Praying for Rain (Praying for Rain Trilogy, #1)(17)

We slow down for just a second before Rain grabs the handle. She twists the shit out of it, and we shoot forward. I laugh as she dials it back and can feel how hard she’s breathing where her back meets my chest. I have to keep the clutch engaged with my left hand, but now, my right hand is free to do something about the evil little tease sitting in my lap.

Wrapping my arm around her waist, I tuck my nose into the neck of her hoodie and inhale the warm, sugary scent coming off of her heated skin. Rain’s heavy breaths all but stop. Then, she angles her head to the side, just a little.

It’s all the invitation I need. She keeps her eyes on the path and steers us with jerky movements as my tongue forges a trail of its own up her neck.

Fuck. She even tastes like vanilla.

I slide my hand up her body until it’s filled with the weight of her perfect, round tit. Then, I smile because I can tell how hard her nipple is, even through her sweatshirt. I circle it with my thumb and feel her moan vibrate against my chest.

She can’t even hide how badly she wants this, and thank fuck for that because, with my cock pressed against her ass, neither can I.

I trace the outline of her ear with my tongue as I work her other nipple, squeezing and kneading and wishing like hell that I could flip her around, yank that hoodie up, and suck it between my teeth.

I glance up just to make sure Rain isn’t about to drive us off a cliff. Then, I slide my hand lower and push my fingers beneath the loose drawstring waistband of her soft flannel pajama pants. They skate over a silky pair of panties. I cup her pussy and bite her earlobe, waiting for her to tell me to stop, to swat my hand away.

But she doesn’t. Instead, Rain reaches behind her back with her free hand and grabs my dick through my jeans.

Fuck.

Yes.

I’m determined to drive her just as crazy as she’s been driving me this entire ride, so I rub two fingers from her clit to her hole in slow, gentle strokes, over her panties. But Rain’s impulsive ass manages to unbutton my fly and get my zipper down in seconds. The moment her smooth fingers wrap around my cock, my plan to tease her mercilessly goes right out the window. It feels so fucking good that I yank her panties aside and slide two fingers into her slick, hot pussy.

Rain’s head falls back to my shoulder, so I look up and try to concentrate on the trail while she whimpers and fucks my hand.

But we aren’t on the trail anymore. At least, not any trail I’ve ever been on.

This one cuts through a forest of dead trees that are in the process of being consumed by sharp, thorny vines. The taller branches, brittle and gray and bent toward the white sky, have red banners hanging from them. We’re going so fast that I can’t read what any of them say, but I can tell that each one is branded with the silhouette of a hooded figure on horseback.

The vines reach up from the forest floor like octopus tentacles, winding around the ancient trees and squeezing them until the wood splinters and breaks and crumbles into the ocean of hungry thorns.

“Faster!” I yell to Rain, but she doesn’t crank the throttle.

She begins pumping my dick even harder instead.

Fuck, it feels good.

I shove my fingers into her deeper and rub her clit with my thumb and thrust into her hand even though I know that if I don’t kick it into third gear right fucking now, we’re both going to die.

I can hear myself yelling inside my own head.

What the fuck are you doing?

I can see myself, a slave to my stupid desire for this crazy girl.

She’s going to get you killed, dipshit! Ditch the bitch and get the fuck out of here!

But I’m powerless. Rain is in control now, and she’s driving us straight toward certain death.

A tree snaps up ahead, and the sound echoes through the woods like a gunshot. As it crashes to the ground, one of its branches falls across the trail. I can clearly see the banner attached to it now, waving like a flag on the way down.

Just above the image of a faceless horseman wielding a flaming club is the date April 23.

I don’t have time to contemplate what that means because, a split second later, I’m flying over the handlebars and somersaulting down the rocky, root-covered trail. When I finally stop rolling, I smack my head on something hard. My cranium explodes in pain. I sit up, clutching my dented skull, and begin frantically looking around for Rain. Blood trickles down my arm as I swivel toward the sound of cavalry in the distance.

Four monstrous black horses are barreling toward me through the forest—heads down, smoke pouring from their flared nostrils—ripping through the brambles and branches like party streamers. They leave nothing but flames and scorched earth in their wake as their faceless, cloaked riders point their weapons—a sword, a scythe, a mace, and a flaming club—toward the colorless sky.

“Wes!” Rain’s voice calls out.

I swing my dented head left and right, but I don’t find her until I turn all the way around. She landed in a thicket of thorn bushes, and all I can see is her face and halo of black hair before the vines constrict around her body and pull her under.

“Wesssss!”

“No!” I run toward her, but the vines grab my legs, their thorns digging into my clothes and skin like fish hooks, and pull me down, too.

Trees pop and hiss and collapse all around me as the heat from the approaching fire intensifies. I struggle to free myself, slicing my hands open as I rip the sharp vines from my body. With every push and pull and grunt and shove, I get closer to the place where Rain disappeared.