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Authors: Serafine Laveaux
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righting up once more as they shot down the straightaway.
She was giddy with the speed and the overwhelming scents of leather and his cologne that conjured up images of salt spray and white sands. The bike roared beneath them as it raced through traffic, leaning and whipping around cars as she clung tightly to him. It wasn’t until they came to a stoplight that the constant rumbling of the beast between her legs finally got her attention. With nothing more than a thin bit of silk between her and the warm, throbbing seat, the sensation was akin to straddling the world’s largest, most powerful vibrator. The combination of the rumbling seat, the intoxicating smell of Chris, and the feel of his tightly muscled abdomen beneath her hands was overwhelming. Despite the cool wind whipping against her face as they zoomed down the freeway, her cheeks began to burn as the growing ache between her thighs became almost unbearable. Abby couldn’t help but wriggle her bottom against the seat, praying Chris wouldn’t feel her uneven breathing against his back or hear the occasional whimper that slipped past her lips as she let the heavy vibrations fill her body.
* * *
Chris tried to concentrate on the traffic as they sped along, but it was impossible to ignore his passenger’s antics. She was practically glued to his back, and he wondered if she had any idea he could feel her subtle grinding against the seat. Grinning, he maneuvered the chopper between two cars and shot between them on the center strip, eliciting several angry honks from startled drivers and a startled gasp from Abby. Taking a hand off the handlebars, he placed it over Abby’s forearm and squeezed reassuringly for a moment before resuming his hold on the bike. He could have brought the car, but he was well aware of the effect the vibrating motorcycle had on female riders and intended to put it to good use. Judging by the death grip she had on his waist, it seemed it had also given her a bit of a scare. That was fine by him. A little bit of fear often heightened arousal, and if the heaving of her chest was any indication, Abby was plenty aroused.
She wasn’t the only one. From the moment her file and photo appeared in his inbox, he’d felt an undeniable attraction to her. A newspaper copy editor who dressed like a goth and was into skateboarding. To his surprise, the paperwork showed she came from a wealthy family, with several rising stars for sisters. Private school, beauty pageants, frequent mentions in the local society pages. At least, mentions of her mother and sisters. Mallory Dawn Willis might as well have been a ghost. Not that he was surprised. Her fuck you attitude was obvious in everything from her clothing to her job to the car she drove, and he doubted the family went out of their way to include the black sheep in social gatherings.
The attitude didn’t bother him at all; in fact, it was what drew him to her. He could see it was just a protective defense. Beneath the exterior was a lost, innocent, trusting little girl—he was sure of it. The challenge would be drawing her out. That, and not losing control, which was proving more difficult with every full body shudder she transmitted to him.
God, I want to taste that mouth. He imagined himself behind her, buried to the hilt in her pussy, with those saucy ponytails of hers grasped in one hand. His other hand firmly and rhythmically smacked her cheeks to a beautiful crimson. Groaning, he gave his head a quick shake to clear the images, determined to focus on the traffic instead of his own swelling hardness demanding to be set free.
Behind him she shifted and buried her face in his hair. Her hot breath burned against his neck, and in an instant, the visions roared back. This time his thick cock was slipping in and out of her full lips, her beautiful blue eyes turned up to him as he held her ponytails and guided her along the entire length of his glistening shaft. Teaching her how to take it
She was giddy with the speed and the overwhelming scents of leather and his cologne that conjured up images of salt spray and white sands. The bike roared beneath them as it raced through traffic, leaning and whipping around cars as she clung tightly to him. It wasn’t until they came to a stoplight that the constant rumbling of the beast between her legs finally got her attention. With nothing more than a thin bit of silk between her and the warm, throbbing seat, the sensation was akin to straddling the world’s largest, most powerful vibrator. The combination of the rumbling seat, the intoxicating smell of Chris, and the feel of his tightly muscled abdomen beneath her hands was overwhelming. Despite the cool wind whipping against her face as they zoomed down the freeway, her cheeks began to burn as the growing ache between her thighs became almost unbearable. Abby couldn’t help but wriggle her bottom against the seat, praying Chris wouldn’t feel her uneven breathing against his back or hear the occasional whimper that slipped past her lips as she let the heavy vibrations fill her body.
* * *
Chris tried to concentrate on the traffic as they sped along, but it was impossible to ignore his passenger’s antics. She was practically glued to his back, and he wondered if she had any idea he could feel her subtle grinding against the seat. Grinning, he maneuvered the chopper between two cars and shot between them on the center strip, eliciting several angry honks from startled drivers and a startled gasp from Abby. Taking a hand off the handlebars, he placed it over Abby’s forearm and squeezed reassuringly for a moment before resuming his hold on the bike. He could have brought the car, but he was well aware of the effect the vibrating motorcycle had on female riders and intended to put it to good use. Judging by the death grip she had on his waist, it seemed it had also given her a bit of a scare. That was fine by him. A little bit of fear often heightened arousal, and if the heaving of her chest was any indication, Abby was plenty aroused.
She wasn’t the only one. From the moment her file and photo appeared in his inbox, he’d felt an undeniable attraction to her. A newspaper copy editor who dressed like a goth and was into skateboarding. To his surprise, the paperwork showed she came from a wealthy family, with several rising stars for sisters. Private school, beauty pageants, frequent mentions in the local society pages. At least, mentions of her mother and sisters. Mallory Dawn Willis might as well have been a ghost. Not that he was surprised. Her fuck you attitude was obvious in everything from her clothing to her job to the car she drove, and he doubted the family went out of their way to include the black sheep in social gatherings.
The attitude didn’t bother him at all; in fact, it was what drew him to her. He could see it was just a protective defense. Beneath the exterior was a lost, innocent, trusting little girl—he was sure of it. The challenge would be drawing her out. That, and not losing control, which was proving more difficult with every full body shudder she transmitted to him.
God, I want to taste that mouth. He imagined himself behind her, buried to the hilt in her pussy, with those saucy ponytails of hers grasped in one hand. His other hand firmly and rhythmically smacked her cheeks to a beautiful crimson. Groaning, he gave his head a quick shake to clear the images, determined to focus on the traffic instead of his own swelling hardness demanding to be set free.
Behind him she shifted and buried her face in his hair. Her hot breath burned against his neck, and in an instant, the visions roared back. This time his thick cock was slipping in and out of her full lips, her beautiful blue eyes turned up to him as he held her ponytails and guided her along the entire length of his glistening shaft. Teaching her how to take it
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