Page 21 of Bitten By the Basilisk

He got on first, then it was her turn to mount the raised passenger seat. She held his shoulders for support as she swung her leg over the bike, the mere grip of her hands bringing him pleasure.

Then the weight and heat of her body pressed against his lower back as her warm thighs gripped his sides, and he nearly groaned. Not getting hard was about to become a real challenge.

Her presence behind him felt so right it seemed destined. Riding alone would never again be as enjoyable.

He turned his head to point at the device mounted to the side of his helmet. “You see this? Squeeze here to turn yours on,” he said, demonstrating.

“Got it.” A few seconds later, her voice entered his helmet. “Can you hear me?”

“Loud and clear,” he confirmed. Her mic picked up a gasp. “Volume too high?”

“N-no. You just…have a nice voice.”

He grinned, leaning forward to grip the throttle and start his bike. The low roar of the engine vibrated the seat. “Good to know. Hold on tight, kitten.”

Her mic picked up another sound—a breathy whimper that made his cock twitch. She molded the rest of her upper body to his back, angling herself to see over his right shoulder, and wrapped her arms around his waist in a secure hold.

“You’re a natural,” he praised, purposefully speaking in a low purr. As hoped, her thighs squeezed him tighter. He anticipated finding out how she felt without layers of clothing between them, skin on slippery skin. “Ready to head out?”

“More than ready,” came her husky response.

Fuck. Now he had half a stock.

“Here we go.” He tilted the bike a degree, raised the kickstand, then twisted the throttle, setting his boots on the footrests as the bike picked up enough speed to leave the parking lot.

“My plan is to give you a tour of town on our way to each mural,” he said as he drove them east toward the historic district, where there was a concentration of permanent cultural attractions.

“I like that plan.” She sounded out of breath.

“You doing okay?”

She gave a small laugh. “My heart’s racing.”

“First ride’s always a thrill,” he agreed. “Want me to go faster?”

She held him tighter. “Yes!”

The streets of Indigo Cove were never deserted, even when excluding ghosts, but at this time of night, they were as empty as they ever got, so Silas leaned down, bringing his passenger with him, and cranked the throttle.

Alice squealed with joy. A few blocks later, she squealed again, instinctively leaning with him as he took a swift turn toward the local maritime museum and the first of the murals he intended to show her.

In keeping with the town’s history, the side of the building that faced the parking lot featured a detailed rendering of an old-world ship sailing into Mystic Harbor. Silas pulled into the nearly empty lot and parked his ride with the headlight pointed straight at the mural, lighting it up.

“Oh wow,” Alice said with awe, sitting up behind him.

“This is the Tempest, our most famous pirate ship.”

“That’s the one that sometimes appears in the harbor, right?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“It’s incredible. I love the use of light, how it hits the sails, and the way the ship is framed by the clouds and water, drawing my focus.”

As soon as she pointed it out, he saw exactly what she meant. The mural was expertly composed.

“The colors are so vibrant, even at night,” she noted. “It’s like a movie scene.”

“Cynthia mentioned you’re an artist,” he remarked. “Have you ever wanted to tackle something this big?”