Katie
Maybe this was a repeat of old bad habits, but if it was, at least it was going to feel really good.
As Connor took my hand, lifted me off the park bench, and dragged me back to the parking lot, I knew what we were going to do, and it wasn’t to have lunch and share stories about church. We were going back to his place, we were going to get naked, and it was going to be hot. And for most guys, I would have said we needed to wait until at least the third date, if not a little longer.
But Connor had done something I had not anticipated. He revealedmuchmore of himself than I ever would have guessed. You could have almost said that it didn’t seem like there were any secrets he hadn’t revealed, which of course was absurd; I felt like I’d only gotten the story he’d admit to himself, not the story he tried to hide from.
And yet, all the same, it was much more than I would have ever guessed he’d given me. It made me want him. It made me more assertive in trying to win him over than I’d meant to. Perhaps I’d wanted him to take me like this, no matter what rules I set for myself.
Given past behavior, again, maybe this wasn’t the smartest move. As much as I’d once joked to Tara about not putting out for Brock too soon, a lot of that advice came from negative personal experience. Maybe fucking Connor would just be getting the same result despite expecting something different.
But just as Connor “looked” worse than my previous dates and yet was deeper and better than he was so far, I knew that this may have “looked” the same and yet was much deeper than that.
When we got to the parking lot, I started to head to my car, but Connor pulled me away.
“What?”
“You’re getting on my bike,” he said. “I know what a bike is going to do to you, and I’m not going to let you not feel that.”
Oh, shit, it’s happening.I knew what I’d thought before on our first date. I knew that the second I got on that bike, whatever defenses I had from this going forward would go right out the window.
That was assuming, though, that I had any defenses. And at this point, I most certainly did not.
Connor reached into the seat of his bike, handed me a helmet, and ordered me to hop on. I swung my legs over the bike, wrapped my body around him, and curled my arms around his rock-hard abs. For someone who had described himself as a former fat kid, he sure seemed to have gotten it together rather well—almost perfectly well, in fact. I didn’t feel any ounce of loose skin, soft skin, or anything other than rock-solid, firm, rippling abs.
Fuck. We hadn’t even started the bike yet and already, my body was going crazy thinking about what I could do with those abs.
And then the bike roared to life, the engine between my legs started to vibrate like crazy, and I knew I was done for. The question wasn’t if I was going to fuck him when we got back to his place. The question was who was going to be more aggressive.
What Connor did not know—and what I did not tell most people, frankly—was I had a particular position I really loved. I had to start out all sex that way, and if I didn’t get that position, I would practically force the guy to make it happen.
But for right now, I just let him have the bike ride.
I’d ridden on the back of a bike before, although it actually wasn’t in a spot like this. I’d once had my car break down at the store and needed a ride from an employee of mine, who rode bikes. He had no affiliation to either club, and the ride was not sexual at all, but I did remember how good the tingling felt.
But even though I had that memory in the back of my mind, in conjunction with the arousal I felt for Connor right now, it was almost unfair how good I felt. I could feel the tension increase with every revving of the engine, the warmth spread through my legs, my arms tightened…who needed foreplay when I had something like this?
Except, of course, there was one aspect of foreplay that was my favorite position.
I couldn’t say how long the ride to Connor’s home was, other than to say it was not quite long enough for me to get off from the bike alone. But the tension had built up so much and gotten me so fired up that by the time Connor parked the bike at his place, I could not take my hands off him. That was literal, too—even when I was waiting for him to hop off the bike, I felt the need to touch him, squeeze him, hold him the entire time.
I was not so much attracted to him as I was attached to him.
He grabbed my hand and led me into the house, taking me upstairs to his bedroom before I had the chance to see anything more. Probably for the best—the TV was on in the living room, but I didn’t see if there was anyone there. I didn’t want to really know, anyway. The more I could think of this as just me and Connor, the better.
He led me to a relatively barren room that had a bed, a dresser, and…that was pretty much it. He shut the door behind me. I turned to see him taking off his Black Reapers cut.
“And now,” he said. “I’m taking you for mine.”
Now we’re fucking talking.
He came up to me, pressed me onto the bed, and started kissing me. I took him back, wrapping my legs around his hips and pulling him into me. He got my shirt off, and I his. I tried not to make a big deal out of his body, but seriously, I would have never known the dude was once fat if he hadn’t told me. He looked the part of tatted-up model, with tattoos just about in every spot of his visible body.
And his abs, my Lord, his abs. They were almost too perfect. I could see every cut, every line, every tapering off. It felt fucking fantastic, too.
Of course, the part that felt the best was his bulge down below, a tease of what was to come in a few minutes. But for now, I just relished feeling his rock-hard abs against my belly.
I was getting eager, though, to get to my favorite spot. I tried to flip him over on his back, but he didn’t let me.
