She took it.
“You only have to ask once.” His words rumbled against her earlobe while his hands smoothed the fabric over her bottom, pausing at a very intimate spot.
“You’re going to make me ask?”
He gave her a look that indicated he was, indeed, going to make her ask. Oh, for goodness’ sake.
“Brek?” She tilted her head to the side.
“Yeah, V?”
“Will you have sex with me on your motorcycle?”
His grin practically split his face in two. “I thought you’d never ask.”
He let go of her hand and turned on his heel to swing his leg over the seat—which was great and all, but what the heck was she supposed to do? She crossed her arms around herself. There was no way this could work. Sex on a bike was physically impossible.
He turned over the engine and stepped off the bike. “Take off your panties.”
They could always try, though. Drawing on the small bit of courage she still had, she hiked her skirt up, hooked her fingers over the edge of her lace underwear, and pulled them to her ankles. She wasn’t exactly the picture of grace, but she managed to tug them over her pumps.
“Hand ’em over.” Brek held out his hand and snapped his fingers.
What on earth did he want with her panties? Cautious, she placed the lace in his palm. He gripped the scrap of fabric and her hand to pull her into his arms.
He leaned his lips to her ear and ran his hand along the small of her back to the edge of her skirt. He lifted it to run his hand between her thighs. She parted her legs at the familiarity of his touch, and a shiver of carnal desire coursed through her.
“Shoes stay on.” His voice was rough, his fingertips sliding against her already wet core.
She leaned against him, relaxing into the movement of his hand.
“I let go, you swing your leg over the bike. Like you’re gonna ride her,” he continued.
“Her?” Velma’s own voice turned throaty.
“Don’t worry. She’ll treat you nice.” Brek chuckled, his firm erection obvious through his jeans against her hip. “You two are about to become very good friends.”
He circled her sweet spot with his thumb.
A moan escaped from between her lips.
“Just climb on. That’s all?” Thoughts weren’t coherent at the moment. She glanced up to him.
“To start.” He did not look at all like he found her boring.
He withdrew his hand, and she nearly begged him to put it back. But, no, she was being brave and trying new not-boring bedroom activities—activities that now involved his motorcycle.
Hopeful the dark night would continue to provide cover for what she was about to do, she stepped to the bike. The red gravel crunched under her pumps. Unsure, she tossed her leg over the seat.
Oh. Well, hello there. Brek was correct. She and his motorcycle were going to be good friends. Exceptionally good friends. The motor purred right where her lace thong had been. Her eyes seemed to close involuntarily as she placed her hands on the tank in front of her. Somewhere in the dark, the clink of Brek’s belt echoed, but she didn’t care because, at the present moment, his bike was teaching her how wonderful vibrations in a gravel parking lot could really be.
He slipped behind her on the bike and, sweet starlit heavens, the man wasn’t wearing his jeans. He lifted her skirt, and his erection settled against her back. Only for a moment, because before she could say,Hey, that feels nice, he’d tilted her pelvis and, holy God, the stars in the sky blurred as her sweet spot slid into contact with the vibrating seat. His erection settled between her thighs, not entering her…just stopping by to join the party.
“Holy crap.” She gripped the tank harder.
“Shit, V.” He bunched her skirt around her waist. “I’m not even in you, and I’m about to—”
“Remedy that,” she demanded, squirming against the erection near her entrance. “The inside part.”
