Amelia swings a leg over, holding me for balance, and settles herself in behind me. As soon as I feel her small arms wrapped around my middle, we take off. Roaring down the dirt tracks and side streets until we hit the open, deserted mountain roads, I take us deep into the Smoky Mountains. Somewhere she can forget about what’s waiting for her back in the Heights and focus on the rise and fall of the peaks, the horizon framing them, and the endless buds and blooms we see along the way. Wind in her hair, man by her side. The important shit in life.
Occasionally, she’ll tap my leg, trying to get my attention, pointing at something off to in the distance that I try to take in without making us crash. More often than not, the feel of her hand so close to my dick just makes me want to pull over and bend her over this bike.
Eventually, I even feel her relax a bit, loosening her grip and letting her head fall back, soaking in the thrill of the ride. When I hear her truly laugh for the first time in nearly a week, my chest overflows with strong emotion.
After a while, my hands are going numb from the vibration of the handlebars (it’s been too long since I’ve gone riding), and I take the excuse to turn off on a side road, finding somewhere we can pull over that’s secluded and hidden. Bonus points, it’s even overlooking the mountains. Not that I need that view when I’ve got the girl beside me to look at, but still.
She gets off the bike first, stretching her legs, and I follow her lead, birdsong the only sound welcoming us to this pitstop.
“What’s out here?” she asks, breathless with exhilaration from the adrenaline.
“Nothing,” I tell her. “And no one.”
Her face lights up, and I grin.
“Just you, me, and a few much-needed orgasms.”
“Just a few?” she asks, pouting.
“As many as you want, angel.”
Sex with her is so different than it’s ever been for me before. Yeah, there was instant attraction, but the deeper bond we have was built on weeks of friendship, getting to know one another in ways I haven’t with other women, one that’s only strengthened as things got physical. It laid a foundation strong enough to withstand the firestorm she’s about to go through.
The physical connection? That’s just the cherry on top to everything else that runs between us. But damn if it isn’t everything I wished it would be, having my curse broken. She was worth the wait and more.
I pick her up and she wraps her legs around my waist, letting her arms fall over my shoulders, and brings her face close to mine. “You know, I like it when you call me that. I never thought I’d want to hear that name again. But you gave it new meaning for me.”
Spinning her around, I drop my ass back onto the seat of the bike and get one leg over it. She drops her upper body back, splaying over the handlebars, and I groan at the sight of her, so perfect for me.
“You’re my dark little angel who fucks like a goddess. It’s the perfect nickname for you,” I tell her, running my hands up her bare stomach and beneath her cropped shirt.
Finding her bare there, I growl. “No bra?” I ask, surprised I didn’t notice when I picked her up, or when she was pressed against me this whole ride. She must’ve had me distracted by the rest of her for me to miss that detail.
“Didn’t want anything in your way,” she says, still leaning over the handlebars, back arched and tits pointed straight to the heavens, the lucky bastards.
Leaning forward, I bring my mouth to her exposed skin and trail kisses upward, my nose dragging the fabric up with me as I go. When my mouth hits her full breast, I suck on the skin, playing with the soft underside. She moans, grinding her hips on me as I take my time, enjoying having her all to myself out here, some of the weight of the last week easing in all this open space.
Her hips move slowly, teasing me, rubbing herself in circles over my cock, then switching directions. It drives me mad, but I must be nuts because I love her form of torture.
I could happily drag this out all damn day. Tasting her one square inch at a time, building up the anticipation until both of our blood is boiling, the need enough to make us both snap.
Being patient and understanding is part of this boyfriend thing, and I can do that. But fuck have I missed her like this.
By the time I get her nipple in my mouth, I’m hard enough, needy for her in a way that I might actually blow in my pants if this keeps up.
“Weston,” she calls my name, bucking her hips, as my teeth strum her nipple, then the other. Gotta be fair to both here.
“Yeah, darlin’,” I whisper around her sensitive flesh.
“I need you,” she says, breathy and as desperate as I feel.
“Need you too, angel.”
“What are you waiting for?” she asks.
“For you to straddle me and take what you want.”
She hops down, shucking her shoes, jeans, underwear and shirt in record time, while I hustle to unbuckle myself, unbuttoning, unzipping, un-everything, so I’m ready for her.
