Page 59 of Texting the Wrong Bikers

She blinks, as if I’ve stolen the word from her mouth. “Until I texted the wrong number that day.”

“I’m glad you did.”

“Me too,” she says softly, looking into my eyes. Her lips part, and she moves closer.

I know it’s a bad idea, a very, very bad idea. Trigger might actually murder me. But for the first time in a long time, I don’t feel like a shadow, I don’t feel invisible, or perhaps someone just understands what that feels like.

I kiss her.

There’s no hesitation as she kisses me back. The kiss is tender, a little hesitant as we both realize the ramifications, but it soon deepens into something more, something urgent and consuming. I know that I can’t stop now, not unless she asks me to.

Her lips are soft, her tongue tastes of wine and something sweet I can’t put my finger on. My arm wraps around her waist, and I feel the curves of her body, curves she thinks make her less desirable thanks to her shit of an ex, curves that only make her more womanly, more sexy.

She tilts her head back, and I kiss the soft, tender skin of her throat, making my way down slowly to the swell of her breasts, her breath coming heavier with each caress.

Suddenly, a car drives past, its engine loud in the silence of the night, its lights blinding in the darkness. We pull apart, eyes darting to the window. The drapes are wide open. Anyone could look in and see us. Sadie’s stalker could be out there watching us right now.

The same thought seems to occur to Sadie, and I think that the moment has passed. She kisses me once, lightly on the lips, and I try not to feel too disappointed, preparing myself to be understanding in her rejection. To my surprise, she says, “Let’s go upstairs.”

I don’t trust myself to speak in case I ruin this. I simply nod and allow her to take my hand, which swallows hers whole, and lead me upstairs to her bedroom.

Her room is distinctly hers, unlike the rest of the house, which resembles a typical family home, overrun with Owen’s toys and things; this room is clearly her sanctuary. She’s decorated the walls in calming neutral cream, but the bedspread and cushions are brightly colored with a patchwork array of pinks, blues, purples, and yellows. An insane amount of plush, fluffy scatter cushions litter the bed, and enough candles to start a small bonfire are spread about every surface.

Sadie strides over to the window, pulling the pink velvet drapes closed, and I shut the door softly behind me, feeling out of place in this soft, feminine place. She turns to look at me, hovering awkwardly near the door, afraid to touch anything lest she muss it, and laughs.

“I know, it’s a little quirky. Ethan liked a neutral, all-cream bedroom, cream walls, cream sheets, cream drapes—and no scatter cushions. I always wanted something brighter and more cozy. I guess I went a little overboard after he left.”

“It’s nice, it has character.”

She smiles. “I think so. Plus, I don’t have to worry about messing things up. Neutral colors are a bitch to clean. At some point, I want to paint the walls, but I never seem to find the time. I got the paint and everything.”

“I could paint it for you?”

She tilts her head to the side. “You don’t need to do that.”

“But I want to do it for you.”

She walks back closer to me, and the energy in the room shifts. “Is that all you want to do for me?”

My cock twitches in anticipation. Fuck no, that’s not all I want. Apparently, when it comes to Sadie, I have no self-control. I’ve been given a second chance to stop before things escalate, before I do something that’s going to land me in a heap of shit with Trigger and the other guys, and what do I do? I kiss her again.

This time, there’s nothing to stop us.

She presses her hands against my chest as I pull her closer, hands sliding down to caress her perfect ass. She tugs at my shirt, pulling it off before helping me to remove hers. Piece by piece, we peel away our layers until we’re bared completely to each other.

Her body is like a work of art, curves in all the right places, long, toned legs with strong thighs, full breasts and hips, a slight curve to her stomach, and hip dips that drive me insane. I can’t stop touching her, feeling every inch of her skin, so soft under the calluses of my fingers.

Her nails trace the contours of my body, her hand stroking my cock, making it grow even harder at the slightest touch. I know I’m not as big as Trigger, the man likes to flaunt the damn thing at every opportunity, but I’m sizeable enough, certainly never had any complaints, and if Sadie is disappointed, she does a good job of hiding it.

We move in sync toward the bed, not breaking our kisses and exploration as she lies down against the pillows, and I climb on top. My fingers stroke her inner thighs, moving up to run along her seam, feeling how wet she is already for me. She moans and moves against my hand, encouraging me on.

I slide a finger inside her, slowly circling her clit with my tongue. She wraps her arms around my neck, kissing me, pulling me closer, and she moves slowly against my hand. Her hand snakes down to stroke my cock, pulling me closer to her, stroking the tip of my cock against her soaking wet seam. I want to taste her, want to take my time, but she looks in my eyes and says, “I want you,” and when she guides me to her entrance, I don’t stop her.

She grips my ass, pulling me deep inside her in one thrust, crying out as I fill her, spreading her wide. It takes a moment for her body to adjust to me, and then I slowly start to thrust in and out. I don’t stop kissing her as she wraps her arms around my neck, her legs around my waist, holding me close.

Part of me knows the reason she wants this, needs this, is because she’s scared, and that, for some strange reason, I make her feel safer. I don’t know if that means I’m taking advantage of her, or if I’m giving her exactly what she needs.

I know that she’s giving me exactly what I needed, too, and I didn’t even realize how badly I needed this connection with someone.