Page 121 of The Americana Playbook

“Run your tongue along the tip?”

“Y-yes.” My tongue sneaks out of my mouth, wanting to do that but settles for my lips. “I want to lick you. Top to bottom.”

Fitz’s breathing grows stronger, and there’s something about that, about imagining the way his broad chest begins to rise and fall quickly, that makes my hand in my shorts move a little faster as well. “Parker…”

“Can you see me?” I ask. “Looking up from you with my lips around your cock?”

Fitz hisses. “You’d never look prettier than when your mouth is full of me. God damn.”

“Mmm.” I imagine the moment—quiet, intimate, but so god damn sexy. “The way you’d push my hair back and tell me I’m doing a good job.”

I let out a little moan, sliding a finger inside myself. It doesn’t compare to Fitz. But coupling that with the image of him hard and thinking of me compensates a little for what I’m missing.

“Are you touching yourself?”

“Mmm-hmm.” I bite my lip, pressing my hand into my clit as I rotate my finger inside. “You have no idea what thinking of making you feel good does to me. I want you so much.”

“I know, baby,” Fitz says. In between his pants, I hear the faintest, sweet sound of skin on skin as Fitz strokes himself.

I whimper. Part of me wants to beg him to turn on the camera, but the other part of me wants to cherish the sound alone.

“I’d take you all the way in,” I tell him. “God, the way you pull my hair, the sounds you make… Knowing you like it makes meache.”

“I love it,” Fitz corrects. “I fucking love hitting the back of your throat.”

I try to hold my breath because I swear, I hear his movements grow faster, and as a result, so do mine.

“The soft spot?”

“Yes. God, yes.”

I pump my fingers harder. “The way I’d moan around you?”

Fitz lets out a combination of a sigh and moan. “Yes.” There are more frantic pumps of his hand. “Where…Parker, where do you want it?”

A warmth creeps across my lower belly, and my head rubs against the pillows as I feel my release build quickly. I grind harder into my hand as every muscle in my body tightens, searching for relief. “My mouth,” I tell him. “I want to swallow every damn drop of that warm baby batter.”

“God damn.” He pants around his words, his voice growing higher in pitch. “You’re such a good wife.”

I don’t try, not for a second, to hide how hard I come—Fitz’s words, the sounds of his own release, send me over the edge. My chest heaves with heavy breaths, as I realize my head has slipped through the space between the sets of pillows on the middle of the bed.

“Fuck. I made a mess.” He sighs. “Are you alright?”

“Am I alright?” I grab the phone. “Come home, and I’ll show you. I’ll show youeverything.”

I hear the happy breath that floats out of Fitz when he smiles. “Soon. I promise.”

* * *

Riding every day has me both on cloud nine and incredibly sore. After settling Bernard in his stall for the night, I’m waving down Agent Samuels, who’s been standing against the large tree, signaling I’ll be ready to go home soon.

Abby pops in. “Do you have a few minutes? I’ve got some paperwork that needs your signature. Just some authorizations for vet visits, grooming.”

I’ve never been more excited to sign my legal name. “Yes.”

“I feel awful,” she says as we walk side by side. “I didn’t tell your husband congratulations when he came by last week. He must’ve thought I was so rude.”

I skip up the steps as we approach the office. “It’s fine. We didn’t want to make a big deal of it.” This sounds ridiculous considering we eloped inVegaswith active paparazzi standing right outside the chapel doors. “I mean, it’s a busy time for both of us. We just didn’t see the point in waiting for a big wedding and wanted to have a little fun. It was pretty informal.”

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