"You knowexactlywhat you're doing," he warns, his eyes promising retribution—a dark promise. "Keep it up, and I'll show you just howfriendlyI can be."
I shiver at the heat in his words, my thighs clenching together under the table. God, he's so fucking hot when he's jealous, all possessive and dominant, and ready to stake his claim—It's like poking a bear with a stick, only instead of getting mauled, I get fucked within an inch of my life.
Jake returns with our desserts and the check, his face still flushed and his pants still straining against his obvious arousal. He sets everything down on the table with shaking hands, his eyes darting nervously between me and Rhyland.
"Thanks, Jake," I say sweetly, my finger tracing the rim of my water glass. "You've beensohelpful tonight."
He swallows hard, his voice cracking as he replies, "It was my pleasure, m-ma'am. Have a wonderful evening." He looks at Rhyland, "Sir."
As he hurries away, I can't help but giggle, feeling a little drunk on the power of my seduction. But when I look at Rhyland, the heat in his eyes sobers me up quickly.
"You're in trouble now, Angel. I hope you're ready for what comes next."
Ruh-Roh.
Lucian
83
"Here, let me help youwith that, sweetheart." I grab Seraphina's helmet and carefully place it on her head, making sure not to fuck up the gorgeous hair she spent hours perfecting or snag those sexy-as-hell dangly earrings.
"Oh my gosh, this is so exciting!" she gushes, her voice slightly muffled by the helmet. "What's this magnificent beast called?" she asks, gesturing to my pride and joy, my Ducati Panigale v4 bike.
"This, my darling angel cake, is a motherfucking speed demon on two wheels. And when I say fast, I mean 'hold onto your tits and pray to whatever god you believe in' fast." I wink.
"Ooh, I like the sound of that!" Seraphina giggles, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "I'll hold on tight, I promise."
I made damn sure my girl wore something that wouldn't chafe her delicate skin during the ride. And holy fucking shit, did she deliver. She's rocking this delicious as fuck black little tube top number, showing off her flat sexy stomach that makes her cleavage look like a goddamn snack. I just want to motorboat those perfect tits until I pass out from lack of oxygen.
She's got on these sinfully tight black yoga pants that hug her ass perfectly. You know the ones I'm talking about—the viral butt crack leggings that show off every mouthwatering curve and leave absolutely nothing to the imagination.
When she bent over to put on her boots, I nearly blew my load again. It was like staring into the face of God—if God had the most perfect, biteable ass in all of creation.
Especially after that mind-blowing blowjob—sweet merciful Christ! The way she took the initiative to make me see stars and holy hell, did she ever. I'm still reelingfrom it.
I pull the leather jacket on her and zip it up tight.
I slip on my helmet, snapping the visor down before I start the bike. Seraphina squeals as the engine roars to life, and I motion for her to hop on behind me.
"Saddle up, backpack." my voice barely audible over the purring engine.
I reach over and smack her visor down, because safety first, right? Then she swings her leg over the bike, scooting close behind me and wrapping her arms around my waist. I let out a low moan at the feeling of her pressed against me, her body heat seeping into my skin even through our clothes.
Holy shit, the way her thighs are squeezing my hips and her tits are pressed against my back... It's enough to make a man want to say, 'fuck the road trip,' and just spend the next week worshipping every inch of her body.
But I'm a man with a plan, and I'll be damned if I let a little thing like mind-blowing arousal derail my carefully crafted seduction scheme. So I take a deep breath, try to think about baseball stats and dead kittens to calm my raging hard-on, and rev the engine.
"Hold on tight, baby girl," I call over the bike's roar.
And with that, we peel out of the driveway like a bat out of hell, Seraphina's delighted laughter ringing in my ears as we speed off into the night.
The night air whips past us like a fucking symphony of speed and adrenaline. The real thrill? Those thighs of hers wrapped around me tight. She's squeezing me like she's trying to juice a lemon, and I'm the luckiest damn lemon in the world.
I've never let any other woman ride backpack on my baby before. So the fact that I'm popping Seraphina's motorcycle cherry has me grinning like a goddamn fool. I feel like the luckiest bastard on the planet, and I'm not ashamed to admit it.
I reach back with my gloved hand and give her thigh a possessive squeeze. She grinds even closer to me in response. My eyes practically roll back into my skull from the sheer pleasure of feeling her pressed so tightly against me—her heat searing into me even through the layers of leather and denim.
I squeeze her leg harder, my fingers digging into the supple flesh as I gun the throttle, urging the bike to go faster, harder, like I'm trying to outrun the concept of speed itself.
