“Uh-huh?”
Curiosity filled her eyes. I had a damn good feeling about this. It was time to go for it.
“Why don’t we go someplace much louder than this,” I said, “so we can get someplace much more private than this?”
“Yeah?” she said, her eyes narrowing. Fuck, it was going to happen. It was going to fucking happen—over a year of wondering what it would be like was finally going to come through.
“Let’s get back to my place,” I said. “And to get there, let’s get on my bike. Not as Reapers. But as a guy who wants to show a good time.”
Justine arched a single eyebrow. It was too deliberate to be an impulsive reaction, or the kind of reaction that expressed dismay or concern. Her left hand, resting on my back, tensed. Her right hand, by her side, seemed to want to grab at me but did not.
“And what would this bike ride be like?” she asked.
“Oh, you’ve never been on a bike ride before, have you?”
She shook her head.
“Some things in life are best experienced rather than explained,” I said. “So what do you say? Bike ride back to my place?”
“Hmm.”
She let the words linger. I refused to assume anything, but boy was I hard. Boy was I ready to just take her into one of the campus buildings for myself. Boy was I fucking ready to tear her clothes off, fuck her raw, and not let up until I’d pumped all of my seed into her.
“Let’s do it.”
Oh, fuck yeah. Not just, “Sure.” Not just, “Why not?” But an enthusiastic “let’s do it.”
And just like that, I’m hard and ready to go.
“Oh, hell yeah,” I said, smirking. “You have no idea what you are in for, Justine, but I assure you, you’re in for the ride of your life.”
In more ways than one.
“Tell me,” I said, feeling like pushing my luck some, “where do you think this is going?”
She began to blush. I could see where this was going. I didn’t want to waste another second preventing something that I needed to have happen. I had waited too long for this, and she was doing me no fucking favors by teasing me with pauses.
To be frank, it didn’t fucking matter where she thought this was going. What mattered was she was going along with it.
“Save your answer,” I said. “Come with me.”
She knew what was about to happen. I could see it. And she liked it.
We practically jogged back to my bike. I had the thought that Justine would need to come back to her car at some point, but until she said something, I wasn’t going to worry a damn bit about it. She was a big girl; if she needed something taken care of, she could do so.
I got on the bike first, lifting the seat up and handing her a helmet. I straddled the bike and scooted forward, giving her space to hop on.
“Wrap your arms tightly around me, keep your knees in tight, and gently—gently—lean in whatever direction I go,” I said. “If you’ve never done this, you’re going to feel terrified.”
And fucking aroused.
“But just hold on tight, and you will be safe. I promise you that.”
“I believe you.”
Good, because if you didn’t, I’d have so many fucking questions.
I revved the engine to life. Justine let out a yip. That was another one of my favorite parts—the bike worked better than any sex toy, any vibrator that I could have given a girl. For one, it wasmybike, not a random toy that I’d bought at the store. For another, it was the ultimate kind of foreplay—the kind where you would silently admit you came but still needed to act on the feelings that came from that orgasm.
