by Sophia Gray
“Yeah. Sorta. I mean, not really, I guess.”
She snorted. “Okay, so which is it?”
“I don’t really have a solid place,” he said, shifting in his seat. He ran his hands over the hem of his cut, as though reminding himself, or maybe her. “I’m a nomad.”
“Yeah, but, you’ve gotta have a home base,” she said.
He shrugged. “Nomads don’t. That’s why we’re called nomads.”
She blinked. “Oh. You mean…it’s a biker thing again.”
“Yeah. A biker thing.” He grinned, rubbing at the scruff on his jaw. “I like a change of scenery. A lot. It suits me.”
Her face fell, as though thinking back on something unpleasant. “Yeah, and I’ve been trying to get a change of scenery for too damn long. Wish it were so easy for me.”
“Well you’re getting it now,” he said.
“Yeah. That’s true.” She looked out the window, her dark hair falling in wisps around her neck. “Shoulda been years ago, though.”
“Never too late,” he offered. “L.A. is a good place to start.”
“Yeah. Maybe I’ll stay there longer.” She smiled softly. “Maybe I’ll just never go back to Olympia.”
He nodded. “There you go. Thinking like a nomad.”
“I never left before because I was working on my career,” she said, her eyes drifting over the tabletop. “I thought if I left, I’d ruin all my progress. But look at the progress: a stalker.”
“Your career will follow you,” Bastard said. “You’re really fucking good.” His words withered in the air between them as her gaze narrowed, like maybe he’d said something wrong. Fucking good was an understatement, but he didn’t have the words to express what her voice made him feel when he listened to her.
“You’re just saying that because we’re fucking now,” she teased.
“I’d have no problem telling you the truth, fucking or not.”
A mischievous look crossed her face. “Okay then. Tell me the truth. Am I the best lay you’ve ever had?”
He struggled to keep his poker face, to not let the shock and amusement show. “Why do you wanna know?”
“Girls like to know these things,” she murmured, leaning back into her seat as the waitress appeared with coffee. Their conversation stilled while she poured them both steaming black mugs. Once she’d departed, Kit lifted a brow. “So?”
“Can’t say yet.” Even though the answer was definitely yes. “Need to try it a few more times.”
She grinned, swatting at his arm. “You’re just trying to get me in bed again.”
“Maybe.”
“Well, it’s working. Pretty sure I know where to find you tonight after a whole day of sitting on the back of your bike.”
Something about her words made warmth trickle through him. He’d never once liked the idea of a girl spending the day on the back of his bike. Never wanted anything that serious, where he’d be responsible for picking up, dropping off, tending mood swings, cooking dinners, or any of the shit that came along with relationships. The R word barely existed in his world. And it would stay that way.
“Great.” He sipped at his coffee. “Sounds like a plan.”
Their breakfast passed quickly between easy conversation and laughter. If this was what all random hitchhikers were like—even though Kit wasn’t technically a hitchhiker—then he’d been missing out over the years. Or maybe all nightclub singers were this fun and easy to talk to.
By the time they hit the road again, it was almost noon. The Oregon day was gray but warm, by all rights a perfect travel day. Bastard swallowed his anxiety and ratcheted up the speed, eager to make up for lost time. But with the warmth of Kit pressed against him, he couldn’t totally focus on his eagerness to get back to L.A.
Really he just wanted to draw out this closeness for a while, the weight of her against him, her sweet fragrance clouding his senses. He never allowed himself to indulge in this way…to spend more than a handful of nights with the same woman, usually drawn out over weeks or months or, one memorable occasion, an on again off again fuck buddy situation that went on for a year until the girl decided to get married to someone else. It had suited him just fine.
But something about Kit begged him for more. Like he knew the taste he’d gotten was already never enough.
Her grip tightened around him as they zoomed down the Pacific Highway. Once the first glimpse of sparkling ocean was visible on the horizon, she squealed. “There it is!”
He grinned as her hands traveled over his chest. After a few moments, one hand drifted down between his legs, resting on the rough crotch of his jeans.
He glanced down, taking stock of who was around them on the highway. It was mostly empty, though occasionally a car or two flew past them in the opposite direction. Her hand stayed there for a moment, and then she pressed her palm flat against him, rubbing right up against his dick.
He gritted his teeth. She seemed like the type of girl who wouldn’t have a problem jacking him off in plain view on a highway. He might need to do some damage control shortly.
She started a furtive rhythm against his jeans, pressing and stroking him through his jeans. She coaxed his cock to life until it pressed hard and eager against the fly of his jeans. He gripped the handlebars extra hard as he drove, focusing on the road.
“You can’t wait until we get to the hotel?” he asked.
“I want you to fuck me on the highway,” she said over the wind. Bastard swerved, pleasure streaking through him as she continued stroking him.
“Give me a minute to pull over.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Kit couldn’t control her hands if she tried. Something about Bastard drove her wild, and the whole damn trip already felt like something out of a romcom, exactly the types of movie she tended to sneer at. Whoever got that lucky anyway? Who could launch whirlwind trips with strangers and have such mind-blowing chemistry?
Apparently she could—and had. And she couldn’t keep her hands off Bastard, this rugged, solid sex God who she already feared never seeing again once they got to L.A.
The motorcycle vibrated as Bastard crossed the rumble strips, heading for a long grassy bank dotted with trees. In in the distance, the ocean glittered azure and crystalline, strokes of sunlight glinting off the choppy surface like a painting. Bastard came to a stop between a grove of trees. Kit slid off immediately, leading him by the hand.
“This is perfect.” Her voice came out wispy as she beheld the view, a midafternoon paradise. The grassy bank rolled down a bit, and a trodden path razor-backed along the embankment. The perfect getaway path for an afternoon delight.
“Peach, we gotta be quick,” Bastard said, squeezing her hand.
“Oh, don’t worry. We’ll be quick.” She grinned as they stumbled down the path, dodging rocks and abandoned bits of fencing. A cluster of trees up ahead beckoned; the perfect spot, away from the prying eyes of highway drivers. She pushed Bastard by the shoulders and he came up against the trunk of the tree, the corners of his lips twitching up.
“This is the perfect spot, don’t you think?” She dotted his neck with kisses, fumbling to loosen his belt buckle. His strong hands cupped her hips, knocking her roughly against him.
“Depends on what you had in mind,” he growled, his sexy baritone sending electricity through her. She loosened his belt and undid the button of his jeans.
“Just stay put,” she said, and then sunk to her knees. She fished his cock out of his boxers, already rock-solid and bulging, moaning as she freed it. Just the sight of it made her wet. She didn’t usually spend time appreciating the attractiveness of a guy’s dick – really, she found what they could do more interesting than how they looked –but she could stare at Bastard’s all day.
“Your cock is so gorgeous,” she breathed, placing a tentative kiss on the silky head. He jerked beneath her, his cock bobbing a little.
“You like it big?”
“God yes.”
�
��It gets even bigger when you talk like that.” His hand fisted her hair at the nape of her neck. She hummed appreciatively, nuzzling his swollen cockhead before wrapping her lips around it and taking the full length of him in her mouth.
His groan pierced the air, weighty and satisfied. She took long draws at his cock, slobbery and juicy, trying to get as much of it inside her mouth as she could. Bastard responded by pumping against her, fucking her mouth, picking up a pace that made her pussy pulse with jealousy. She wanted him inside her. Again. Even though only mere hours had passed since the last time she’d cum. She needed him.
She disconnected from his dick with a loud pop and looked up at him, wiping at the corners of her mouth. He blinked down at her, his face hazy.
“You do that like a pro, Peach,” he said, his voice raspy.
“Well guess what. I need you inside me.” She tugged his pants down, freeing his dick from the fabric.
He grunted. “Can’t say no to that.” He pulled her up to standing, landing a sloppy kiss on her mouth, and then turned her around so she faced the tree. She gasped at the brusque way he handled her, goosepimples flaring on her arms. She pressed her palms against the gritty bark, bending over so that her ass wiggled in the air.
“You want this?”
He tugged at her leggings, a bite of wind meeting her ass cheeks. She shivered with anticipation, her pussy clenching. He cracked a quick slap against her butt, then nestled his cock between her ass cheeks.
“I want it more than you know,” he growled into her ear, jerking her into place. The heat of his cock slid between her legs. She arched back to meet him, like proffering herself to him, and then he was sliding into her, hands gripping the sides of her waist so hard that she thought it might bruise.
A strangled moan escaped her as he buried himself inside her. Her head dropped and stars burst behind her eyelids. This man felt more than magical inside her, made her feel whole and safe in a way that didn’t even make sense. They were fucking on the side of the highway in southern Oregon. Whole and safe barely had a place here. And yet…
Little gasps punctuated the air as he started an urgent pace, fingers digging into the sides of her body. It wasn’t long before heat crept through her body, fireworks flashing bright and then dark before her eyelids as an orgasm swept through her. She moaned low, palms digging into the rough bark, struggling to stay on her own two feet. Bastard grunted and pulled out, his cum arcing past her.
She collapsed against the tree, propping her forearm against it. Drawing ragged breaths, she tried to find her balance, to bring herself back to earth. But all she could focus on was the warm chop of pleasure lapping through her, the rush of the ocean in the distance, the breeze tickling her backside.
Bastard pressed a warm kiss to the inside of her neck. “You can’t get enough, can you?”
She laughed weakly, drawing up her head to look at him. “Is that a problem?”
“Nope. Not at all.” Bastard snagged a quick kiss, and then returned for another. They stayed like that, half naked and kissing so sweetly that her chest hurt. Why was it different with him? He was a transient, a sexy nobody, a biker guy who probably specialized in flings like these and then never thinking of them again.
So why couldn’t she focus on that?
When the kisses broke, Kit pushed at his shoulder. “Pull up your pants, you degenerate,” she teased.
He gave her a lopsided grin, tugging up his boxers and jeans. She adjusted her leggings, smoothing down her shirt. Presentable and normal. Not at all looking like she’d just been fucked against a tree on the side of the highway.
“You ready?” He offered his arm.
“Oh, we’re going to walk back all fancy, like we didn’t just fuck on the side of route 99?”
His laughter rippled through her. They trekked slowly back up to the bike. Bastard handed her the helmet, his eyes shining with something unknown while she fastened it into place.
“Why are you watching me like you have a secret?”
His boyish grin nearly cracked her chest open. Bastard might be a nomad, but she could see the childlike innocence beneath that gritty exterior. Moments like these that his true nature shone through, pure and enchanting. She wanted more of him.
“Just thinking about how I never once in a million years imagined we’d be here, doing this.”
The subtext to his words was like a small nod to what she was thinking. Unless she was just imagining it…which wouldn’t be hard to do. Kit was notorious for hearing what she wanted in relationships, especially once she started to fall. Which was precisely why she’d opted to not date since her last train wreck of a boyfriend.
Keep it cool. You barely know this guy. He’s about to be gone forever.
“I didn’t even know you until two days ago,” she said, sliding onto the back of the bike once he’d gotten on. “Barely had time to imagine anything.”
His response, if he had any, was swallowed up in the growl of the engine. She wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing herself tight against him, and rested her head against his back. In so short a time, this had become her safe space.
And no matter how hard she tried to ignore it or talk it down…something about Bastard felt like home.
***
Another day and a half of travel flew by in a blur of diner stops, laughter, and fantastic fucking sex. Bastard wished the trip could go on forever—like maybe to China and back, if it were even possible—but by the time they hit the outskirts of Los Angeles, it was dark and late on a Thursday night.
He could technically claim he was on time with the club, as long as it didn’t take long to drop Kit off at her friends. No way he could stop by the clubhouse first with her on back and offload the hundreds of thousands of dollars in cash without a raised eyebrow. He had to deliver her to her friend’s house, and then wrap up the deal with his brothers.
But afterward? You can see her. You can find her.
Thoughts like these had plagued him the entire trip. Most of them he attempted to swat away but they kept coming back like an ornery fly at lunchtime. Seeing her after he dropped her off seemed out of the question. What the hell point is there? What, will you start dating her or something? The thought was laughable. The Nomad and the Runaway. Great fucking plan that was.
All the same, Bastard’s palms were sweating by the time they pulled up to the squat row of apartment buildings on a broken concrete boulevard. Kit seemed hesitant to get off the bike, squinting into the dark, humid night.
“This is the address,” he said, jutting his chin toward the building. “Your friend Andi gave it to you.”
Kit blinked. Something about her hesitation was endearing. Like a little kid being sent off to school. This was her first big adventure into the world…her first real brush with being a nomad like him. Could she take it? She unsnapped her helmet and tugged it off, then slid off the bike.
“I’ll let her know I’m here,” she said, but didn’t sound very excited.
“What’s wrong? You’re acting like you’ve thought better of it.”
She shrugged, staring at her phone while she typed out a message. “No, it’s cool. I’m fine. I just…”
The tone and weight of her phrase told him it was anything but cool and fine. He knew enough about women to know the It’s just contained so much hidden beneath.
“What?”
She sniffed, looking up at him. “You and Andi are the only people I know in LA.”
He nodded, tugging off his riding gloves. “Yep. Isn’t that freeing?”
“No. It feels oppressive. Like I’m incredibly small and worthless.”
He cleared his throat, squaring her by the shoulders. “Kit. I haven’t known you that long, but I know you well enough to know you’re talking crazy.”
She laughed weakly, avoiding his gaze. “Yeah.”
“Go see your friend. Don’t freak out on me now. You’ve come this far, Peach.”
She gave him a little grin, the spa
rkle in her eye returning. “You’ll come in and meet her, won’t you?”
“Sure.” Warning bells in his head reminded him he needed to book it to the clubhouse…but he could see his girl off. Not that she was his girl, but…hell, after their trip, she was as good as his wife. As close as he’d ever come, at least. He snagged her duffel bag from the bike, tossing it over his shoulder.
Kit checked her phone, then led him down the walkway, more confidence in her steps. They entered a bright hallway. One of the doors opened and a blonde poked her head out, gasping with excitement.
“Kitty baby! Is that you?” The blonde squealed, leaping forward to grab Kit by the shoulders. The two friends laughed and hugged. Bastard scratched at the back of his neck, feeling awkward as hell.
