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When she did, he slid his arm around her to cup her ass again, pulling her against his side, her legs brushing his thigh. “Yep, totally thinking about sex.”
She gave him a light thump with a fist for the teasing, but then she smoothed her hands over his chest, enjoying the feel of it as he cocked a brow at her, an expression of waiting. To see what she wanted. What he could do for her.
Oh, so, so much. But she wanted breakfast. And to help him with his balance on his bike. Followed hopefully by a ride. First the bike, then the man.
On the way to his place last night, she’d detoured to her house to grab a couple things for an overnight bag. He’d suggested she include a pair of heavier weight jeans and a long-sleeve T-shirt, if she had one. “In case the balance stuff goes well, and you want to join me on a ride on some of the backroads around my place.”
She liked that idea. He’d also suggested boots to protect her ankles and calves from the heat of the bike’s exhaust.
“The rule is you dress for the slide, not the ride,” he told her. “At rallies and in states they don’t require helmets, even us more experienced bikers get slack about our protective gear, I won’t lie, but I’m not taking any chances with you.”
Fortunately motorcycle and Goth boots were remarkably similar, complete with thick tread and buckles. She’d gone through an alternative rock phase in her twenties, and then the boots had been repurposed for occasional role play with subs. His brow had raised when he saw them, but his slow sexy smile told her he approved.
Now he’d pulled a pewter-gray Harley he’d called a two-seater bobber out of the barn and guided it to the dirt track, walking side by side with her. The bike seemed more dinged up than his other two bikes, and he confirmed it was one he considered more of a workhorse, for off road or rougher terrain.
“This old girl’s a good choice for balance stuff around this dirt track, nothing too fast.”
When she passed her hand over the seat, he smiled. “Want to get on, get a feel for it?”
At her eager nod, he held her hand as she swung a leg over and settled on the driver’s seat. The steadiness of the bike was surprising. Her legs weren’t long enough for her to reach theground on both sides at once, but there were small platforms on either side for her to rest her feet upon.
“This one weighs just under six hundred, but when they’re parked, they’re sturdy. Long as you recognize it’s got a bit of a left lean because of the single kickstand.” He nodded to the ground, where he’d put a flat piece of wood under the stand. “Because the ground here at the track isn’t asphalt, I use that to increase the stability.”
He squeezed her hand. “If you want to stay seated on it while I spread out the cones, that’s fine. Just don’t move around too much when I’m not close by.”
As she watched him pick up a stack of cones and stride off onto the track, she thought of him sitting where she was now, his ass snugged down on the padded cushion, his legs straddling the bike. The vibration through his testicles when the engine was running.
A motorcycle seemed designed to make a sexy man look even sexier. She could easily call to mind the way his backside flexed as he mounted and dismounted, imagine the ripple across his shoulders as he gave the bike gas or leaned into a turn.
Carefully, making sure the bike stayed still, she leaned back on an elbow, tossed her hair and arched her spine. She was being playful, but she guessed it made women look sexy, too.
His wolf whistle confirmed it—and that he was keeping a close eye on her. She flashed a smile his way, which became something a little more serious at the look in his eyes.
When she typed into her phone, he came back. He always stayed aware of that, never making her wait when she wanted to “talk.” He bent to brush a kiss on her knee, laying a hand on her thigh, an intimacy she permitted. While they weren’t in session, she liked how he gravitated toward those gestures. She also liked his touch.
She handed him the phone. “I wouldn’t mind laying you out on the seat, your hands tied to the back. I’d suck on you until your thighs trembled and you got that fierce look in your eyes. Like you want to beg for mercy, but you never will, wanting me to test you as far as I like.”
His expression tightened as he read the words, eyes sparking with flame. “I’d ask for the privilege of switching places,” he responded. “Letting me eat your cunt until you screamed, grinding yourself against my face and ripping up my shoulders with your nails.”
His deep blue eyes came back to hers, and she saw the hunger he’d had to bank after she brought herself to climax on his kitchen table. “It’s a hard limit because I’ve seen too much blood drawn in my lifetime, for the wrong reasons. But it’s different when it’s with you.”
It was a significant declaration, one she wouldn’t gloss over. She trailed her fingers along her denim-covered thigh, rocked her knee outward. With a pointed gaze downward, she mouthed the words. “Kiss me.”
She moved her fingers to the button of the jeans, slipped it and pushed down the zipper. He steadied the bike as she lifted her feet to the handlebars so she could raise her hips and slide the jeans down over her knees. She wanted him to see the silk panel between her thighs.
One kiss.A raised finger she pressed to her mouth. Shook her head when she touched it to her tongue and teeth.
Just a kiss. No tongue or teeth.
“Time limit?” he asked, gleam in his gaze.
She used her phone for that. “If you lift your mouth from my skin, that’s one kiss.”
He smiled, a destructive weapon to a woman’s defenses when coupled with those hot, dangerous eyes and firm mouth. But as he shifted his gaze to what she’d revealed, she could see himthinking it through, a careful man weighing his options to make the most of them. He gripped her thigh, his palm warm, and lowered his head.
One lingering, pressed kiss on the fabric between her legs, and her body dampened for him. She heard the shift in his breathing as he inhaled her scent. A long, thorough, slow-moving pressure of his lips ensued as they slid along her flesh with that thin barrier between. No break in contact. His mouth explored every contour and crease.
Oh, he was so damn good at this. Good enough to keep. An unsettling thought, and one that led to another one. What were Tiger’s thoughts on relationships, a commitment to one Mistress alone?
