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I let go with a growl, squeezed her ass in my hands as I poured myself into her. I shoved in deep, losing myself in the pleasure, her pussy milking me with hungry little pangs as another helpless orgasm made her convulse.
When I’d finished, I squeezed her ass again, my cock still buried deep. She was panting.
“Hot, warm, or cold, Jolie?” I asked her.
“Hot,” she sobbed. “Hot…”
Afterwards, I gave her a bath. Then I dressed her in one of my T-shirts and tucked her into bed. I massaged her feet and her legs and her hips with lotion. She’d been kneeling a long time for me. Even with the support of the bench, it wasn’t effortless.
Then I slid in with her and massaged her neck, her shoulders.
She fell asleep, limp against my chest. And my cock got hard, just watching her sleep.
She was perfect.
Perfect.
Except for that one word.
California.
I didn’t love her choice of a safeword, or what it implied. That maybe that was her safe place; away from me and all of this.
But she needed to have that choice.
It was her full stop. It was the wall she’d put up between us, if she ever felt like she needed to.
And regardless, it was our end date.
California was the place where whatever was between us went to die.
* * *
One of Dane’s vehicles was parked at the curb in front of my building when I rolled up, my bike and even more so Lex’s Harley behind me roaring, obnoxiously amplified by the row of tall, close-set buildings along either side of the street. Obviously, Dane heard us coming. His driver/bodyguard was opening his door for him and he was already climbing out of the SUV.
I slowed and pulled off the street, rolling up to my parking gate on my brand new Harley-Davidson Sportster-S. Lex pulled in beside me as Dane strolled up.
“The fuck is this?” Dane shouted over the noise. But he was sort of smiling.
“My birthday present.” I opened the parking gate with my remote.
“From who?”
“Me.”
I rolled into the lot with Lex. Dane followed on foot. I parked next to my other bike and Lex backed into one of the guest spots. As I shut down the Sportster and got off, I heard Dane’s voice again; he was somewhere behind me as I took off my helmet. “Jesus Christ.”
“I know, right?”
He was crouching down, checking out the bike. It was black and bronze, stylish as hell. And I’d already had it customized. Including adding a passenger seat over the tail and modifying the exhaust; now it had a nice growl to it that sounded kinda like my Mustang Shelby.
“Hate to say it. This bike looks like it was made for you.”
“Yup.”
He got to his feet. “So. Broke down and bought a sport Harley, huh?”
“About time,” Lex said, because he was a Harley snob. He sauntered over. “He can’t exactly go cruising with me on his crotch rocket.”
