This didn’t go well for her, I’m guessing. I catch my helmet and try to give her some space to unleash. Janelle’s hands ball up into fists and she yells at me with pure, unmitigated anger.
“I was screaming at you to slow down!”
“If we went any slower, the cops could have caught us.”
“Screw you, Zeb,” she says, lowering her voice to a gritty, angry tone. “I could have died on the back of that death trap and you could have gone a lot slower or listened when I called your name.”
I never heard her, which is obvious, but feels like a bad time to bring it up considering how mad Janelle looks. Her hair flies around her face madly because my helmet messed up her little braids. She’s pissed. But she also looks sexy as fuck.
“I didn’t mean to scare you.” My voice comes out in a muttering, stammering mess. I don’t understand how easy it is for Janelle to reduce me to this when I’ve killed men twice her size before.
“Well you did!” she yells at me. “Do you have anything to say for yourself?”
“I can’t go any slower.”
Her face twists into more disgust. “Men are all the same.”
What? This pisses me off, but I can’t say anything about it, because Janelle turns on her heel and dismisses me like I’m an annoying hanger-on and not her goddamn ride out of here. “I’m going to the bathroom…”
Janelle storms off towards the gas station entrance.
“Do you need any money for a treat?” I ask her as she walks away. My throat tightens as Janelle waves me off dismissively again. Her attitude should offend me, but I’m totally stuck in place watching Janelle’s sizable buttcheeks swish away from me.She’s got an incredible ass, I can’t ignore that.
I would follow her except… Janelle standing there yelling at me got my dick ridiculously hard. There is definitely something wrong with me. The blood drains from my head immediately rushing to my cock when Janelle curses me out and even if she says that she doesn’t want a treat, I wait for her to disappear into the gas station and head inside to fill up the bike’s gas tank and get her the sweet treat she claims she doesn’t need.
By the time Janelle comes out of the bathroom, she looks thoroughly disturbed, but I have a treat for her and a full-tank of gas. The only thing that would make me happy right now is emptying my dick somewhere.
“Would it kill some people to flush their turds?” Janelle mutters with a disgusting look on her face.
“Bad time to offer you a protein bar?” I take it out of my pocket, expecting Janelle to turn it down, but she softens enough to snatch it from me.
“Thanks,” she says.
“I thought you might be hungry.”
She looks up at me in disbelief. “I’m surprised you considered me at all.”
I don’t know what to say to her, so I grunt out an answer. Janelle takes a bite of her protein bar and after chewing it thoroughly, she kisses me on the cheek. Maybe she wasn’t angry so much as she had low blood sugar. I’ll keep that in mind the next time she crashes out.
“I don’t know if I can get on the back of that thing again.”
“I’ll go slower this time,” I lie through my teeth because frankly, I just need her to get on the back of that motorcycle so we can make it all the way out West. When we get to Chicago tonight, we’re going to switch over to the old Route 66 highway where members of our motorcycle club control most of the highway.
We’ll be a lot safer there and maybe I’ll convince somebody to send out a truck or a car so that Janelle doesn’t lose her shit every time we have to ride.
“I don’t believe you,” she says.
“Come on, Janelle. We’ll make better time the faster we get moving.”
Chapter Ten
Janelle
Iwrap my arms around Zebulon’s back. I can only feel how firm and muscular his body is when I sit on the back of the bike and I hate that I notice but… I would notice everything about his body considering how closely I have to hold him. I’ve never touched a man with such a solid chest, and his back at least gives me a solid place to rest my head.
My breath catches when he starts the bike as I prepare for new hell. By my estimates, we still have six and a half hours until we get to Chicago. I don’t know if I can survive that long. My fingers sink into Zebulon’s rib cage. He leans back and shifts his hips back so that my legs are spread wide around his ass cheeks.
The bike trembles and I surrender to Zebulon’s control. The further we get from Boston, the more terrified I feel having only this strange man to rely on for my safety for some unknown amount of time. Leaving with him was definitely crazy, but as the shock dissipates and my choices sink in, I wonder if there was anything else I could have done aside from disappear on the back of his motorcycle. Especially when he takes the highway onramp and the wind whips past me so quickly it feels like we’re at the center of a tornado.
