AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Right.” He moves into place behind me. Reaching over my shoulders, Zeke adjusts the handlebars to my height, then helps me reposition the side mirrors. “How’s that feel?”
“Good.”
With one arm around my waist, he points at the various levers and buttons as I repeat their purpose back to him. Once he’s satisfied that I have a good grasp on things, Zeke moves closer, his thighs bracketing my hips as his second arm circles me. I swallow deep, unused to his proximity, a little flustered by the idea that his cock is pressed to my backside right now. Our previous lessons didn’t entail him sitting behind me as he preferred to stand on the side lines and direct me through each skill, step-by-step.
This situation is a whole new ballgame.
“Now, I want you to start the engine.” I do as I’m told, holding the machine upright with ease as it throbs and reverberates beneath me. Zeke curls into my back and rests his chin on the edge of my shoulder. Over the rumble of the engine, he yells, “Now you need to put everything I’ve taught you into action… you’re going to take us to Northam.”
With my heart in my throat and my nerves jangling, I mentally map out our destination and try my best to anticipate any tricky parts between us and the next town over. Satisfied that I’m not in for any nasty surprises that I can’t handle, I ease off the brake lever at the same time as I let the clutch out and roll on a little throttle. The Harley becomes weightless as momentum pulls the heavy machine upright without my assistance.
“Fuck yes,” I mutter to myself as I shift up into second gear, then lift my feet up onto the foot pegs. “Easy peasy.”
My pleasure is short-lived.
“Indicator,” Zeke shouts when we reach the merge lane. Frowning as an embarrassed blush travels up my neck, my thumb hits the button to activate the indicator. I do my best to shake off my mortification over failing to remember one of the basic skills of driving, then I check the mirrors for approaching traffic before I pull onto the highway. Teeth gritted, I slowly creep along the road until he tells me, “It’s time to see how well you listened to me, Lil.”
I take his comment as permission to go faster.
Third gear.
Fourth.
Fifth.
As I reach the speed limit, my confidence grows high enough for me to loosen up a little. The trees lining the fences whip past. Gold and green wheat crops growing in the paddocks become a blur. I watch the white line, sitting in the middle of the lane, as we eat up the distance. When an overtaking zone appears in the horizon, I roll the throttle to pick up pace, kicking the Harley into top gear as we round up a slower vehicle and then a road train.
Settling into the rhythm of the bike once the road in front of us is clear, I allow my posture to droop. Zeke has stressed the importance of being one with the machine instead of fighting it. He told me to lean with the bike into corners, not to try to muscle it into a turn, and as we take a swooping right-hand bend his explanation finally makes sense.
It’s counterintuitive, exactly the opposite of how you steer a car, yet it works.
A few minutes later, Zeke pats my stomach and I back off the throttle, using the gears to slow the engine rather than stomping the rear brake pedal and potentially locking the back wheel. “You’re a fuckin’ natural, Lily. Scarlett would be proud as hell.”
Tears well in my eyes at his heartfelt words, and I swallow past the lump that lodges in my throat at the thought of my long-gone mother. Zeke rubs my thigh, as if he knows the effect his words are having on me, before putting his hands back on my stomach.
He taps my lower belly.
Another silent instruction.
I pick up speed, moving through the gears again, only a little jerky when I misjudge the timing between fourth and fifth. Once I’m back at top speed and we’re through the twisty section halfway between Inadale and Northam, Zeke glides his hands under the bottom hem of my jacket. The heat from his skin through the thin camisole I’m wearing under my long-sleeved shirt gives me goosebumps. I shiver, inhaling sharply when he starts making lazy circles with his thumbs over my belly.
I stiffen, scared to spook him.
We ride in silence. The rumble of the engine, the whirl of the tyres on the bitumen, and the occasional bird squawk are the only sounds I can make out over the pounding of my pulse in my ears. My breathing hitches with each new circuit of his thumbs. Eventually, Zeke’s fingers venture under my camisole and he strokes the bare skin of my stomach in a slow, sensual rhythm. Every now and then, his thumbs graze the underside of my bra.
Zeke’s touch is wreaking mayhem on my psyche.
Caught in two minds, I can’t decide if I like that he’s made the first move in the game of cat and mouse I’ve been trying to play with him or if I’m being naive because his caress isn’t meant the way my body is taking it. Swallowing deep as the eighty-kilometre sign in the distance announces that we’re almost at Northam, I do my best to tell myself that I’m reading too much into his actions.
What if he’s only trying to offer encouragement or comfort?
The erection pressing against my backside is an interesting counterpoint.
As doubt and uncertainty, along with a large serving of longing, clouds my mind, I decide to just chalk it up to a win. Zeke’s touching me. I’m happy about it, as the butterflies that reign supreme in my stomach can attest.
Plus, I need all my concentration to ride my bike properly. With a head shake, I banish all thoughts of the man behind me and force myself to concentrate on navigating the roundabouts that lead toward the town centre.
“Pull into the next parking lot,” Zeke instructs when we come to a stop at the only set of traffic lights in Northam. “I’ll buy you some cake.”
