I don't even need to open my eyes to see her. All of my senses are consumed with her as she pants and writhes, reveling in my rough grip, keeping her right where I want her.
But we can't stay here.
Fucking her less than a block from her murder scene will only bring her closer to getting caught.
And I have no intention of taking her while she wears another man's bodily fluids. I am a jealous man, and even if the offending person is dead, I won't be sharing space on her body with him. I need her clean and safe before I make her come over and over again.
"We have to go, pet," I kiss her again, needing another taste before I take the chance that she'll deny me and leave me here, aching for her. "You need to get cleaned up."
"Go?" she pants, her eyes fluttering open, beautiful and dazed with desire, her mind reeling to catch up with what I've said.
"We can go to my apartment," I suggest, easing an errant hair behind her ear. "I'm parked not too far from here."
She goes stiff, nerves filling her body. I can't say I blame her. I just offered to help her get away with murder and alluded to being a killer, too. She shouldn't want to go anywhere with me.
"Here," I take one of my hands off her, reaching into my pocket for my current I.D. "Take a picture and send it to whoever you need to so you feel safe."
A small smile lifts one side of her lips, "Really?"
I nod, watching her relax infinitesimally. "Yeah. I might be a psychopath and all, but I'm no threat to you, pet. Promise."
She laughs outright, her hand covering her mouth to keep the sound from drawing any unwanted attention.
When she reaches for my license, snapping a quick picture and shooting it off to whoever, she seems to feel slightly better.
"This could be a fake," she mentions with one eyebrow raised.
"It could be," I tell her, taking her hand to walk towards my ride. "But it's not. That's even my current address."
She lets her fingers entwine with mine, making my stomach feel funny and my dick protest against moving before I've taken pleasure in her warmth.
"How responsible of you," she chuckles, still holding onto my I.D. with her other hand. "I don't think I've ever updated my address on my license. It might still be my parents place."
She stops short as we round the corner, coming upon my bike.
"Oh, mygod," she pushes her shoulder against mine. "Youwouldhave a motorcycle."
With a chuckle, I open the seat, grab my jacket, and ease into it, "What does that mean?"
"Hot. Crazy. Mysterious." She lifts her fingers, counting as she lists, smiling nervously, "And now driving a motorcycle. I'm not sure if you're the ultimate cliche or a dream come true."
I hum in thought, handing her my helmet, "Both, probably."
She laughs, and I make it my mission to draw that sound out of her again, every time I can between all the other sounds I need to hear her make.
Once she fastens the helmet, I tug on the strap, ensuring it's tight enough to keep her safe.
I climb on first, patting the seat behind me.
I can't see her face through the black screen of her helmet, but I can almost feel her beaming as she stares at me for a second before climbing on.
Her warm body presses tightly against my back, the heat driving me insane, deliriously pleading with the universe to be kind and let this drive home go by quickly so I can strip her bare and feel every inch of her hot flesh.
Her legs cradle mine as her arms wrap like a vice around my middle, enveloping me entirely. I turn the bike on, kick it into gear, and take off into the night, the speed making my little killer yelp in surprise, another sound I'm going to catalog and dream about for centuries to come.
Ican't believe I'm doing this.
This is easily one of the dumbest things I've ever done.
