Captured Boxed Set: 9 Alpha Bad-Boys Who Will Capture Your Heart
Page 50
He takes out black leather chaps and gets down on one knee to help me put them on and fasten them.
I can’t resist, I let my hand cup his taut, leather-clad ass again when he stands up. I brush my fingers over the smooth black leather, then take my hand away. I’m aroused, but I have to wait…
Just a little longer.
Sawyer opens the garage door and coasts the Harley outside. In the fall sunlight, the chrome gleams. His other bike looks fast, like a crimson dart. The Harley is all sexy, sinuous curves. Seeing Sawyer on the leather seat, his long legs stretched out straight on either side of the bike, I have to bite my knuckles. My panties are getting soaked.
I pull on the leather jacket. I’m so horny my legs are now weak and shaking. I manage to walk up to the side of the bike, manage to swing my leg over. The leather seat is long—built for two. At the back of the seat, there is a bent chrome bar with a leather pad that presses into my low back. Not much protection but it gives me a sense of security.
Sawyer turns the key, gives a kick of his foot and the bike roars to life. The helmet mutes some of the sound, but my ass begins to tingle—so does my pussy—as the vibrations pulse through me. How can he ride one of these without being constantly aroused?
"Put your arms around my waist," he instructs. "You want to hold on."
"I intend to," I shout, over the rumble of the engine. My arms go around him and I grip him as tight as a hungry python.
My breasts are squished against his leather jacket and the broad, firm muscles of his back. This I like.
We start rolling down his driveway. As he tilts the bike to make a left turn onto the street, I squeal. Oh God, it feels like we’re going to be horizontal. Like we’re going to fall over and slide down the road.
But Sawyer balances the bike and me with expert skill. He accelerates onto the street. The wind rushes at me. My arms are locked around his waist and I hold on so tight I wonder if he can breathe.
I discover the exhaust pipe is hot. I avoid letting my shoe dangle on it.
At first I am scared witless. I’ve never done anything exhilarating and wild and exciting—except for sex with Sawyer. But as we head along the highway and leave Westingham, I begin to love the speed. I can see the lure of this. The thrill.
Plus, it’s incredibly sexy.
Sawyer turns off the highway, and we follow smaller roads until we reach a park in the White Mountains. Sawyer pulls in and stops the bike. There’s a picnic table and a rustic sign with an arrow that points to "The Lookout".
"I’ve been here before," he says. "It’s a gorgeous place. Do you want to walk down to the water?"
I lean close and say softly by his ear, "I want to find someone private and fuck your brains out."
I feel his body go tense under me. "Yeah?" he says. "Okay. I know a place." He starts the bike again.
It takes us five minutes to get to a turn off, and Sawyer slows down to drive along a lane. He finds a secluded parking lot. "People rarely come here," he explains.
We park the bike. Around us, the leaves are red, orange, and gold. Light shines through, making the colors glow. The sun is bright and the air is unusually warm for autumn. It’s a perfect fall day and the heat of the sun is perfect for sex outdoors.
I slide off the bike, avoiding the exhaust. In the deserted parking lot, I kick off my shoes and pull off my jeans and panties. Accidentally, I flash the road with my bare butt and I do a quick check. Still no one there.
Sawyer is staring at me. Off goes the leather jacket and I unhook my bra under my hoodie so I can pull both off together. I toss those over to the jacket. My breasts bounce with my movement. My nipples go hard at once. It’s not cold, so they are instantly erect because I am almost sobbing with desire for Sawyer.
I stick my feet in my running shoes—the parking lot is gravel—and dart back to the bike. As Sawyer gets off, I get back on. Naked.
"I want to do you on the bike," I say.
"A gorgeous naked woman on my bike. I think I’m dreaming."
I wriggle my pussy against the leather seat, still warm from Sawyer’s butt. "It’s real." I put my hands on the seat, which makes my arms squish my full breasts together. His eyebrows go up.
"If you do not get your butt over here and onto this seat," I say, "I am going over there and I’m going to jump on you and do wild, hot things to you until you surrender."
"Oh yeah? What wild and hot things?"
"Uh…I don’t actually know yet. I was making that up. I assumed you would come over here."
"Yes, ma’am." He grins. He comes back to the bike, unfastens his leather pants and pushes them down.
"Oh. Commando." I gulp as desire spikes through me. He is rock hard and ready.
He pulls a condom out of an inner pocket of his leather jacket. "I was hoping," he says, as he tears the wrapper, and rolls the condom over his thick, upright cock.
I have to get off the bike to let him swing his long leg over. I’m about to get back on when he lifts me by my waist and puts me down so I’m straddling his hips just above his cock. The head of his hard prick pokes my bottom.
"I want you to be mine, Claire."
"I am yours. If you want to be mine." I balance on my toes, reach between my legs and direct his cock to my pussy. I’m so wet I take him inside easily. I sink down, until my bottom rests on his thighs and he is buried in my pussy to the hilt. It’s so incredible I have to close my eyes.
I hold the handlebars and balance on my toes to thrust up and down on him. With each bounce, I take his cock deep inside. The thick shaft stretches me. God, he’s huge. His hands cup my boobs, holding them as they bounce up and down. He pinches my nipples. I love watching his thumbs and forefingers tighten on my nipples, twirling and tweaking them, making them get long and hard.
I moan and Sawyer groans, "Yeah. I love to hear you moan. Your moans are so hot."
I bounce on his cock, then he lets go of my nipples. "Stay still for a moment, Claire," he murmurs by my ear. His hand slides between my ass and his groin. His finger strokes my anus. I stay still, panting. The sensations as he plays with my ass are amazing. My pussy pulses around his thick, rigid cock.
He nuzzles my neck, right in the amazingly sensitive place in the crook. As I moan at the sweet sensations, his finger slides into my ass. Having his finger in my ass makes my pussy feel extra tight about his cock. And having my pussy filled makes my ass grip his finger.
He licks my neck and thrusts his finger in and out of my butt. I’m writhing in pleasure on top of him. Then he slips his left hand around my hips. His long, strong fingers find my clit.
"Ride me, Claire."
I pump on his cock and his finger, while he toys with my clit. I thrust harder and faster, and he lifts his hips to slam deep into me—
"Sawyer!" I shriek his name. The orgasm rushes through me like molten lava. I almost fall off him in the power of my climax.
He moans, a low intense moan, then his hips buck up. He rocks underneath me and his long legs balance the bike as we both thrash in ecstasy.
He slides his finger out of my rump as our climaxes ebb away. He kisses my neck and I slump back against him. I lift off him, releasing his cock. He cleans his finger on tissue. I cup his cheek and kiss him deeply.
"You’re mine, Claire." He draws something out of the pocket of his leather coat. It’s a small box. A ring-sized box.
"Sawyer—"
He flips it open. Inside is a beautiful ring with a gorgeous red stone in a heart shape. "A ruby," he says.
"You aren’t asking…what I think you’re asking."
"I know we haven’t known each other long, and we’re both only nineteen. But I want you to know how much I care about you. I want to give you this ring to symbolize our love."
He slips it on the ring finger of my right hand. "It’s gorgeous," I whisper. I climb back onto the motorcycle, facing him. "Wow. Now I see the fun in riding on a motorcycle."
He laughs and our mouths meet again i
n a steamy kiss. Now, I’ll never regret another impetuous move because Sawyer has taught me how to kiss, how to value myself, and how to fall in love with the most perfect guy ever—him.
His fingers slide down and he plays with my pussy again.
"You’re revving me up again."
"I want to go for another ride," he murmurs huskily.
And we do—because he’s fast and he’s mine.
# # #
If you loved this story by Sharon Page, sign up for her newsletter at http://eepurl.com/gN-5D to hear about Sharon’s latest releases. Or keep in touch using the following links:
Website: www.SharonPage.com
Newsletter: http://eepurl.com/gN-5D
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/sharonpageauthor
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/197121.Sharon_Page
Twitter: https://twitter.com/ReadSharonPage
Pinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/SharonPageBooks/
To skip directly to the next story, click here.
About Sharon Page
New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author Sharon Page graduated with a degree in Industrial Design (School of Engineering) and worked for years, by day, in the structural engineering field. By night, her secret identity was "Romance Author".
After selling her first book in 2004, Sharon has indie and traditionally published 20 novels and novellas. Her books have won many awards including two RT Bookreviews Reviewers Choice Awards, two National Readers Choice Awards, the Colorado Award of Romance, and the Golden Quill. Sharon was nominated by RT Bookreviews in 2013 for Career Achievement in Erotic Romance. Sharon is married, with two children, and now writes almost full time.
More Books by Sharon Page:
Sizzling and Erotic New Adult Romance
Yardley College Series:
One Hot Fall Term
One Hot Winter Break
Yardley College Alumni:
Fight for Me (MMA Fighters Book #1)
Erotic and Sensual Romance set in Regency England:
A Gentleman Seduced
Escape with a Rogue
Sinful
Sin
Black Silk
Hot Silk
The Club
Engaged in Sin
Deeply in You
The "Blood" Award-Winning Erotic Vampire Series:
Blood Red
Blood Rose
Blood Deep
Blood Wicked
Blood Secret
Blood Fire
Blood Curse
One Hot Fall Term
Sharon Page
Excerpt
It’s only the first weekend in September, but it’s cold out here on the dock. I undo my jeans and wriggle to push them down, exposing my butt in thong underwear to the frigid night air. I can see my breath, even though last week it was still summer. Goosebumps race over my bared cheeks. They already sprinkle my arms and chest, since I’ve stripped down to my bra and my t-shirt is lying on the planks of the dock, on top of my shoes.
I stop and rub my arms, trying to warm up. Am I covered in bumps because I’m cold or because I’m nervous? When I’m finally naked, I’m supposed to jump into the lake. And that rippling, black water looks freezing. Waves slap against the side of the dock. The smell of smoke from the cabin’s fireplace fills the crisp air. Music sounds faintly from the cabin and laughter spills off the deck. The sounds of an end of summer party and I have to bite my lip because tears are burning in the corners of my eyes. I’m nostalgic at the best of times, and this weekend—my last before I leave for college—is killing me. In so many ways.
I have my back to Ryan, but I peek over my shoulder. In the pitch dark—clouds cover the sliver of moon—I can barely see him. I hear the boards creak under his feet and his fly unzip, and I hear his breathing. Ryan runs ten miles every morning and evening, and he never seems to be out of breath when he’s finished. But tonight, his breathing sounds fast and furious.
Just like mine.
"Whoa Jesus, that’s cold."
I take another peek and hear his footsteps as he walks to the end of the dock, out of my field of vision. I suppose I can’t ogle him until I get everything off and let him get a look at me.
I’ve never seen Ryan naked. That’s funny and strange, coming from me, but I promised I was going to be different—everything was going to be different when mom and I came here to Milltown to live. It was like starting over again. And by some miracle I found something I thought I’d never find, something I was too screwed up to ever have.
An amazing, sweet, decent—not to mention uber gorgeous—guy. When Ryan went west to do his tour of his future military college in the summer, he sent me a rose. A single, perfect red rose in a crystal vase, delivered to my front door by courier. Why? Because he was going to be away from me for two days and he missed me.
Even remembering it, standing freezing on the dock, I start blinking. Damn, the tears are starting. I promised I would get through this one night without crying. I’ve got lots of time to cry on the trip to Yardley College—two days to do nothing but think about Ryan.
Tonight I get to see him. I’m not going to screw that up by being sad a day early. Tonight I know exactly what I’m going to do. This is probably it for Ryan and I—he’s going to be in the state of Washington at a military school, I’m going to be at Yardley College, in New Hampshire. For tonight, I’ve decided to ditch the good girl thing.
I’m going to make love to Ryan for the first and basically only time.
I’ve got one night to throw away all my promises to be sweet and good—the exact opposite of what I really am. I’ve thought about sex with Ryan for months now, and I’ve restrained myself. But I don’t want to go the rest of my life wishing I’d taken the chance to make love to a guy I love.
So I commit. I shove down my jeans and kick them aside. Undies next or bra? I guess the bra, and it’s a fight to unhook it. Bras are my addiction. This one is candy pink with white lace and even though it’s dark, the bra practically glows. My breasts bounce as it comes off and tighten as a wave of goosebumps wash over them. My nipples go hard at once and I cup my boobs with my hands in the desperate hope to warm them.
Why—so the shock of the water hurts more?
I have to let my breasts go anyway to ditch the thong. At least I can see my bra, shining like a beacon in the night—like a lighthouse for crazy females about to skinny dip in frigid water. I know where to toss my undies.
Clouds part above me and shafts of silver-blue moonlight fall on us and the water.
"Mia—" Ryan’s voice, deep and sexy and low, stops abruptly. Nineteen—like me—Ryan possesses the hottest vocals of any guy at Hubert J. Rory High. Baritone tones and a deep, throaty laugh. The first time I heard him read a section of Shakespeare in English class, I swear I almost had a climax on the spot. And that was for MacBeth.
I turn quickly. A spike of fear—this is going to be it. We’re going to be a thousand miles apart. He’s going to break up with—
I forgot I’m naked. My breasts swing, nipples perky, the curves limned with silver. But I’m staring at Ryan. Seriously, I’ve seen David Beckham’s underwear ads, and Becks didn’t begin to look as good as Ryan. Bulging muscle define his straight shoulders, and his chest is broad and bronzed from the sun. A tattoo of a dragon perches on his left pectoral muscle. Just looking at his arm muscles makes me feel a tug deep inside. A hard, visceral tug telling me how much I want to wrap myself around him and take him deep inside me.
It is more intense when you’re in love. Now I know. The jolt of desire is so strong my legs shake with it. My gaze coasts down his amazing gut. His stomach is a flat plane, with an eight-pack instead of a six. Who knew there were that many muscles?
I let my eyes go a little lower—
One Hot Winter Break
Sharon Page
Excerpt
It is ten days before Xmas, and Ryan and I are lying in my bed while my mom is out, entwine
d together to stay warm. My mom keeps the heat down in the bungalow to save on the bills, so we spend a lot of time in the winter wearing coats inside.
Ryan is under my sheets and worn quilt. His toes stick out of the end of my bed, which bothers me as I’m sure he is cold. He doesn’t seem to notice. Maybe because we’re both naked.
He kisses the top of my head, a Ryan-gesture I adore. "What do you want for Christmas, Mia?"
"This." I snuggle close to him, and wrap my hand around his amazing cock that is already hard again. I’m supposed to be the one who can keep coming time after time and enjoy the multiple orgasm phenomena, but Ryan and I have been apart so much that he is now insatiable. Apparently guys can bank up their horniness, and it can all explode at once.
I give his rigid shaft a squeeze. I have small hands and can barely touch my fingers around him. "This is all I want," I say, "being in bed with you."
Ryan gazes at me under his long, dark lashes. His hair, buzzed almost to his scalp, is white-blond but his eyelashes are black. He laughs huskily. "I want to give you more than that."
I hesitate. I know Ryan is struggling to afford school, even with the scholarship. "I don’t need anything else. You don’t have to get me anything." When he came to visit me just before Thanksgiving, he showed me how to use the equipment in the architecture school’s wood and metal working shops, which save me from failing my major fall term project. I really don’t need anything else.
"I want to get you a gift."
"Don’t, Ryan. You need your money for school."
He frowns, his lashes flicking down over his sapphire blue eyes. He runs his hand over his white-blond stubble. On Ryan, the severe hair cut looks sexy. "I’m not that poor, Mia."
"You—" I break off. I was about to argue and say that I know he is and I don’t care. That I don’t need stuff. But Ryan has a lot of pride.
He sits up in my bed, the sheets tumbling off him. The cool air washes over me and my heart hammers.
I’ve hurt him. Money is something he’s sensitive about.
I sit up too, my bare breasts jiggling. My nipples go hard from the cold. Goose bumps jump up all over my breasts. Shivering, I lean over and put my lips to his cock. He tastes of sex, of his come. Sticking out my tongue, I run it lavishly around the taut head. I strum along the crown, then open my mouth and suck his cock deep inside.