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Chapter Seven
Devil
"Ilookridiculousin this thing," Jessie complains, glaring at me over the top of my bike. "Seriously, Devil. It looks like a dress on me."
"Good. Then you'll be suitably covered." I pass a brain bucket to her. "Put this on."
She shoots me a death glare. "Now I remember why I never rode with Risk."
"Because he made you wear a helmet?"
"Because he took all of the fun out of it," she mutters, shoving the helmet on her head. "I feel like a human marshmallow in all this crap."
She looks fucking adorable. Not that I'm going to make the mistake of telling her that. I may never get her on the back of my bike if I do. And the one place I want her nearly as bad as I want her naked in my bed is on my bike. Besides, after last night and this morning, that perfect little pussy of hers needs a break.
If I don't get her out of my cabin, she won't be getting that. She's too fucking tight, too hot, too wet, too perfect. I could die with her wrapped around my cock and not regret a second of it. The way she responds to me is a goddamn dream come true. She's exactly as feisty as I knew she would be. She gives as good as she gets and holds no part of herself in reserve.
My little iele is dripping my cum today, but I'm the one full of her. My fucking heart feels like it'll beat its way out of my chest at any moment in a swan dive into her hands. Does she know that I'd lay down my life for hers without hesitation? That I'd give up everything for her and not regret a second of it? She asked for something real last night. There is nothing more real than what's between us. My heart, my soul, my life is hers.
I climb on my bike and then order her on behind me.
"Are you ever not bossy?" she asks.
"Are you ever not sassy?"
"Nope."
I palm her ass, unable to resist. Those round cheeks have my bite marks all over them today. Shit, every part of her does. I couldn't keep my mouth off her once I got her naked last night. She loved every minute of it.
I've got matching bite marks on my shoulders, and my back is clawed all to hell.
It's a great fucking day.
Whatever comes tomorrow…well, I'll deal with that then. For now, I'm not thinking about it. All I'm worried about right now is my girl.
"Creed," she moans, pushing back against my hand.
I love when she says my name. I love that she's the only one here who calls me by my first name. Hell, she's the only one who's called me Creed in years. More often than not, we go by last names at work. I'm always Thomas. To her, I'm Creed.
"Mount it, baby."
She throws her leg over the bike and eases herself down. Despite my leathers being too big for her, she does it gracefully. I don't have to give her any instructions. She knows exactly what to do. As soon as her ass is in the seat, she slides forward, cuddling up against my back with her arms around my waist.
I groan when my dick stiffens in my pants. This is going to be a long fucking ride.
"Where are we going?" she shouts over the soft growl of the engine.
"You'll see!" I shout back. "Hang on, baby."
She squeezes me tight as I pull out. I start off slow, giving myself time to gauge her experience as a rider. By the time we're halfway down the road leading away from the club, any doubts I have dissipate. She's a natural, moving like she's an extension of my body and the bike. I pick up speed, heading for the highway.
The feel of her pressed up against me, the wind in my face, the growl of the engine in my ears, and the feel of the steel between my thighs silence the dull roar that's crowded my mind for weeks. For once, it all lies quietly. That's the thing about riding. Out here, nothing else matters. It's just you and the road. Who you are, the shit you've done, right and wrong…your bike doesn't give a fuck and neither does the road. It has no expectations of you and no plans for you beyond the next mile.
An hour later, I slow down and turn off the highway. Small rocks pop beneath the tires as we transition from concrete to gravel. Pine trees grow up on either side of the narrow lane, creating a thick canopy overhead. It's cooler beneath, darker.
Ten minutes later, we emerge on the far side and my fishing cabin comes into view. The two-story cabin is a little over an hour outside of Dallas. It's where I go when I need to get away. There are no neighbors for miles. Large windows overlook the small, private lake out back. It's peaceful, quiet.
I drive right up the porch and then kill the engine.
