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"Fine, but I want ten uninterrupted minutes."
Helping her to her feet, I take Mya's hand in mine, giving it a little squeeze before turning around so she can hop on my back. Neither of us speak as we make our way around the pond to where we left my bike. Her tits are pressed against my back. I can feel the heat from her core through my shirt at the base of my spine, and my dick is standing at attention by the time we reach the end of the path.
Releasing my grip on her thighs, she slides down my back, my cock jumping at the friction.
My feet are rooted to the grass, my eyes locked on her ass as she sashays past me. The sway of her hips is inviting. The curve of her cheeks begging to be touched, squeezed. When she bends to pick up her helmet from where it fell, I almost come in my pants.
Without waiting for me to prompt her, she places it on her head, adjusting the strap. As she climbs on the back of my bike, she lets out a groan.
I feel my resolve snap, my long legs carrying me to her in three strides. My hands grip her hips and lift her off the seat, her swift intake of breath audible as I reposition her on top of me as I move to straddle my bike.
"What are you doing?" she asks, her eyes searching mine for answers as her chest rises and falls rapidly.
My hands skim up her body and over the breast of my jacket until I reach the zipper. Slowly tugging it down, Mya shudders as the clasp releases. I push it off her shoulders, and Mya sucks her bottom lip between her teeth, the motion drawing my attention to her lips.
Adrenaline courses through my veins, my need compounding by the second. To be inside her. To consume her. To claim her. Today. Tomorrow. Forever.
"Mya, I..." I let my voice trail off when she reaches between us, her hand slipping between her legs. I'm about to swat it away, to take over for her, when I hear the distinct sound of a snap being released, and then my girl is tugging the material from between her legs.
"Where are your panties?" I growl.
"I'm not wearing any."
"How the hell do I get these off?" I ask, pinching the material of her fishnet tights.
"I'm sure you'll find a way if you want what's underneath."
Lifting my eyes so I'm staring directly at her, my hands slide down her body. Working my way up her legs, I test the strength of the material. When I reach the juncture of her thighs, I run my hand over her core, keeping my touch light, barely grazing her clit. It's enough to have her sucking her lip between her teeth again. After the third pass, I grip the material in each hand and pull it away from her aching center.
I'd love to say it shreds in my hands, that I'm an actual superhero who can destroy any material with the slightest tug, but that's not the case. In fact, it takes me three tries to make a small hole and two more to make enough room for me to slip my fingers inside her.
All while she giggles. That ends the moment I slip two fingers through her slick folds, her laughter getting caught in her throat as she lets out a moan.
I find her clit with my thumb, rubbing in circles the way I know she likes as I continue to pump my fingers inside her. Mya attempts to thrust against my hand, lifting her hips when I push inside her. It's still not enough.
"Tell me what you need, dove."
"I. Need. You."
"You have me. You've always had me. You just have to stop running."
My words silence her as her walls clench around my fingers.
"What do you need, Mya? Tell me, and I'll give it to you."
"I need you inside me." Her voice is strained as she thrusts against my hand again.
"I am." I'm also ready to pop out of my jeans. I need her to say the words. Because I didn't plan this.
"Brady, please," she begs, her head lulling back, her breasts in my face. Removing my fingers from her slick folds, I reach up and release her gorgeous breasts from the confines of her bodysuit, taking her nipple into my mouth.
Mya grinds against my erection, finding a rhythm that works for her, moaning in my ear as I bury my face in her chest.
"I need more. I need you," she whispers in my ear as I thrust against her.
Releasing her nipple with a pop, I lean back and stare down at her. "I don't have a condom. And don't tell me that's okay because it's not. Even if you don't think you can end up pregnant, I respect you too much. I want you to know that I worship you, and part of showing you is by protecting you."
Tears sting the corner of her eyes, and I can see the rejection she feels. Which is why I wrap my arms around her and hold her hostage.
