“You would fuck me like this, wouldn’t you?” he asked, pulling me down by my hair so my back pressed against the tank. “On the bike, legs wrapped around me as you’re draped over this tank where anyone could see us. God, imagine someone watching, knowing exactly what’s happening to you—knowing you are coming undone for me and me only.”
Heat pooled between my legs. The risk, the thrill—it was almost unbearable. I leaned back slightly, arching, teasing, “And you’d like that, too, wouldn’t you?”
“I would lose my mind showing off exactly how fucking mine you are,” he admitted, voice low, thick.
I gasped, shivering, as his hand slid down my back, pulling me flush against him. The movement was sharp, commanding, thrilling, and my jaw tipped back instinctively. I caught the faintest whiff of his cologne mixed with the heat radiating off him.
“Mine,” he growled, and it wasn’t a question. Every syllable vibrated through me.
I arched into him, chest pressing against his, trying to match the rhythm of his hips. Finally, his cock pressed against me, straining over my leggings. My breath hitched, anticipation coiling tight and sharp.
“Do you feel that?” he hissed, fingers tightening around my wrists on the handlebars, holding me perfectly in place. “Every inch of you pressed to me. Every sound, every shiver—it’s all mine.”
He pulled at my clothes, moving them out of the way so fast I barely took a full breath.
I couldn’t answer with words—only a trembling moan escaped me, hips rolling instinctively. I bit my lip, shivering at his words. His cock pressed against me, hard and unrelenting, the tip nudging, teasing. I ached for him, needing him buried inside me, claiming me completely.
He leaned forward, pressing his chest against mine, lips brushing my ear. “Open for me,” he ordered, and I obeyed instantly, shivering at the possessive heat in his eyes. His hand slid down to my core, pressing inside me with a growl, stretching me around him.
The first slow push inside me made me arch hard against him, nails scraping the handles, teeth clenching.
“Fuck, you’re tight,” he groaned, tilting my jaw so I could meet his eyes as he drove deeper. “So wet, so needy. I can feel every inch of you.”
I moaned, heat blooming through me as he drove into me, slow and deliberate at first, then faster, the friction amplified bythe bike’s vibration. His grip shifted, holding me firmly, thumb brushing my cheek as he pressed close, lips grazing my jaw, teeth teasing my skin, marking me.
“Look at you,” he hissed, voice low and rough. “You can’t hide it. Every inch of you wrapped around me, every shiver, every gasp—I can feel it. I canfeelhow much you want me. Feel it. Feel me filling you.”
I arched harder, chest pressing to his, body quivering. The heat of his skin against mine, the relentless push and pull—it was too much, and just enough. My legs instinctively tightened around his waist, holding him closer, desperate for more friction.
Every thrust made me moan, arching against him, cock buried, marking, claiming. The thrill of exhibition—the danger of being seen—made every sensation sharper, deeper, impossible to ignore.
“Ride it,” he growled, pressing me down, hips snapping into mine. “Ride me like you want it, want to be claimed right here, in front of everyone who could see us.”
I did, pressing my body flush against his, every movement matching his, rocking into him, gasping and moaning, fingers clutching his shoulders as he held me close, forcing me to meet his gaze as I lost myself.
“You’re so wet, so tight—fuck,” he groaned, thrusting faster, harder with the kind of reckless, delicious abandon only he could manage. “I’m going to drown in you. All of you, mine, right here. You’re letting me ruin you, little Psycho, and youloveit.”
I arched into him, tilting my head back, lips brushing his neck, leaving heated kisses, biting lightly, whining as he drove into me, hard and relentless. His hand slipped under my hoodie, grazing my bare skin, fingertips brushing the swell of my breasts beforecupping one in a rough, deliberate squeeze. I shivered, pressing closer, and he nipped at my jaw, pulling me flush against him.
“You want more, don’t you?” he growled. “Want me to fuck you over this bike until you can’t think straight?”
“Yes,” I whispered, voice trembling. “Please, Aiden.”
His grin widened, teeth flashing. “God, you make itsoeasy to fuck you like this.” His hips drove into mine, steady at first, then hard and punishing. The friction was unbearable, delicious, every thrust sending sparks of pleasure straight to my core.
I pressed back against him, shivering, hands gripping the handlebars, fingernails digging into metal, every nerve alive. He leaned close, tilting my head just enough to meet his gaze. “Eyes on me,” he demanded, voice low, hot. “I want to see how much you love this. How much you need me.”
“I do,” I moaned, voice shaking. “So much.”
He growled, thrusting harder, and I gasped as the sheer force of him entering me drove my body into a frenzy. He leaned down, pressing his lips to mine briefly, before letting his hands roam—gripping my face, threading through my hair, holding me in place while he fucked me relentlessly.
“I could do this forever, and it still wouldn’t be enough.”
I clutched him tighter, legs tightening, hips rolling with his rhythm. “Then don’t stop,” I begged, voice raw, trembling. “Please, don’t stop.”
His grin was wicked. “Oh, I won’t. I’m only getting started.” He tugged my hair hard, tilting my face back again, and slammed into me, hips snapping, breath hot against my neck. Every movement was precise, violent in its perfection, and I couldn’t help the shuddering, the moans, the wet slick heat he was creating inside me.
“Psycho girl,” he groaned, “you’re going to make me lose it right here, right now.”
