She may be chaotic and messy, but there’s a challenge in her every scathing word and gaze. I find myself chasing after her like some love-sick fool, unable to get enough.
She’s noticeably shaking as she tries to quickly put her clothes back on, barely looking at me, and I’m disappointed because I know for a fact she’ll like what she sees.
“F-fuck, it’s c-cold,” she says, teeth chattering, and then immediately sneezes.
“I told you it was a bad idea,” I growl, though I’m not complaining in the slightest. I could die a happy man right now. Especially knowing that my cum fills her tight little cunt now. Satisfaction rolls through me. I want my cum dripping down her legs every day.
“Stop being a downer,” she chastises as she pulls her jeans back on, and I wish she wouldn’t hide that beautiful body of hers. Then again, I suddenly have no intention of allowing any other person to see her like this.
My eyebrows dip slightly. I’ve never cared once in my life as to who a woman was fucking. But the mere thought of someone else claiming her body, of pushing her over the edge, draws out my lethal side.
Interesting.
It only furthers my curiosity for the little vixen.
I pick up my leather jacket and hand it to her.
“Are you sure you’ll be fine in just a wet shirt?”
Shit, no. I’m going to freeze my ass off.
“My mother would haunt me from the grave if I let you freeze on the back of my bike even if this is your fault. In fact, she might even tell me to stay away from you since you’re such a bad influence,” I say as I zip up my pants. I deliberately angle my stomach and chest in such a way as to exaggerate the ridges of my abs. And I’m confused when I raise my head to find she’s looking at my face, not at them.
“Your mother's dead?” Her voice is quiet and a little sad.
Well, that’s a downer.
“As well as my father. Don’t get sentimental about it, sweetheart. I’m not,” I say coldly, finding my shirt and turning my back to her.
“Why do you have so many scars all over your back?” she asks. Ah, so she’s just now noticed the jagged, pinkish-white lines. I mean, she’s only noticing now after the third time we’ve fucked, but I roll in glee that for the first time since I’ve known her, she’s curious about me.
“Most of these were courtesy of said dead father. He was a dick,” I state simply. “The others… Let’s just say they were due to occupational hazards.”
Her hair is still dripping wet, and my leather jacket is huge on her. I walk over and adjust the front before zipping it up. She’s frowning, and I grow greedy, hoping she’ll ask me another question.
Instead, she simply purses her lips, as if realizing she’s already delved too deeply, and I can see the moment she slips back behind her hardened wall of indifference.
It only serves to excite me. Now that I know this side of her exists, this curious little creature, I’ll do everything I can to draw her back out.
“You look good in my jacket.”
“I look good in everything,” she deadpans as she reaches for her socks—another colorful llama design—and then boots. “So, are you going to let me drive this time?”
“Not a fucking chance, sweetheart.”
“I’ll have you know my father owned a farm, and I was riding a dirt bike at six,” she says, closing the visor on the helmet and looking over at me impatiently. The moment it snaps down, it’s the abrupt ending to that conversation. She’ll only let me see a small crack in her armor, but I’ll accept it. For now. I want to ask more about her family, but I know I have all the time in the world to slither through the cracks in her walls.
I grin as I put my glasses on and hop on the bike first. She’s quick to wrap her arms around my waist, and I’m still smiling as we drive back toward the city, knowing my cum is still inside of her, and that this woman has finally become curious about me.
By the timewe reach the apartment, the sun is rising, and the chill of the ride soaks into my bones. It’s fucking freezing, but I’d do it all over again simply because of how tightly Romi clung tome, either from tiredness or because she was using me yet again, this time for the warmth of my body.
I spot the hound sitting on his motorcycle outside of our apartment building the moment we pull up. I know it’s Sky by the model of his bike, and I’m not appreciative in the slightest that he’s here. Or that he’ll get a good look at Romi.
She gets off the bike and goes to take the helmet off, but I place my hand on it.
“Take it off when you’re inside,” I demand, because I don’t want Sky seeing her beauty.
She swats my hand away. “Don’t tell me what to do, unless you want to be kicked out onto the streets.”
