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“I’m not sure what I’m doing here. Do you get on first, or do I?”
In answer, Castiel got on first then held out his hand.
I held up a finger and handed him my purse.
He frowned as I started digging around in it, but his eyes cleared when I pulled a pair of bike shorts out of the depths of my purse—so sue me, I liked to be prepared—and proceeded to slip them on under my dress without a second thought.
I then mounted the bike like I’d done it every day. In reality, it’d been my very first time to ever do something like that, and it was incredibly awkward. I was honestly surprised that I didn’t end up falling on my face or kicking the tailpipe with my shin.
Once I was settled behind him, I tried to decide what to do next.
But he took that choice out of my hands as he reached behind me and scooted me up by placing both hands on my lower ass cheeks and yanking me forward. I went from having about six inches of space between the inside of my thighs and Castiel’s hard ass, to nothing.
Not one single inch.
I was plastered to him from the inside of my knees, all the way to the juncture of my thighs.
And up to my unbound breasts that felt like they were covered by a silk sheet instead of a well-made dress that did really well at holding all my jiggly bits in.
And then he started the monster we were sitting on, and I didn’t bother to hold back the moan.
He didn’t hear me, of course, but I wouldn’t have been able to stop it even if I’d wanted to.
“Put your arms around me so I don’t have to worry about you falling off,” he ordered harshly over the loud roar of the motor.
That was the last thing in this world that I wanted to do.
Why?
Because as I leaned forward, my sensitive breasts—God, so sensitive all the damn time—pressed up against Castiel’s back. My nipples were hard points, and there was no way in hell that he didn’t feel them.
My arms went loosely around his waist, and I swear to God I saw heaven.
He had abs.
I’d suspected, of course, but knowing and thinking are two very different things.
He had great abs.
Abs that felt like hard ridges and valleys underneath my not-searching fingertips.
Oh, God. I wanted to run my fingers up and down each dip and rise, drag them over his belly as I rode his…shit!
“Hold on tighter,” he ordered.
And when he did, his belly flexed underneath my fingertips, causing my arms to tighten around him anyway due to the new definition in his abdominals.
“Okay,” I said.
I held on tighter, and then we were shooting off through the quiet streets of Bear Bottom, weaving in and out of side roads, alleys, and cut-throughs until we were well and truly flying down the interstate.
I’d felt adrenaline before.
I’d felt exhilaration before.
I’d never, not once in my life, felt like I did right then.
Going two hundred plus miles an hour was everything.
But going fast with nothing around us to stop the ground from rushing up and swallowing us whole? That was an entirely different ball game.
And by the time we arrived at Castiel’s quiet place in the middle of nowhere twenty minutes later, I was fairly convinced that he’d have to do this again with me.
Even if he didn’t say a word, and neither did I, I had to experience it one more time.
By the time he parked in front of a sprawling little shack of a house in the middle of an open field, my heart was pounding, and my hands were slick with sweat.
He stopped the bike just short of being on the little postage-stamp-sized front porch and got off, offering me his hand.
I took it, thankful that I had a pair of shorts on underneath my dress, because the damn thing had ridden up even farther to expose my entire lower half during the ride over.
“This is a nice little place,” I found myself saying as I pushed the dress back down below my crotch.
He watched silently as I did, and didn’t reply until I looked up at him.
“Thanks,” he said dryly.
I narrowed my eyes. “You don’t think that I like it?”
He shrugged. “I think that you may like it, but it’s probably not up to your standards.”
“I stayed in a cabin at the lake for three weeks before my dad forced his RV on me,” I told him. “Honestly, I prefer that over what I have, but my dad is right, unfortunately. I’m a well-known person that could easily be stalked thanks to my father’s followers. It’s been known to happen.”
It’d happened twice before, actually. And it definitely wasn’t a fun experience.
I’d tried doing it my way only to find out that my way didn’t work.
