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She came back, smiling, and I was eyeballing the obvious hickey I’d put on her neck last night. What am I? Sixteen? Fuck sakes.
“Oh yeah,” she whispered with an eyebrow wiggle. “After experiencing it, I know the blindfold will make it worth it. I mean, you found my g-spot and my previously non-existent gag reflex in the same day.”
“Come here,” I ordered.
She crawled back into the bed from the bottom, slowly, seductively, but then teased, “No point starting something we can’t finish until after we get more-”
“Not that, just this,” I said, grabbing her by the armpits, hauling her the rest of the way up, then I hooked the back of her neck to pull her mouth to mine, turning her to her back as I kissed her.
It went on for a long time before she pulled away.
“We gonna go or what?” she asked, scooting away from me.
“Or what?” I returned, leaned over, and scooped her back with my arm around her waist. I started tickling her.
She cackled with glee, trying to get away.
I pinned her arms over her head and stared into her eyes.
She sucked on her lip.
Our eyes got locked for a long minute, before her eyes changed, panic rising in them.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“Can’t let things get too far or you might get all salty about not havin’ a condom.”
“I’m cool with makin’ out for now.” I ran my nose up her jawline and felt her body relax. She put her tongue to my earlobe, rolling to her side.
“Oy. Get away from my ear with that little tongue until we get more condoms, woman.” I swatted her sweet ass and then tagged her hand to pull her out of the bedroom with me.
“See! Salty.”
I laughed. “Makin’ out is one thing, messing with my ear is another.”
“Oh? The earlobe is a magical spot, is it?” she asked like it was the most interesting tidbit of information she’d heard.
“Mainline to my dick, baby. But actually, one of many,” I rasped against her throat, pinning her against the wall beside the door.
“I’ll be filing that one away,” she vowed and then she suckled my lobe and earned herself another swat on the ass, which made her giggle.
***
Once we were in the truck I wrapped a bandana I’d found in the closet of the bunk room around her eyes. She pulled on her sunglasses and a borrowed Harley Davidson ball cap she’d found hanging on a hook by the front door and it made the blindfold less obvious.
“You want more quizzin’ to distract you?”
“Off our covert mission you mean?”
“Yeah,” I returned with a grin. “That.”
“How about I quiz you?” she offered an alternative.
“Shoot,” I invited.
“How old are you?”
I turned the truck on and answered while backing out onto the road. “Twenty-eight. You?”
“It’s rude to ask a lady her age,” she volleyed.
“There’s that double standard,” I muttered. “You younger than me or older than me?” I returned.
“Younger. You think I look older?” she asked, startled.
I pulled breath in through my teeth and waited a beat, before warning, “Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to.”
She gasped in horror.
I laughed.
“Mean!” she accused.
“Twenty-five?” I tried.
“Nice save,” she advised with a big smile. “Twenty-seven. When’s your birthday?”
“February. Yours?”
“Same. Mine’s February 29,” she informed, “meaning I’m technically, way, way younger than you.”
I whistled low. “Then technically I could get in trouble for what we did back there at the cabin.”
“Ha,” she laughed. “Guess we can’t do it anymore.”
I scoffed. “As if.”
“Good thing you’re a biker. Bikers don’t like rules. When’s your birthday?”
“Mine’s the day a lotta people get chocolate for half price.”
“The day after Valentine’s Day?”
“Bingo.”
“Aw, a cupid baby. That’s adorable.”
“Next time you see my ma, don’t let her show you the baby album.”
“There a cupid pic in there?”
I touched my index finger to her nose.
“Aw!” she exclaimed.
I snickered. “Born two minutes after midnight so just missed it.”
“Next question…” she continued, “favorite book?”
“Can’t answer. Too many to list.”
“Favorite authors?”
“Again, too many to list. But top of the heap’d be Steinbeck, King, Ludlum. Koontz, Grisham, Crichton, Cornwell, Lovecraft-”
“I take it you like to read.”
“I like to read,” I confirmed. “You?”
“Not particularly. Not since I was a kid. Though I read about half a dozen magazines in Jojo’s room. Some of them had chicken soup for the soul type stories. Got me all up in my feelings. Maybe I’ll read that book you’ve had your nose in when you’re done.”
“Got a couple paperbacks with me. And there’s another shelf full of ‘em in the basement if you wanna browse. Some chick ones there, too, probably Jojo’s.”
She fidgeted and blew out a stuttered breath so I knew she needed to keep talkin’ so she wouldn’t get too in her own head about the blindfold.
“Next question, hostage. Shoot…”
“Uh… favorite TV show?”
“Not a big fan of TV. You?”
“Love TV.”
“What do you like to watch?”
