Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 105506 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 528(@200wpm)___ 422(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105506 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 528(@200wpm)___ 422(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
And then we were on the road again.
On our way home.
CHAPTER
FIFTEEN
We’d been riding less than an hour when Colby pulled off the highway and took us to some kind of underpass or storm drain. Whatever it was, it was a tunnel under the highway. It was deserted though covered in graffiti to show how far rebellious teenagers had ventured in order to have some fun. I knew what it was like… Being a teenager in my hometown, we’d been willing to go even further.
“What are we doing here?” I asked when he stopped the bike in the middle of the wide tunnel.
Colby didn’t answer, he just got off the bike. I frowned, doing the same.
“Unbutton your jeans and bend over the bike,” he ordered coldly.
I stared at his impassive face for a moment before noticing that his cock was rock hard in his jeans. My mouth moistened at the sight.
“Here?” I stuttered.
I could hear the cars overhead on the highway. The landscape itself was quite deserted, but the beer bottles and graffiti were a sign that people came here. That people could come here.
“Don’t make me ask again.”
Shaking, and with soaked panties, I did as he asked, laying my forearms on the warm bike seat.
Colby didn’t hesitate to snatch the waistband of my jeans and haul them down, panties and all.
The cold air bit against my bare skin. I felt exposed. Excited. And I wasn’t prepared for Colby’s palm to come down on the skin of my ass.
I jerked in pain. And pleasure.
“Told you you’d pay for leaving me sleeping, to wake up without you.” Shivers raced down my spine as he spoke against my ear. Shivers that we’re not unpleasant. Not at all. I arched my back higher, presenting myself to him.
His hand came down on my ass once more, in the exact same spot, pain shooting to my feet, pleasure erupting in my pussy.
“You gonna do it again?” Colby asked, voice hoarse.
I shook my head, unable to speak. I was too choked up by the variety of sensations, the highway sounds, the crisp air, the open environment, my overwhelming need to come.
Colby shifted behind me, his belt clanking, his boots crunching on the ground underneath. He seized my hips, then his cock pressed against my drenched pussy, my breath fleeing me as the head slipped inside of me.
I clutched at the bike, trying to steady myself, trying not to topple the fucking bike over, not explode right there and then.
“Sariah,” Colby grumbled, warning in his tone. “Are you going to do it again?”
A small, rational and sane part of me urged me to argue. I could get out of bed at whatever time, whenever the fuck I wanted.
“I won’t do it again,” I rasped, trying to move myself back, to ease more of him inside me.
Colby gripped my hips harder. “Thought you’d fight me on that,” he muttered, his voice tight. I could feel his hunger, his need for me. But he was controlling it. To torture me.
That only served to turn me on further.
“I’ll fight you on other things,” I managed. “Many things.”
His lips found my neck. “Good.”
Then he slammed into me.
I cried out in ecstasy as he held me steady, bracing myself against the bike as the sounds of vehicles raced above us.
My body sang for him in that underpass full of beer bottles and graffiti, the desert air kissing our bodies.
I hadn’t thought I’d be into getting taken like this. I’d thought it would make me feel like trash, make me feel used.
And maybe, in a way, it did. Maybe a dark, wrong part of me liked that.
But I also felt fucking worshipped. Powerful.
No matter what, I fucking loved it.
We took our time making the journey back to New Mexico. I wasn’t sick of being on the road, wasn’t sick of being on the bike. And I definitely wasn’t sick of Colby. Truthfully, I could’ve lived like that, with him, and would’ve been content for the rest of my life.
Maybe, one day, I’d even be happy.
But riding around the country with Colby forever wasn’t really an option. Though my bank account was ample, I couldn’t live off it forever, not if I wanted to retire rich—which I did. I had fantasies about being the eccentric, rich aunt who painted, had various vaguely erotic sculptures in her yard and jetted off to Europe at a moment’s notice—first class, of course.
Those fantasies would not be funded by my current bank balance. I had to figure out how I was going to spend the rest of my life, if I was going to go back to school. How I was going to get to rich aunt status if I wasn’t going to be a wildly alternative and brilliant psychiatrist.
Then there were Colby’s commitments. I hadn’t missed his phone calls, the ones he took out of earshot from me. He told me he’d been on and off the road looking for me for the past two years, spending some time with the club in New Mexico and the rest scattered across the country. I got the feeling that being an outlaw wasn’t a part-time job.