Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 82411 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82411 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
His hand is warm in mine as I let him lead me from the kitchen.
Misty explained what a toy run is a few minutes before he showed back up, but it still doesn’t relieve the fear that has managed to crawl inside of me.
I’ve learned to listen to the warnings my body gives me. I’ve made a lifetime of bad decisions when ignoring those signs. Some, that, like today, I fear could leave me hurt or dead. I’ve done very well to curb my thrill-seeking behaviors as I’ve gotten older.
“You’re trembling,” he says when we make it outside and are standing next to a machine I’m sure he loves. The massive thing scares me to death. “I’ll keep you safe. Just hold on to me and lean when I lean. Today is a slow ride. We aren’t doing anything crazy.”
When he faces me, curling his finger under my chin and urging me to look at him rather than the death trap beside us, I can’t help but look up into his eyes. The man has to know what this little action does to any woman.
His eyes dart between mine, but instead of assuring me once again that I’m safe with him, he simply leans down and presses his lips to mine. I fully expect him to pull back just as quickly, but he lingers, his tongue sweeping forward and breaking the seal of my lips.
I groan into his mouth, my arms instinctively circling around him as I try to get closer.
“Mmm,” he groans as he pulls his head back much too soon.
“Can’t we stay?” I ask, making his eyes shine even brighter.
“No, sweetheart. Now get on that bike. I want that warm pussy of yours right up against me.”
A flash of embarrassment heats my cheeks as I dart my eyes around. No one is paying us any attention, and, for that, I’m grateful. Because Miles has been a member of the Cerberus MC for years, there are really no ill opinions of the club floating around Lindell, but the people I’ve met so far are also nothing like the bikers I’ve seen on television shows either.
His mouth, on the other hand, is exactly what I’d expect from one of those shows and, honestly, it sort of thrills me to be on the receiving end of that filth. I don’t think he’d say such things loud enough for others to hear, but there’s a certain rush to the fact that they could overhear it. His words would make the old ladies back home reach for the pearls at their throats, and I sort of love that.
Derrick hands me a helmet and then helps me with the clasp before he climbs on his bike. He holds out his hand to me once he has pulled the massive thing up, relieving the kickstand of its duty. I take his hand and climb up.
“Spread your legs and slide all the way against my back. Yeah, just like that.”
The tone of his voice isn’t very different from the way he praises me in the bedroom, and it shoots arousal up my spine.
“Feel good?” he asks, looking over his shoulder.
I swallow before nodding my head.
“Just wait for the vibrations,” he says, and it sounds more like a warning than anything else.
I look around the group, noticing that almost every rider has a woman on the back of their bikes.
There’s a man chatting with a woman who is wearing a leather cut, but he’s on his own bike. There’s also another woman wearing a cut with her arms wrapped around a guy who’s also wearing the three-headed dog on his back.
There are so many people I haven’t met yet, and it makes me wonder if this will all come crashing down around us before I get the chance to know anyone.
Derrick wasn’t wrong about the vibrations. I feel them all the way through my bones when he cranks the motorcycle.
“My hands are sweaty,” I tell him, terrified I won’t be able to grip on to him.
“Just wipe them on my jeans,” he urges, taking my hands and running them up his thighs.
I smack at him when he, no doubt purposefully, runs my hand right up the front of the denim over his cock.
I’m so close to him, I can feel his laughter rumble through his back.
“Hold on,” he urges, as the rider to our left pulls out.
It’s too late to back out. I know it’s probably unhealthy to be doing something that my head is screaming at me to put a stop to, but I’d never risk embarrassing myself, much less Derrick, by freaking out like a child.
By the time we make the first turn, that fear transitions into something different. After the first stop to pick up toys from a little general store, I can’t seem to wipe the smile from my face.