I frown upon hearing a motorcycle roar out of the driveway.
He’s leaving already? My phone lights up to show me it’s only six-thirty. How far away is this place?
I plug the address into my GPS which shows an arrival time of six-forty-five. Why’s he leaving so early if it’s only fifteen minutes away? Is it going to take himthislong to set something up?
I’ll leave around seven-thirty then to make sure I have time to walk to wherever the destination is since I have no idea how long the “stone drive” is.
Feeling gutsy, I wear an all-black tight fitting bodycon dress with no underwear or bra. I assume wherever he’s taking me means we’ll be alone, and I want him drooling over me, and begging to touch me. I want him to want me so bad he can’t take it anymore and takes me fully.
I straighten my hair in the mirror and choose a lighter make-up style with a darker lip liner, gloss and eyeliner with mascara. Simple and sweet, exactly how he likes it with just an added touch of spice to hopefully floor him.
Right as I put on my shoes, my alarm beeps, signaling it’s time to go. I haven’t heard from Ben since he left, which isn’t helping ease my nerves that are already on edge from the daring look I chose mixed with a surprise in the middle of nowhere.
I stop by the west barn to admire my motorcycle helmet and jacket one more time before leaving, but they aren’t there. Dalia’s still parked here too. Did he take the bike he drove to Jared’s?
My second alarm reminder beeps. Well, guess I’ll find out what bike he rode when I get to the location.
The stone drive’s creepy, especially since it’s already dark. My headlights cast an eerie light, making the tree shadows lurch out dramatically. Sucking in a breath of courage, I park off to the side of the road as instructed, hoping I’m not about to get murdered and get out. Woods ominously line each side of the stone drive where it leads down into darkness with no visible ending.
What the hell’s he getting me into? The only thing I hear are my black and white converse slipping on the stones and a few birds that are still out, otherwise it’s dead quiet. I check my phone.
Seven-fifty-five.
I pick up my pace to a half-run, unsure of how much farther I need to go.
Finally, after what feels like forever, music sounds to my left which is a good thing because a line of trees blocks the way in front of me, leaving me nowhere else to go. Looks like this is the end. I follow the music through a thicket of brush, cursing Ben’s name. I can’t believe he knew I’d be walking through this thicket and didn’t tell me to dress accordingly. I’m going to give him so much shit for this. If my dress tears and burrs stick all over my clothes, hair and face, I’m going to be a mess. God, that’ll be a real attractive sight. It’ll be like a human-sized bigfoot roaming the woods and trying to seduce him.
I stop dead in my tracks as the thicket clears. My stomach drops down to my feet and my legs start shaking, feeling as though they’re about to give out.
There’s a concrete lot in front of me with a tripod set up in front of a bike and…
Holy.
Fucking.
Shit.
It’s him. The dancing biker.
Holy fucking shit.
I bolt behind a tree just outside the thicket, frozen, and afraid to be seen.
Did I take a wrong turn? Is there another stone drive I was supposed to go down? Where the hell is Ben and why ishehere?
I peek back around the tree that barely hides me and watch him dance to the music, ending the move in a handstand and a front flip. He walks to the tripod, his chest heaving vigorously from exertion and presses a button on the phone, stopping the recording.
My body begins doing what it’s been trained to do when it sees him. My core is getting soaked, and I know it’s only a matter of time before I’m dripping down myleg from no underwear. The urge to touch myself, to envelope myself in its pleasure is strong as the pulse below strengthens.
Last time it felt wrong when I was with Ben, so why doesn’t it feel wrong right now?
I step away from the tree back toward the thicket to see if I made a wrong turn when my foot steps on a large stick, breaking it, and sending a loudcrackinto the quiet woods, giving my position away. And that’s when a whistle sounds from behind me.
I slowly turn around in shock, still frozen in my sneaky position, my arms out wide. He looks right at me beneath the helmet, cocks his head and without saying anything lifts his gloved hand up and motions me to come toward him with two fingers. If I thought my legs were going to give out before, that is nothing to how weak they feel now caught red-handed by my biker obsession.
Embarrassed to no end, I wobble toward him. He stalks his way toward me with steady, dominant steps. Shit, I don’t know what to say.
What do I say?
