Fuck, I had to put that visual out there. Now, my pissed-off cock is hard again. Not getting what it wanted last night, I’m surprised it’s even bothering, but the damn thing has no shame.
While she takes a shower, I get dressed, and after what seems like an eternity, the water shuts off. Now, I picture her drying herself off and pulling her clothes over that tight, firm body.
Oh shit, I’m fucked.
When she enters the living room, I’m stubbing out my second cigarette in fifteen minutes.
She nods to the ashtray. “You know, those things are going to kill you.”
“With all the shit I’ve done,” I point to the burned-out butts, “those are the least of my problems.” I push off the sofa because I can’t stay in this small apartment any longer without touching her.
“I gotta head to the gym. Come with me and I’ll introduce you to Maxie. She’s Blood’s woman.” I swipe my cigs off the coffee table and stuff them into my cut. “And like I said before, she knows her shit when it comes to the women fighters she trains.”
“Sounds good.”
Great. Let her be Maxie’s problem. Then I can go about my day and give my raging cock a break.
We get out to the back lot, and Martina stops short at the sight of my Harley.
“Wow, I didn’t realize it was so big.”
“Yeah, I get that a lot.” She rolls her eyes, and I laugh. “I couldn’t resist.”
“Really though, this thing is huge.”
I snicker again. “Yup, that’s what they say.” I hold up my palms. “I’m done.”
She runs her hand over the leather seat.
“Ever ride before?”
She shakes her head, but her eyes are wide in anticipation, and I automatically know she’s gonna love it.
I throw my leg over the saddle, then offer her my hand. Her delicate fingers get lost in my grip as she settles in behind me. She adjusts a few times and rests her palms lightly on my hips.
“Just move with me.” I reach around and pull her arms around my waist. “And hold on tight.”
She laces her fingers together, and my abs tighten, then she shifts closer. The heat of her body warms my back, and, yeah, my cock notices.
The ten-minute ride outside the city is filled with her enthusiasm. When I open up the throttle on the empty road leading to the fight club, she throws her head back and howls. “This is fucking amazing!” she yells into the blue Tijuana sky.
“I had a feeling you’d like it,” I shout over the engine.
“I like anything with speed.” She leans into my ear. “The faster, the better.”
My kind of woman, but I’m thinking she’d like some things slow . . . slow and dirty.
We pull into the lot housing the garage and the fight club, and she slumps behind me. “I can’t believe we’re here already. I could’ve ridden forever.”
Yeah, I felt the exact same way about riding.
I nod for her to get off, and I follow.
She eyes the Harley with admiration. “Can’t believe I’ve never been on one, but that was the best.”
I want to say all kinds of shit like, “We can ride anytime you want.” “I loved having you on the back of my bike.” “Can’t wait to fuckin’ do it again.”
Of course, I stay silent cause she made it clear last night she wasn’t interested, and I might not have had the greatest track record with women, but I never had to fuckin’ beg.
