Instead, she lifts her arms, letting me ease it away, letting it slide down behind her onto the seat, and the trust in that small gesture hits harder than anything else tonight. Layer by layer, we undress each other, movements unhurried but charged as hands linger longer than necessary, learning heat, shape, and proximity without crossing the line just yet.
She settles back against me once more, her bare skin against mine, and I feel it everywhere—the weight of her, the tension coiled tight between us, and the knowledge this has shifted into something that won’t fit neatly back into words later.
I tilt my head, my mouth finding the line of her jaw, my voice low and rough when I speak. “If we keep going…”
Her answer is immediate. She rocks forward slightly, closing the last bit of space between us, her lips brushing mine again as she whispers, “Then don’t stop.”
The motorcycle creaks softly beneath us as I pull her closer, hands tightening, the world narrowing to heat, breath, and the edge we’re standing on together. It’s not lost on me that we are out in the open, exposed to the air and nature at large—not to mention, any passersby that happen our way. But the thought of being caught, tangled in the mightiness that is Hazel, only makes my cock strain against my jeans. I’m not some ugly loser, but I know that any man, including myself, is lucky to be caught in the rapture of this woman.
“Remember you’re the one who said that,” I purr against her lips before I press my tongue deep into her mouth. The only scraps of clothing that remain on us are my jeans and boots, and her bra and panties. I can’t stop myself from hurriedly unlatching the satiny, black bra that is in my goddamn way, though a bolt of jealousy shoots through me at the thought of anyone happening by and seeing her like this. All smooth, bronze skin and curves that would make a lesser man weep. But our little games have gotten me past the point of caring, and honestly, feeling so exposed and vulnerable dumps gasoline onto the fire of my desire. I step off the bike, so that I can fully devour this woman.
My hands palm her breasts, groaning with satisfaction as I pinch her nipples and grind my bulge against her damp panties. Hazel’s delicate fingers scrape down the back of my neck as she pulls back from the kiss just enough to speak. “Are you going to keep me waiting, Cowboy?” she teases, breathless.
“Perhaps.” I smirk, finding her neck again. I kiss down her throat and between her breasts, heading directly to my destination without any detours. I lap my tongue against the lacy fabric of her panties, breathing in her feminine scent andwatching her as she shivers at the sensation. Her muscles twitch, her eyelids flutter with anticipation, and her fingers comb into the tousled locks of my raven hair.
It undoes me completely.
Ineedher.
With my teeth, I pull down her panties and plunge my tongue inside her while my hands discard the scrap of clothing—though the beast I am, I tuck them into the front pocket of my jeans.
“Shit,”she curses under her breath at the boldness of my move.
I show no mercy. To say I devour her would be like calling Thanksgiving dinner a snack. My tongue is flat against her lower lips, gliding up and down the seams that make up the temple between her legs. I suck her clit, placing playful, gentle nips on the hood and folds that areher.When my tongue penetrates her again, my thumb rubs intricate circles over her clit. She’s gripping me with all her might, her back curved against the leather seat of my bike as her thighs press onto the sides of my face.
My attack is skillful and intense, and with the way she’s writhing, I know it won’t take long for her to break. And yet, in the midst of her moaning and bucking her hips into my face, deepening the press of my tongue, she mutters, “This all you got, Cowboy?”
Cowboy.Something about the nickname makes precum leak from my tip, her taunting words driving me wild. I must be half insane—no, fully insane—because in the next moment, ...because in the next moment, I'm hovering over her with one hand unfastening my pants and I'm next to the bike and hovering over her with one hand unfastening my pants. I’m going to fuck her, right there on the overlook, with the city witnessing our sins.
She looks between us, licking her lips with anticipation as I free my cock. Then I’m smirking at Hazel gawks at the sight of it. The size is impressive, I know, but that’s not what’s garnered this reaction.
“I think you’ve taken the phrasefamily jewelsa little too literally,” she scoffs.
I grin. She’s too funny for her own good, even in a moment like this. My cock is adorned with a sign of my brazen, reckless youth which I’m not sure I’ll ever get rid of, considering the healing it took and the pleasure it provides everyone involved—my Prince Albert piercing, complete with a bar with two silver balls.
“Please tell me you’re on some version of birth control,” I huskily whisper as I stroke my cock against her sex without penetrating her. While things have been crazy between us, I hadn’t exactly prepared for this moment by buying condoms. I might just beg her to let me fuck her anyway and treat her to ice cream with a Plan B on top if she isn’t on the pill.
Surprisingly, she doesn’t give some sarcastic reply or bust my literal balls for not having a condom. All she does is watch me with hooded eyes and nods once in confirmation.
I’m straddling the bike now, Hazel’s bare body splayed out over the seat and her hands gripping the handlebars as I align our bodies just right so I can thrust into her. My hands grip her hips for dear life, and she’s moaning and white knuckling the handlebars. My fit inside her is snug and intoxicating, making me desperate to fuck her senseless, but I’m a gentleman even in my most primal of moments. Once I’m fully inside her to my hilt, I pause and watch closely to ensure she’s adjusted to my length and girth.
Hazel's hand is against my chest tenderly, a smirk on her sexy lips. “Are you going to make me beg?”
“No, darlin’.” I smirk back. “That’s all I needed to hear.”
The bike rocks slightly with each of my merciless thrusts. I don’t lean down to kiss her, instead drinking in the sight of this gorgeous woman, naked across my bike as I take her with punishing force. Hazel grabs one of my hands and brings it to her mouth, kissing the pad of my index finger before she then takes my finger into her mouth. Her tongue swirls around it and sucks on it greedily.Fuck, that’s hot.
Then, she withdraws my finger and puts my hand on her throat. I squeeze it gently, and when I feel the vibration of a moan under my touch, I press harder. “Just like that,” she purrs.
It’s only now that I realize I might be the one on top, but she’s fully in charge. I’m usually the dominant one in bed, any loss of control usually filling me with annoyance and resentment. But with Hazel? It’s different in a way that will require more blood flow to my brain for me to figure out.
I’m choking her and pounding into her, watching as the brush of my Prince Albert piercing deep inside her makes her gasp. We should hurry up in case someone comes along, each moment a bigger and bigger gamble, but I’m totally transfixed on her lusty eyes and the heave of her tits with each pump of my hips.
“Flip me over,” Hazel instructs, her voice slightly strained from my hand on her throat.
“No,” I say, evenly. “I wanna watch you come.”
Hazel thrusts her hips into me in defiance, as though to buck me off so she can turn around herself. I accept the challenge, making my movements longer and jagged, withdrawing gradually before pushing back into her roughly. She jerks her hips again, but I know she’s not asking me to stop. This is a back and forth for dominance, and she’s enjoying the game.
