I don’t know what to do with myself, he’s right. I’ve never had male friends. I wasn’t allowed to hang out with boys growing up. The only men I’ve ever been close to are brothers. What a crazy life I’ve had.
I couldn’t even handle a couple weeks of freedom. I ran straight into the arms of another biker. “You’re right.” I struggle to free myself from the alcohol fog in my brain. “Wewerelovers, but decided to break things off before we came here.”
“No.” His voice is hoarse. “Youdecided.” I gasp when he scoops me up and gently places me on the bike. “Be a good girl, Starlet. Hold on tight—it’s a short ride to the cabin.”
Of course, I don’t heed his warning. As soon as we hit the highway and he opens up that throttle, the wind whipping my hair, I let go of him and lift my arms above my head, squealing like a little girl. I took my first ride when I was three-years-old, wedged between my father and the gas tank on his classic Softail. I showed no fear. A natural my father called me. Is that why it feels so right? Am I truly a natural or is it because I’m on Brick’s bike?
He looks over his shoulder at me. “Stop playing around, Starlet. Hold on.”
I shake my head. “Make me.”
He signals to turn and races down a paved driveway lined with trees and bushes. A small cabin with a metal roof comes into sight and I giggle. Not sure why it’s funny, but it is. This place, my life, everything is like a fucking cartoon. Except for Brick, he’s more real than anyone I’ve ever known.
He parks on a gravel pad beside the cabin and then climbs off his bike, ogling me. “What’d you say back there?” He’s trying to be a badass.
“Did I stutter, biker boy?” Somehow, I manage to swing my leg over the seat, grab my bag, and stand up, though I stumble a little. “Make me.”
He sighs, obviously frustrated. “Do you know how hard you’re making it…”
Without thinking, I reach between his legs and cradle his enormous erection. “It’s hard, all right.”
“Starlet…” I’m immediately flung over his shoulder and carried up three steps. He digs in his front pants pocket, produces a key, and unlocks the door. “Done playing games?”
“What’s wrong, Brick?”
He spanks my ass hard and then sets me on my feet. “Taking advantage of a drunk woman isn’t my thing.”
“Okay, Saint Brick.” He didn’t have a problem getting me buzzed and fucking me the night we met. Why would it be any different now? Besides, I’m not really drunk, just feeling good. Hot and bothered to be exact.
In need of a diversion, I take a quick peak around the one-room cabin. It’s rustic and completely male. There’s a sofa, weathered recliner, coffee table, and wood burning stove on one side, and a kitchenette on the other. A framed picture of an older man and red-headed woman is hanging on the wall. I immediately recognize the guy from the clubhouse, sat a few chairs away from him at dinner.
“What’s his name?” I indicate the portrait.
“Shorty.”
“Why are we here?” I ask.
“Privacy.”
I think Brick forgot his good mood at the clubhouse, but I won’t let it ruin the moment. His frown and one-word answers don’t deter me. I sneak up behind him and lock my hands over his stomach, appreciating the feel of his eight-pack underneath. “Privacy is a good thing, right?”
He turns in my arms. “Starlet.”
I shush him, holding my finger up to his lips. “Don’t tell me anything right now. I want you to fuck me.”
He steps back and stares at me, like he’s thinking about it. Really? “Do you need an engraved invitation?”
In response, he growls and drops to his knees in front of me, lifts my skirt above my hips, and shoves my lace panties aside. I love it rough with him, though I’m not sure why. Maybe the intensity in his eyes, or maybe it’s my way of getting all of him. Brick doesn’t do tender. I curl my fingers in his hair and encourage him to bury his face between my legs. The moment his tongue makes contact with my clit, I lose it and scream his name. The consequences of total submission to Brick means one thing—more.
He cups my ass with one hand, locking me against his face. I throw my head back as he sinks his thumb inside my pussy, sucking and licking me so hard. My legs are like jelly, but I don’t care. I need to feel alive, want to forget who I am. Pretty sure I know what went down in that conference room. If this is my last night with Brick, I’m going to make it count. His memory will have to get me through a lifetime of misery.
