Page 5 of My Wild Biker

He looks at me long and something shifts in his expression, like he's calculating, considering.

Then that slow grin returns.

"Best offer I've had in years, darlin'."

He kisses me again.

Harder this time, hungrier. His hands slide down to grip my ass and lift me slightly against him. I make another sound and he swallows it. The kiss goes until I'm dizzy, until my thighs press together and my hands shake.

When we break apart, I'm flushed, pulse racing.

"Follow me." My voice sounds rough.

"Yes ma'am."

I get in my car with hands not entirely steady. He walks to his motorcycle and swings on, kick-starts it. The engine rumbles loud in the quiet lot.

I pull out and he follows.

His headlight bright in my rearview.

The ride to my rental is ten minutes but feels longer.

I watch his headlights and think this is a good decision.

One night with a hot older man who knows what he's doing, scratch the itch, leave Sunday with good memories. Simple and clean and contained.

Chapter 2 — Chuck

Her rental is a small house on the residential side of town, one of those furnished places landlords keep for short-term contracts. Porch light on, yard neat, nothing personal visible from outside.

She parks in the driveway and I pull up behind her, kill the engine. The quiet after is loud, just cicadas and my pulse in my ears.

She gets out of her car and walks back to me. I'm still straddling the bike when she stops close enough, and I smell her perfume under the August heat, something clean and a little sweet.

"You're sure about this?" I keep my voice low.

"Are you?"

"Darlin', I've been sure since you asked what took me so long."

She smiles and it does something to her face that kicks my pulse higher. Then she turns and walks to her front door, hips swaying in those jeans that fit her curves like they were made for the job, and I follow because there's not a chance in hell I'm doing anything else.

Inside, it's generic rental furniture, beige walls, nothing decorative except a canvas print of a beach sunset that probably came with the place. Her two suitcases sit against the wall by the couch, evidence of a life that fits in luggage.

She drops her bag on the kitchen counter and turns to face me.

We stand there maybe three seconds.

Then she closes the distance and kisses me first, her hands sliding up my chest to my shoulders.

I grip her hips and pull her flush against me, feel her curves press everywhere. She makes a small sound and opens her mouth and I take advantage, deepening the kiss until she's gripping my cut to stay steady.

Her body is soft against mine, substantial and real. I walk her backward until her shoulders hit the wall near the door, pin her there with my hips while my hands map her body over clothes.

When I slide both hands under her shirt she gasps against my mouth.

"This okay?"