Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 43478 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 217(@200wpm)___ 174(@250wpm)___ 145(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 43478 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 217(@200wpm)___ 174(@250wpm)___ 145(@300wpm)
“Hold this, Sweets.” I hand the helmet back to her. “Turn around for me, please.”
She does as I ask without hesitation, and I find her compliance to be a fucking turn on. I begin separating her hair and start the braid. Before I started shaving my head, I had long hair. There is nothing more aggravating after a ride than trying to untangle the knots if I didn’t take the time to braid my shit. Since this isn’t something, she’s used to, I don’t want to taint this memory with matted hair.
“Sugar, all you had to do was tell me to braid it.” She reaches behind her head to try to take over, as I lean down breathing heavy on her neck.
“Darlin, when you’re with me I braid your hair. This time, it’s so it doesn’t get a tangled mess on the ride. If we’re in the bedroom, I braid your hair, so it doesn’t get in the way. Get the picture, Sweets?” I tease as my cock hardens thinking about having her on all fours in front of me as I pump into her from behind while pulling her braid.
I watch as her breathing stops before she inhales big. Oh yeah, she feels this shit. She drops her hands, so I whisper with my lips brushing against her ear, “good girl.”
I feel her body tremble as I finish the braid. Since I don’t have a hair tie on me, I tuck the braid down the back of her shirt before guiding her to turn around to face me. With practiced ease, I put the helmet on her head as her eyes stay locked to mine.
“You ready to ride?”
“Yes, sir, you betcha,” she says with a passion and excitement I haven’t ever seen.
Barflies are desperate for a chance to ride bitch with one of us. They think it’s some kind of status. For some of us, it is a place reserved for their ol’ ladies, for others, they’ll take anyone for a ride. As for me, I don’t let barflies near my bike, period. I’ve had plenty of women and some have been sort of relationships, but I’ve never called someone my ol’ lady. I can’t say I’ve never had a broad ride bitch before, but not in any way that mattered. I don’t take my life too seriously, especially my relationships.
Club first. Always and forever.
I take her by the hand and lead her to my steel horse. Climbing on first, I get settled using my foot to get the kickstand up and steady the bike while she stares wide-eyed.
“Never done this before, Sugar. Gonna need some instructions,” she states with this confidence that I find sexy as fuck.
No hesitation.
No fear.
No judgement.
Taking her left hand in mine, I pull her closer. “Alright darlin’, you’re gonna swing your leg over and put your right foot on the foot peg, once you get that done, you just tuck in close to me while you find your seat and get that left foot on the peg. Got it?”
She nods and begins to move step-by-step according to the instructions. Her front presses against my back. Even with my cut on I can feel her, but this one time I wish it wasn’t there. I want nothing between us.
What the hell is wrong with me? This isn’t how I work.
As she gets situated, she releases my hand but wraps her arms around my waist with her chin on my shoulder, she whispers, “alright, Sugar, take me for a ride.”
Oh baby, will I ever!
Cranking the bike, the engine comes to life as she laughs with delight. I twist the throttle so she can feel the power right between her legs.
“Where to?” I ask.
“Anywhere, everywhere, Sugar!”
Now it’s my turn to laugh.
I take off with Raff following behind and go right up highway fifty-eight. As the bike and I go through the gears she squeals and squeezes me tightly. I give Raff a toss of my hand in the air to signal he can take off on his own. I want this time with the beauty behind me.
As I drop my left hand down, I rest it on her thigh.
Natural.
This feels natural. She fits against me perfectly.
“This is heaven! The air, the sound, the feel. I have never felt so alive in my life!” She yells out to the world.
We ride for a solid hour taking highway fifty-eight across the high-rise bridge and through Emerald Isle over through Atlantic Beach making a giant loop through Morehead City to come back down fifty-eight before she gives me her address and we are pulling into her driveway.
She lives in an average ranch style house in Peletier. It’s pale yellow with white shutters and a small porch with a swing. Classic southern Carolina style. As I steady the bike, she doesn’t climb off quickly, like I anticipate.