feeling connected to her than our progress in line. Suddenly, we are on the loading platform, and Piper turns to grin at me. She leads us into the line for the front car of the train.
The group ahead of us steps into the waiting train and disappears out of the loading station a few seconds before another cart slides into place in front of us. The train empties
to the other side of the platform, and Piper eagerly climbs aboard as soon as the metal gate in front of her swings out in front of us. I walk forward and leisurely settle into the seat beside her. As soon as I sit, Piper pulls the padded lap bar down on top of us. It stops a few inches above my lap. I don't find this fact reassuring.
I follow Piper’s example and remove my sunglasses and tuck them into the mesh pouch in front of me. Attendants walk down the train, tugging on the lap bar to ensure they don't pop out of place, and I feel Piper bouncing in place next to me, practically humming with excitement. The train starts moving forward, and she glances over at me.
"Are you scared Christian?" she asks.
"I'm not scared," I say. "I'm just trying to figure out the appeal."
Piper slides over, closing the space between us so that our bodies touch at the shoulders. The train curves around the first turn out of the loading station, and a hill looms ahead of us. The conveyor draws the train up the hill at a faster speed than the log flume, and before I even realize we're all the way at the top, we crest the hill. Piper grabs my hand just as I feel the release of the chains on either side of the train. I turn my hand, capturing hers so our fingers intertwine tightly, and our palms press against one another. The car drops down the hill, and I see Piper drop her head back, her face euphoric, screaming as the train picks up speed. She squeezes my hand even more tightly, grabbing onto my arm with her other hand as the ride tilts through a steep bank.
I savor feeling how her hand presses into mine, and how my large hand envelops her tiny one. The sound of her excited screams cause a clenching in my belly and the joy on her face is enough to force me to smile widely. By the second hill, she's no longer screaming, but laughing. I don't release her hand but squeeze it instead. Finally, it's over, and as we climb out of the train, Piper looks at me. There's fire in her eyes, and I know the adrenaline has gotten to her. She's ready to get back in the car, and head back to her house. I don't know how I’m going to keep those clothes on her that long.
Unexpected Daddies Page 82
