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Bou, get your dirty mind back on the matter at hand, I scolded myself.
He stood there, straddling Betty, with a dark brow raised to the sky, waiting. After a beat, he added, “And I’m going to relish every second of you following my orders.”
Cue the melting. My heart jumped in my chest. I hopped on. He reached forward and held the handlebars around me. His massive arms and long legs swallowing my body gave me shivers all over. At 5’8”, I towered over most women. Engulfed by him like this, I felt petite.
Betty purred as he opened the throttle. The vibration between my legs made my pussy clench. With his hands on the bars and his legs on either side of mine, I had nowhere to put my own hands, so I rested them on his tight thighs, feeling the denim on my palms. My fingers twitched as if they wanted to dig my claws into him. Chills crawled over my skin when I felt his hot breath on my ear.
“First.”
I shivered but pressed my left foot and shifted the bike from neutral into first gear. He rolled the throttle and lifted his feet from the ground. Betty swallowed the drive as he scooted his casted foot to the back of the left running board and reached his other one around my leg and forward to the break.
He squeezed the clutch and ordered, “Second.”
I shifted.
Wilde leaned to turn onto the highway and accelerated then repeated the routine. “Third.”
I was getting the hang of it. The give and take was almost as good as sex. It did nothing to help in drying out my panties. With his strong voice in my ear, my hands roaming his thighs, me helping him and giving him control at the same time, him owning both the machine and me, I cried out into the wind with the pleasure of how well we worked—and rode—together.
26
Wilde
Dusk had turned the desert almost purple as I rode. I fucking rode, all the time cradling Bou in my lap and her making this possible. But it was me driving, me in control, and Bou responding to my every command when it came to shifting Betty. That feeling...this woman between my thighs... I’d fucking died and despite all my badassery and sins, I’d gone to heaven. We leaned, we clicked, we rolled, we rode together. I didn’t want to make the turn to where this would all come to a stop, but she pointed to the exit. It was too goddamn bad this sappy togetherness was a temporary escape from my pathetic excuse of an existence.
Being the motherfucker that I was, I was going to act like a little girl with pigtails and play house with Bou for another couple of weeks before I dragged my sorry ass back to reality to face my old man. From time to time, we could take a break from the domestic role-playing game for a little twister or hide-and-fucking-seek—emphasis on fucking. My dick strained with mere anticipation.
Reluctantly, I grabbed the clutch and slowed. “Second,” I purred into Bou’s ear as I prepared to lean left into the turn.
“Third,” I growled as we gained speed and rolled through the turn.
Bou turned her head so I could hear her. “This is almost as good as having you inside me.”
My cock twitched.
“Not even fucking close,” I snarled. “It’s good, but not that good.”
Her shoulders shook with a laugh. “I said almost. Next right.”
We shifted through two more turns and crested another small hill. A little cluster of cabins around a bonfire came into clear view. I pulled up next to the line of bikes and cut the engine. Throwing an arm around Bou, we started for the fire. I didn’t hide the evidence of her effect on me as I adjusted my jeans.
I lifted my chin toward a cabin. “Think we could sneak into one of those first? You have me fucking rock-solid and weeping,” I murmured into her ear, inhaling that ambrosia that was all fucking Bou—orange, vanilla, and now sex.
She groaned and closed her eyes. I hoped for a split second, but Celt staggered over, glassy-eyed.
Before he made it within earshot, I whispered, “Take that braid out. I want to see that sexy hair loose and you free like this morning.”
I looked up just as her brother reached us and handed me a beer. Lifting the beer to my mouth, I covered my smirk as I saw her remove the rubber band and run her fingers through those long brown waves.
“Where’s mine?” Bou jutted a hip and held out a hand.
Celt’s eyelids drooped as he lifted a shoulder and tilted his head. “Sssorry, Sssis.”
“Celt,” Bou drawled. “How long have you been at this?”
“I dunno, since one. Nah . . . Two or ssso,” he slurred.
“What about the station?” she asked.
