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“Where is everyone?” I inquire.
Zane gives his nose one little tap then swipes up his helmet, ready to get a move on. “Need to know.” His focus flutters down my torso, but with a bit of effort, he admirably stops about navel level before swooping out an arm, gesturing for me to lead the way to the condo.
“Right. How could I forget? Silly me.” I scale the steps, turn down the walkway, and approach the door, but then step aside and relieve Zane of my bag so he can dig out the key and let us in.
Once inside, we put down all our stuff, and the two of us just kinda stand there, looking at each other like, “What now?”
Amid the pause in time, the weight of heavy leather over my practically completely bare body returns to my senses. “Oh! Thank you so much for the jacket. Riding without it covering me would have been quite the experience.” I take it off and hold it out to him.
“Yeah. Ah, no problem.” Zane rubs the back of his neck with one hand and shifts from foot to foot while accepting his jacket with his other hand. The curls on top of his head have flattened slightly from his helmet, so I reach out and wiggle my fingers through them. He dips his head down to help me get to them, but the task is easy with my tall heels on. His instinctive reaction, as the tallest Hell for Leather member who is also likely unaccustomed to a woman nearly meeting his height, is super cute, though.
I step back and take my turn at moving my gaze down his body. However, unlike him, I have no problem continuing past his navel. As wondered, he is ripe for the pickin’ — all juicy and fat behind his zipper.
Was my journey on the back of his bike into brief subspace enough? Nope. Of course not.
“Well, I need to get cleaned up. If you want to… hang out or whatever… after, it should only take me about fifteen minutes. Give or take.”
“Okay, yep. We can do that. Um, watch TV or something?”
“Mm-hmm. Or something.” I flash him an innocent, playful smile and immediately beeline it to the restroom, hoping with all hope that the products were kind to my skin.
Thankful for my stash that is kept here and renewed every six months regardless of if I have used it or not, I grab an unopened bottle of makeup remover and get to work right away.
The task proves easier than I anticipated, and there is no irritation other than what temporary pinkness comes from carefully scrubbing it all off. The slight sparkle residue left behind is damn near everywhere, though. I look like someone sprayed me with a light misting of glitter water or something.
Believe it or not, my eye makeup is more challenging to get off; I really caked it on earlier today, then added quite a bit more right before going out on stage. After tackling that, thoroughly cleaning and moisturizing my face, and giving myself a good overall wipe down, I throw on a loose tee and some boyshort underwear, call it good, and head back out—
But quiet noises from the other side of the closed door gives me pause — very primal sounding noises, ones I recognize all too well. Quiet puffs of breath and soft, deep throaty moans travel through the door. Another one of the guys could have shown up in the short time it has taken me in here, but I doubt that is the case. I think Zane is prepping himself for me, just on the other side of the door, where only a wall separates us so he can get even more worked up from the risk of getting caught.
I press my ear to the door, and my aching need returns, pooling between my freshly cleaned thighs. The tingly heat inside me worsens with each of his attempts to quieten the pleasure noises his body makes in response to his cock thrusting through his palm.
Before long, hissing grunts replace drawn out moans, shaky exhales replace short, choppy, needy breaths. Then, it all simply stops, and a moment later, I hear the quiet creak of the bed.
I open the door slowly and step across the threshold just in time to see him walking out of the room with the shirt he was wearing earlier gripped tightly in his fist, the dark veins in his hand now popping more visibly from the pump.
