In true honeymooner style,after a few drinks for me, and a single beer for Rocket, we were heading out while theparty was still swinging. We wanted to get back to ‘our place’ and celebrate privately.
Someone had literally strung a bunch of old cans to the back of Rocket’s motorbike, with a ‘just married’ sign, which gave me a little shiver, because it wasn’t marriage. It really wasn’t. But it was something better. Something more. Something that felt more real, and more secure than anything I’d had before. The other thing giving me a shiver was the motorbike itself. For the first time in our relationship, and unlikely to be the last, I was about to get on it. It had a new seat fitted on the back, because the position where they’d placed the strap-on that time wasn’t actually a seat, as it turns out, but Rocket had added one. For me.
He muttered to himself as he unstrung the strings and tied them to the nearest ‘ride’ with a chuckle.
“Who owns that one?”
He smirked at me, straightening up and brushing his hands over his jeans.
“Grease. It’s the least he deserves.” He said that, but they’d definitely started to warm to each other. They still argued, and picked on each other, but that seemed to just be their way.
“Ready to get something big and throbbing between your legs, baby?” I swallowed hard and stared at the big black and silver beast.
“I mean…”
He tucked his fingers under my chin and turned my face toward him.
“I promise you’ll be safe. There’s no more important person in the world than you, so I’ll be on my best behaviour.”
“What about Nixie?”
He sighed. “She’s happy at Auntie Caroline’s, yet again. I swear she’s starting to think she lives there. We’ll pick her up in the morning in your cage, okay?”
“It’s a car.”
He grimaced, faking a shudder. “This is where it’s at, baby. I’m going to get your helmet on you, and then I’ll help you on.” He passed me the black and silver helmet he’d bought for me, you know, to match his own, and his motorcycle. His ride was a two wheeled ad for his business, after all.
The helmet felt weird, and constricting, and I hated it, but I valued my head and my brain, so I soldiered on. His voice was muffled as he guided me onto the motorbike behind him, and I let out a panicked squeak as he demonstrated how easily it could tilt to one side or the other if I didn’t lean with him. My arms were so tight around him that I was sure he couldn’t breathe, but he just cupped a gloved hand over mine and then reached back and squeezed my thigh.
The engine suddenly roared to life, and I let out another scream. Jesus, that’s… so… rumbly and vibrate-y. A shiver ran down my spine and I sighed, leaning tighter into Rocket as he patted my thigh again, his sign that we were about to start moving, and then that’s exactly what we did. We started moving, and me? I screamed my head off for about thirty seconds, before I realised he was completely in control of the bike, and we were safe.
There’s something so exhilarating about being on the back of a motorcycle. I mean, sure, even when I’d stopped screaming, I missed the comfort and security of a seat and a seatbelt, but I was wrapped around my man, and he mastered his machine like a boss. Twists and turns made my stomach leap, but we moved as a team, and navigated them like we’d always worked together like this.
By the time we were at Harley’s flat and he was helping me off the motorbike, I was buzzing, and a little shaky.
“Wow. Oh wow wow wow!”
Rocket grinned as he unclasped my helmet and lifted it off.
“I haven’t touched you yet, woman.”
“Seriously, that was amazing!”
He smirked, leading us inside. “Hold that thought. It’s about to get amazing-er… that’s not a word, but you will be screaming again, I promise.”
He was laughing at me, but it was fine. Itwaspretty funny. I wondered if his brothers had heard me, and been standing there laughing, but I realised I really didn’t give a shit.
Once we were inside, neither of us wanted to wait a single second to undress, or make it to Harley’s bed, with Rocket slamming me back against the front door the second it closed. He was pulling at my jeans, as I pulled at his, and neither of us could get our shit together long enough to actually get our hands inside them, finally laughing and pressing our foreheads together.
“Can’t fucking believe you’re mine, babe. I’ll never make you regret it,” Rocket whispered, moving just enough to press his lips against my forehead.
I could feel the heart in his words, the truth in what he was saying, and I couldn’t even begin to imagine him doing anything else. I wanted to do the same, to give him the fucking world, and never ever hurt him again.
“You’re mine too, Rocket. Forever. Try straying, and I’ll cut your balls off. Got it?”
He laughed, lifting me as he turned, my legs locking around his waist.
“My balls are yours, baby. Let’s go give them a workout, yeah?”
