I chuckle, brushing off her snarky reply. “I think you like trouble.”
“I definitely don’t,” she contests.
“You might if you forgive me and get on this fucking bike. I’m not asking for anything more than a friendly ride. Yet.”
Kayla chews the inside of her cheek, and I can’t tell if she wants to kiss me or drop kick me.
“C’mon.” I urge her again, turning up the charm.
Reluctantly, she takes a step forward, coming so close the clean scent of her shampoo assaults my senses.
“Say you’re sorry,” she straight up challenges me.
I stare her down, determination burning in my gaze.
“I’m fucking sorry. And I mean it. I’ll never bounce like that again. I’ve never been good at goodbyes. And I’m pretty sure if I looked you in the eye, I wouldn’t have been able to leave.”
The hard lines in Kayla’s face soften. I think my earnest apology may have redeemed me. A minuscule amount.
After a few long, dragged out moments, Kayla smiles and sighs.
“Am I forgiven?”
“No.” She smirks.
“Yes, I am.” I snatch her wrist and yank her closer. “Get. On.”
Kayla twists out of my grasp almost fearfully. Never in my life have I seen someone react to a motorcycle the way she does.
“I haven’t been on a bike in a long time.” Tears actually form in her eyes. What the…?
“I’ll take care of you, baby. There’s no place safer than right here.” I tap my thighs.
“You know that’s not where I ride.” She stifles a laugh. Now, we’re getting somewhere.
“You can if you want. Cling right to me like a monkey.”
“Never.” She purses her lips.
Ah, there is a little pride in there.
“Then what’s it gonna be? Every second we stand here is one less mile on the road.” Kayla fidgets in place, deliberating. I don’t see the issue.
“I need a helmet.” She finally breaks her nervous silence.
I hand over mine, but she just stares at it chewing the shit out of her lip. “Hang on.”
She hurries over to the garage and punches in a code on the keypad next to the door, running inside as it opens. I look on as she disappears, spying a black sports bike with hot-pink wheels in the back of the garage.
Hmm . . .
Kayla returns holding a helmet bearing the same colors as the bike and a leather jacket with hot pink stripes down the arms and sides.
“That’s a hot little Kawasaki you have there—”
“Don’t say another fucking word,” she cuts me off at the knees, flinging on her jacket. “And just start the bike.” She slips on her helmet and hops on like a pro.
Well, fucking well, there is a story to be told. I’ll leave it be for now. I punch the starter and the tricked-out engine roars. I revel in the vibrations and the sound; I missed my beast.
Kayla wraps her arms around my waist, and I can’t suppress the smile.
“Reese?” She leans back and lifts her visor. “Is that a gun in your waistband, or are you just really happy to see me?”
“It’s a gun, but I’m also really happy to see you.” I slide my helmet on. That’s another thing Riley is good for. Extra heat when I need it.
“Why do you need a gun?” she asks over the loud rumble of the twin turbos.
“Kayla.” I twist back to look at her. “This is a one-of-a-kind H2R with mods out the ass and a lot of hungry bikers out there. Catch my drift?”
She nods.
No way am I going to let some street trash stick me up for my bike. Pull this puppy apart, and you’re talking tens of thousands of dollars in parts on the black market. Over my dead body.
I squeeze Kayla’s hand as I back out of her driveway then open up the throttle once on the street. It’s late October, so the temperature is mild. Perfect riding weather with colorful autumn scenery. I head straight for the backcountry, where the roads are windy and hilly. At seventy miles per hour, they become your own personal amusement park attraction. I thought I was going to have to go easy with Kayla on the back, but she clearly knows what she’s doing, leaning when I need her to lean and communicating with her body language. Riding has always been a thrill, but riding with Kayla is a whole new experience. I’ve never liked to share the road, let alone my bike, but with her latched onto me, our bodies as fluid as the gas turbine, it feels like we can take flight. I give her fist a little squeeze, signaling to her to hold on before I slip the clutch, give it gas, and snap back, lifting the front tire into the air. I hear Kayla’s excited squeal over the reverberation of the engine. She loves the exhilaration almost as much as I do. I drop down, then run up the RPMs, hitting top speeds down the straight in front of us.
Kayla rubs my chest as I slow it down to a leisurely speed. With her body leaned forward and molded to mine, and her hands roaming all over my chest, I’m having difficulty thinking. I swipe her palm between my legs showing her exactly what she’s doing tome. She squeezes my cock shamelessly, then slips her hand into my pants. Oh fuck, she’s lucky I’m an expert rider trained for distractions, because if it were anyone else in the driver’s seat, we would end up wrapped around a tree.
Little fucking tease. She has me feverish, my throbbing cock the igniter.
I pull over under a covered bridge made out of stone. It’s not incredibly long but provides enough cover for what I’m about to do.
I cut the engine and drop the kickstand. Then I turn completely around. I toss my helmet and then Kayla’s, the scorching look in her gaze telling me everything I need to know. I affected her as much as she affected me. Initially, it may have been in different ways, but it’s about to produce the same outcome.
I pull her onto my lap as our mouths crash together. She digs her fingers into my hair as I force her to grind on my rigid erection.
I all but rip her clothes off right under the bridge. What I wouldn’t give for her to be wearing a skirt at the moment.
“How adventurous are you?” I shove my hand into her jeans to find she’s drenched. Unable to stop myself, I thrust two fingers deep inside her pussy and begin to finger fuck her. She immediately arches into me, riding my hand.
“At the moment… dangerously adventurous.” Her words are breathy.
Oh, fuck yes. “This is going to have to be quick.”
“Good thing you’re an expert at fast.” She rips open her pants.
“Yes, I fucking am. But let’s just keep this quickie to ourselves. Don’t want to tarnish my reputation.” I mimic her actions with humor in my voice.
“God forbid. You wouldn’t want to be known as the minuteman for any other reason than racing.” Her tone is clipped and as exceedingly needy as mine.
“No, I wouldn’t.” I dismount first, then lift Kayla off the seat, peeling her jeans down to her thighs and bending her over the bike. Fuck, I’m losing my mind from just the sight of her. I know I said the only thing hotter than Kayla straddling me would be Kayla straddling my bike, but seeing her bent over it, bottom half-naked, top half in leathers, may take the cake.
I unzip my fly releasing my dick, which is screaming hysterically to get inside her tight little pussy. Tight, wet, heavenly pussy. Jesus, the way I’m responding, you’d think I never fucked before.
“Did you miss my cock?” I thrust into her, jerking Kayla forward.
“Maybe,” she gasps.
“Maybe?” I wrap my hand around her throat and thrust again, trapping her against me. “Let me repeat the question. Did. You. Miss. My. Cock?” I punctuate each word with my hips. Kayla moans loudly, the sound echoing under the bridge.
“Did you miss my pussy?” She deflects my question.
“What the fuck do you think?” I slam into her, melding our bodies.
“Yes,” she gasps again.
“Does that answer account for all questions?”
She peers back at me and nods.
“Good. Now f
ucking come before someone catches us. That’s all I need, is my bare ass splashed all over social media.”
“Make me.” She eggs me on, pushing back onto my rigid cock. She doesn’t need to ask twice.
I latch onto her neck and unleash, pounding away until she’s tightening around me and wriggling in my arms. “Right there, baby. I want that,” I tell her as her pussy sucks on my cock, spasming and soaking it in her warm wet cum. God.
The small gap in her legs and the slick, tight channel gives me everything I need to explode. I lean us both forward as the orgasm hits, sending me soaring. The sounds of my own grunts and groans echoing around us now.
Once I begin to come down, I bury my face been Kayla’s shoulder blades and breath through the aftershocks. Fuck this woman, and the fucking hold she has over me.
A cool fall breeze reminds me of our exposure. I withdraw from a winded Kayla, then pull her up to a standing position. I swiftly pull up her bunched jeans, then do the same to myself, stuffing my cock into my pants as Kayla leans back and kisses me. For a fraction of a second, I’m an ecstatic man.
We hear the whoop whoop of a police car before we see it. Goddamn. This is the last thing we need. I pull Kayla flush against me, vigilantly aware of the concealed weapon in my waistband.
I cycle through a multitude of silent questions. How much did he see? How big of a prick is he? What am I going to have to pay to keep him quiet?
The cop rolls down the window, and my defenses go up. But what he says catches me off guard.
“Hey, Kayla, everything all right here?”
“Hey, Scottie,” she responds cheerfully. “We’re all good.”
He nods, eyeing up my white, custom H2R with the chrome trellis. It’s one of a kind and definitely not street legal.
“Kayla.” He motions with his head for her to approach the car. Here we go.
She steps out of my grasp, around my bike, and bends over to lean on the doorframe.
Fuck, I love the view but hate the circumstances.
The officer speaks in a low tone, making it so I can’t hear their exchange as much as I try to eavesdrop. Kayla suddenly laughs, glancing at me over her shoulder. “I think I can arrange that,” she says loud enough for everyone to hear. “Later, Scottie.” She taps the hood of the cop car.
“Kayla, Mr. Dane.” He throws another head nod before he pulls away.
The cruiser drives off, and Kayla saunters right back into my arms.
“Are you going to tell me what that was all about?” Since I was left completely in the dark.
“Scottie is a huge fan. He’s kind of shy, so he asked if I could get him an autograph.”
“That’s all?” What an effing relief!
“That, and to tell you nice ass.”
“What?” I tense.
Kayla cracks up. “Just kidding. I don’t think he saw anything.”
“Well, thank heavens for good timing.” My muscles loosen.
“And being fast.”
“Hey, now. That was only for situation’s sake.” I slide my hands down to her round ass cheeks and squeeze. Mine.
Strangest concept ever. The only thing I’ve ever really laid claim on is carbon fiber fairings, four cylinders, and two wheels, but my narrow line of sight seems to be widening. “Ready to go for another ride?”
Kayla’s eyes flash. I love how she can twist a simple question into a sexual innuendo. Dirty girl.
“Where you taking me, moto?”
I pick up both our helmets from the ground. “So many places,” I imply. My turn to twist some words.
Kayla takes her helmet leisurely. “I’m sure you can, world traveler.”
“Experience comes with the platinum package.” I wink. “But for the time being, I thought we could go to a rally.”
“Together?”
“Yes, together.” I chuckle. I know what Kayla’s thinking. Showing up to a rally with a girl on the back of your bike makes a statement. I’ve never had an issue making a statement, and that’s not going to change now.
She’s left speechless, her plump pink lips parted. Just the reaction I was going for.
I’m taking a step back and reevaluating my life, and I don’t plan to waste a minute I don’t have.
“Ready?” I mount my bike and slide on my lid.
“As I’ll ever be.” She follows suit, saddling up behind me. I run my palm down her thigh just for the hell of it before I start the engine and take off for parts unknown.
Dev
Kayla hasn’t returned one phone call or text message. She’s avoiding me and doing a spectacular job of it, too. I’m not entirely sure what happened. I thought we had a breakthrough. We shared an amazing morning, and then when I woke up, she was gone.
I’ll admit it fucking hurt. Still hurts. I’m not some fucking sap, and Kayla isn’t some fucking girl. Maybe it’s karma biting me in the ass. I’ve done my fair share of fooling around, taking women for granted. So when I finally land the one who actually means something to me, I end up meaning jack shit to her. Damn. It still burns me up. And I still fucking fantasize about her every night. It’s a cruel, vicious circle.
I scan the mob of motorcycles on the lookout for Riley and Knight. It’s dark, but the numerous five-gallon drums of fire shed enough light to see into the distance. The air smells like a campfire mixed with burning rubber while the roar of racing exhausts howl in the distance. Outside the hospital, this is my life, my family. A motley crew of men and women riding carbon fiber horses in the middle of nowhere, free as a bird.
Reese asked me why I came back. This is why. This community. This privilege. This easy abandon. I missed it. Missed my feral side. Here, I can express who I am, both personalities, the professional and the tempestuous.
The land is littered with brightly colored Yamahas, Ducatis, and Hondas, so it catches me off guard when I see a white custom Kawasaki part the crowd like the Red Sea. What surprises me even more is that he has a girl on the back.
Reese pulls up next me, a small group of people flocking to us once he parks. We don’t even exchange a hello before the barrage for autographs begins. For a solid five minutes, Reese works the crowd, taking pictures, signing helmets, shirts and boobs all while the girl on the back clings to him shyly.
“Okay! Okay!” I bellow. If no one steps in, he’ll be trapped here all night. “Let the man breathe already! This isn’t a fuckin’ celebrity appearance!”
Reese signs a few last items before the horde dissipates.
Vultures.
I clasp my brother’s hand as he gets comfortable in the clearance.
“Who’s your friend?” I address the girl. When she removes her helmet—the blacked-out lid with pink racing stripes—I nearly fall off my bike. “What the . . . “Kayla?”
“Hey.” She actually has the decency to look guilty.
What’s going on here? My eyes jump furiously between the two of them. Am I in The Twilight Zone? The woman who proclaims publicly she doesn’t like bikes—or bikers—is currently sitting comfortably on my twin’s back seat, looking like she belongs there. Or at least belongs on the back of someone’s bike. I notice the way Reese touches her thigh, and I instantly become defensive, like a predator just moved in on my territory. How did this happen? What am I missing? Before I can erupt, Kayla flies off the back of Reese’s monster.
“Holy shit!” she nearly squeals. “Hold this.” She slams her helmet into Reese’s gut then takes off jogging into the distance.
Reese and I are both left perplexed until we see her nearly knock down another woman. It looks like an ecstatic reunion. You know, one of those girly ones where they jump up and down, hugging and carrying on.
I use this as the perfect opportunity to pounce.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I nearly rip Reese’s jugular out.
“What the fuck do you mean?” he snaps back.
“I mean what the fuck are you doing with Kayla?” I speak slowly, punctuating my words, hoping
they stab him right in the dick.
“What does it look like I’m doing?”
“It looks like you’re fucking around. What are you doing back here anyway? Shouldn’t you be gallivanting across Europe right now?”
“I’m taking a break.” He situates his helmet and Kayla’s on the gas tank.
“A break from what?” I’m completely confused.
“Racing.”
“What?” I’ve never heard anything so preposterous fly out of my brother’s mouth. “You don’t take breaks from racing.”
“I do now.” Reese keeps his gaze focused on Kayla, which only infuriates me more.
“She’s a good girl, Reese.” My tone is threatening.
“I know she is.” His response is indifferent, which makes me want to rip my hair out.
“Then what are you doing with her?” I press.
“What do you think?” He leans forward and squeezes the grips.
“The last thing Kayla needs is for you to sink your teeth into her.”
“She hasn’t complained about my mouth being on her yet.” He smirks darkly.
Rage flares inside me. “I fucked her the morning after you left.”
That gets his attention. His blue eyes narrow, sharpen.
“I fucked her the night before I left.” That information makes me nearly blow a gasket. “And an hour ago.”
I glare at my brother, exhausting every ounce of control I have to keep from punching him dead in the face.
“You going to tell her?” I seethe. “You going to make her fall in love with you and then break her fucking heart? Because that’s the only future the two of you have.”
Reese breathes heavily. “That’s speculative.”
“No, it’s not. It’s a fact with your lifestyle.”
We stare each other down, blue eyes to blue eyes, but no glowering intimidation tactic is going to change the cold, hard facts. He’ll end up leaving her one way or another.
“Why the fuck do you care?” He lashes out before the realization hits. “You love her.”
I turn away from him. Love may be a strong word. But care? I definitely care. Too bad she’s already made her choice. I now understand the radio silence. And goddamn does it hurt. It fucking stings like a swarm of angry hornets.
Keep This Promise Page 152
