‘For the hunts, yes. The shoots are on foot.’
Lord Sexy Bazillionaire CEO Ryans.
The young man carrying our bags is Kian. Gregory makes introductions then instructs Kian to take the rest of the day off.
‘Yes, sir,’ Kian quickly agrees.
‘That goes for John and Marian too,’ Gregory adds.
‘Yes, sir.’
Gregory shakes Kian’s hand. Despite his subtlety, I catch a glimpse of notes sliding from Gregory’s hand into Kian’s.
‘Come on, I want to show you the other reason I have this house.’ There’s a mischievous glint in his eye that’s a rare but beautiful show of his age.
He presses a remote control and the doors to the triple garage rise from the ground. Gregory grins as we wait. Soon, the doors are high enough for me to understand why. The garage opens to expose six motorbikes – big, immaculate and shiny.
He strides to a clothes rail of leathers on the side wall of the garage. He moves one hanger then another and pulls out a third. He holds it up and looks beyond it to me.
‘This should get over your clothes.’
‘What? Me? No way! I’ve never been on a motorbike in my life.’
‘Okay, yeah, sure. You don’t want to do anything dangerous. I guess you’re not that girl.’
He turns his back to me and places the female leathers back on the clothes rail.
‘Give those to me,’ I say, snatching the leathers. I watch from the corner of my eye as Gregory strips down to his tight-fitting Armani boxers and white T-shirt then pulls the leather bottoms up over his sculpted thighs. Shaking salacious thoughts from my head, I quickly pull my leather bottoms over my jeans, then tie my hair into a loose ponytail.
Gregory is an absolutely indulgent sight to behold, seated on a shiny, electric-blue-trimmed Harley Davidson, his helmet under his arm. Heat traverses my body thinking about peeling him out of those intoxicating leathers.
‘Will I do?’ I ask.
He doesn’t respond but his eyes remain fixed on me, feral and hungry.
‘Get here,’ he says with his sexy South African twang.
He places a helmet on my head and tells me to sit on the back of the bike. Throwing my right leg across the seat, I shuffle closer to his back until I can feel him snuggly between my legs, pushing back against my sex. My bud pulses when he moves his right hand behind him and pulls my leg tighter around his waist. I roll my breasts against his back. He exhales slowly as he puts on his helmet and kickstarts the bike. The rumbling vibrations and the sex god between my legs reduce my mind to a fevered muddle of hormones.
I squeal as I feel the initial inertia, then we’re on the dirt track and driving back through the small forest.
On the open road, Gregory picks up speed. I bend with him as he corners with the road; the combination of speed and the sensation of my legs wrapped around him is exhilarating and doing nothing to clear my mind of filthy thoughts. We drive until there’s nothing but green land and sheep, until we’re the only two people in sight. I wrap my arms tighter around him and he starts to slow the bike so I can hear his voice.
‘Do you want to stop?’
‘Yes,’ I say breathlessly.
He pulls us over next to a large, leafless tree and kills the engine. I dismount and walk onto the grass to see the view but Gregory’s hand grabs mine and pulls me back against the trunk of the tree. Excitement shimmers through every part of me. I’ve thought about this for the last thirty minutes; I’m desperate for him to strip me down and fuck me.
He moves my right hand above my head and presses his leathers against mine. When my eyes tell him how much I want him, he kisses me, hard. He opens his leather bottoms then slowly pulls down the zip of mine. I undo the button of my jeans and let him pull both down to my thighs. I can’t believe I’m doing this but my need for him tramples any sensible thoughts I might have.
I push my hands inside his boxers and rub his hard length. I’m not the only one whose mind has been wandering. He bites his lower lip and closes his eyes. His hand slips under my hair, gripping my neck and drawing my head into his. I wrap my tongue around his, licking, tasting, absorbing him.
‘These leathers.’ I swallow his heavy, gruff words.
He wets two fingers in his mouth then moves them to my soaked sex, stroking my centre before sliding through my wetness into my entrance. He swallows my groan and rolls a thumb across my swollen clit, driving me wild.
‘Always ready for me.’
