“You’re good to go. Hop on,” he said, pulling on his own helmet and swinging his leg over the bike. Fuck he was hot. Something about a motorcycle helmet… Goddamn. I wanted him to fuck me while wearing that thing. Jesus fucking Christ, where hadthatthought just come from?
I was glad that he couldn’t see the flush that I could feel heating my cheeks. I did what he said and got on behind him.
“Hold on tight. I’m going to be fucking pissed if you fall off!” he yelled over his shoulder before firing up the bike and kicking up the stand. As I settled in behind him, I realized there was another big problem with riding the bike with him to Voodoo.
The whole machine wasvibrating,and my pussy was pressing into the seat and up against his ass. I could feel the hum of the machine almost directly on my already needy clit.
I panicked. What if I fucking came on the bike? Would Reaver notice?Would Death know?
Before I could say anything, Reaver shot off into traffic, and I screamed, wrapping my arms around his waist to keep from falling off. The relentless rumble of the motor between my legs was excruciating. It took all of my focus and energy to make sure I was sitting in such a way that I wasn’t in danger of finishing what my demon had started the night before.
We came to a red light before the on-ramp to the freeway, and Reaver turned his head to glance back at me.
“Stop squirming so much and sit still!” he yelled back, and I huffed in my helmet. I couldn’t sit still. If I did, I was going to come in my fucking pants. Death would definitely kill Reaver if I did that. If I wasn’t allowed to touch myself, I had to assume orgasm by motorcycle was also against the rules.
Once we were on the freeway, Reaver shot like a dart through traffic. He weaved in and out of cars in a way that I was sure was illegal. It definitely wasn’t safe. I screamed nearly the whole way until he got off at our exit. It only took fifteen minutes to get to Voodoo, but it felt like an hour. Reaver parked in the lot beside the restaurant and waited for me to get off the bike before following suit. He pulled off his helmet and grinned at me as I tried to level out my breathing. The adrenaline from the ride, coupled with the intense pulsing and burn between my legs, was overwhelming. I was nearly panting, and my hair was disheveled. My skin felt raw, and honestly, if he bent me over the bike and fucked me right there in broad daylight, I don’t think I would have said no.
“Good work, deathtrap,” he said, smacking my helmet before helping me take it off. He strapped it to the bike and wrapped an arm around my shoulders, guiding me into the restaurant. “Not bad for your first time.”
I couldn’t answer. I was shaking and so needy that even his arm around my shoulders was distracting. He led me through the kitchen, where the prep cooks were getting everything ready for the shift that night. He watched me hang up my coat and bag in the staff room before tugging me away.
“Alright, show me what you got,” he said, smiling at me as we made our way into the dining room. “Let’s do these stupid worksheets so you can show Rafael what a good little trainer you are.”
I scowled at him and retrieved all the work I had prepared for him from behind the bar. Grabbing the vodka bottle full of water, I set up a free pour station at one of the larger booths.
I gestured for him to sit down, and thankfully, he did so with no complaints. I took a seat on the far side of the booth, needing to keep as much distance between us as possible. There was still a small tremor in my bones, and I couldn’t seem to fully catch my breath.
Reaver tutted his tongue at me and shook his head. “Oh no, deathtrap. That won’t do. You’re going to sit over here with me,” he said. An evil smile curled on his face, and my blood froze.
“Reaver, please. Enough. Can we just do this and go home?” I begged, and he just chuckled.
“The quicker you do what you’re told, the quicker we’ll finish. Now come over here,” he ordered, and I groaned but got up and went to sit next to him.
He didn’t hesitate. The moment I was in the booth next to him, he slid his hand up my back and buried his fingers into my hair, massaging the back of my head. I shuddered as tiny bursts of pleasure erupted across my scalp. I felt my nipples peak, and an involuntary moan slipped out of my lips before I could stop it.
He chuckled, and I felt my face flush in embarrassment.
“Did the bike get my little deathtrap all worked up?” he asked softly, his breath tickling my ear. He skimmed his lips over my lobe, and I gasped, half expecting him to pull it into his mouth. He didn’t, but fuck did I ever want him to.
“If I slid my hand down your pants right now, how wet would you be?” he asked, and I jerked away from him.
“Reaver!” I snapped, turning to glare at him. His hazel eyes were full of heat, and he was mere inches away. His gaze dropped to my mouth again, and for a moment, I thought he was going to kiss me.
“Ah! You two did come in. That’s great.”
I yelped and pushed away from Reaver as Rafael approached the booth. Reaver glared at the bar manager but allowed me to put space between us.
“Y-yes,” I stammered, trying to get a hold of myself, “I was going to have him do the cocktail practice test and work on free pouring today,” I explained, smiling up at Rafael. He nodded curtly.
“Good, that sounds good. Bring the finished tests down to the office when you’re done. I also want to do a bar scrape before the review to make sure it really gets a good deep clean. I want it done before the buyout on Friday.” Rafael left, and Reaver scowled, flipping him off behind his back as he went.
I frowned at him. “I thought you guys were friends?” I asked, and Reaver shrugged.
“Friends is a stretch. We’ve just known each other for a long time,” he explained before sliding his hand around my hips and tugging me in closer to him. “But whatever, fuck him. Let’s do this stupid quiz. Stay close, deathtrap. I need moral support.” He smirked and picked up one of the pens I had brought over with the hand that wasn’t tracing delicate circles against my waist.
Turns out Reaverwasa good bartender. He nailed the cocktail quiz on the first try, and when I asked him to practice free pouring, he poured a perfect ounce each time.
Part of me was annoyed that this asshole just seemed to be naturally good at everything. However, the other part of me was relieved. If he passed his damned tests, all it would do is make me look good. Also, once the quarterly review was over and his training was complete, he would no longer be my responsibility, and he wouldn’t be able to hold my job over my head. Overall, it was a good thing he seemed to already know what he was doing.
