Page 38 of Stolen By Her Alien Mate

I wrap my arm around her waist and lead her back outside.

As we approach my Harley, she slants me a look shaking her head. “Such a cliche.”

“What?” I ask. “Is this motorcycle not an acceptable vehicle?”

She bumps her shoulder against mine playfully. “A Harley is right out of the bad boy playbook. It’s not just acceptable; it’s practically mandatory.”

Despite her teasing tone, something about her words worries me.

I turn to her, cupping my hands on her shoulders. “I am not a bad man, Joey Kincaid.”

Her teasing smile turns into a full grin as she chuckles. The sound tightens my groin, and I’m hit with the almost irritable urge to cup her jaw line, to press my blossoming marks against hers. To deepen the bond between us and mark us both.

Before I can, she steps away, shaking her head again, clearly bemused. “Nope, not a bad man. A bad boy. It’s something else entirely. Seriously, where did you learn English again?”

I think back to the book Lorraine loaned me and remember that the heroine of the novel had used the term “bad boy” as a compliment.

I pick up the helmet and hand it to her. “Ah. I understand the difference. But what is this playbook you think I have.”

She takes the helmet with a frown. “You only have one helmet? You don’t have one for yourself?”

“I don’t.”

“And you didn’t have one last night either.”

“Last night I didn’t expect you to ride on my Harley. I procured a helmet for you today.”

She tries to press the helmet back into my hands, but I take it from her and place it on her head, adjusting the straps and clicking it under her chin.

“The helmet is for you.” I don’t tell her that—already—my life has no value without hers. “Besides, the journey is not long.”

I climb on the motorcycle, and she climbs on behind me. Sliding right against me so that her thighs grip my ass. Her full tits press into my back, and my dick hardens even more. Frack. I want to sink myself inside her.

I’d spent some time this afternoon driving the motorcycle around town. Even after the time in the HSC, I had felt like I needed several hours on the motorcycle by myself before I was comfortable having Joey on the bike with me.

Now, I am glad I did. Riding the motorcycle is quite enjoyable. The thrum of the engine combined with Joey’s body pressed against mine is exhilarating.

I steer the motorcycle down the now familiar streets to the RV park. The shuttle’s viz emitters haven’t wavered in the time I’ve been here, so I’m not too concerned that Joey will even notice she’s boarding a spaceship.

I try not to let it bother me that I have to even think about that. She is from the stars. An heiress to an advanced and technologically superior world. I shouldn’t have to hide this from her.

Still, I don’t want to frighten her. Once we reach Perse, surely some earlier memories will surface. At the very least, by then it will be too late for her to return to Earth.

I pull the Harley around to the back of the shuttle, turn it off, and hold out a hand to help her climb down before climbing off myself.

She unlatches the helmet and holds it in her hands as she looks at the Winnebago.

Something like disappointment flickers across her face.

Obviously, the cloaking image I selected is not a popular one. The other RVs in the park look much nicer. But it’s not like I could have changed the image to match one of those once I arrived. Still, I hate that she seems disappointed in my living quarters.

I hate even more how easily she shakes off that disappointment. As if she’s used to making due with less than she deserves.

Someday, I will shower her with the riches and luxuries a princess of Perse deserves.

Still, I like how quickly her frown turns into a smile. “So … this is where you live?”

“For now.”