by Paula Cox
“Say it again. Say it like you fucking mean it.” My hand drives itself in, parting the folds so that her clit is exposed to my thumb. I press tightly up against it, holding it in place so that it twists and spins with my fingers. “Say it,” I urge her on.
“More Mack!” she answers loudly. “I want you… More! Fuck!” Anna’s lost all control. Her hands pound on the table, her knee hits the legs, clinking the wine glasses and silverware. I’m sure we’re attracting attention now, but nothing can stop me from getting what I want out of her. “I’m going to cum,” Anna adds, but I’m already there. I press my lips on hers, forcing the last breath of her into me.
Sparks fly, piercing the skin between us. She holds on to me desperately while her legs quiver and shake. Finally, they fall to the ground, her tan heels clinking to the metal floor. The grip on the chairs fall, her arms wrapping around me. My hand inside her feels it—her wet, long orgasm takes hold of her.
I don’t move for a long time. My hand stays there, resting against the skin. I touch her gently, wanting her to come back to me when she’s ready. Like she said, she needs time, and I’m not ready to let go of this moment either. When she’s back to me, her eyes peel open slowly and her legs shift together, urging me out. I use the napkin on my lap to wipe up the mess around her thighs, reorganizing her underwear back on her skin. She too darts the cloth against her chest, brushing away the little beads of sweat that have formed.
The waiter, as if in the know, brings me our check. I place a few twenties in the black billfold and then turn back towards Anna. “I missed that,” I find myself saying without thinking. “I missed you.”
She doesn’t reply to this at all. Instead, her eyes flare fire, her words quickens, “Where can we go?”
“Anywhere,” I reply, breathless.
She stands, adjusting her hemline. “Then, come on...” Anna reaches out and grabs my hand. She pulls me along the length of the restaurant. And this time, she doesn’t bother looking over her shoulder.
CHAPTER 18
We coast through the parking lot of the restaurant, trying to find some place or other we can go for a little alone time. Vacant, darkened cars line themselves up in neat little rows, looking almost wistful and forlorn as they sit dead and lifeless. A few motorcycles rest near the back entrance. Headlights flash as they pull in and out like synchronized dancers turning and spinning in time. My head races with what I have in mind.
I haven’t felt like this in weeks, not since that night at the cabin. With each passing day, life has seemed to normalize, to fall back into balance, causing my need for Mack to return in full force. If anything, the longing has become even more fierce, particularly with the thought of him running through a field of bullets for me. How could you repay a man for risking every last little bit of himself for you? I hadn’t been able to come up with an answer—not until right now.
I briefly consider taking him back as far as his office or the studio, but we would have to pass by leering, judgmental eyes and invasive, haughty smirks. And, I mean, I’m more or less used to shit like that by now, but to be honest, I far prefer a bit of privacy. Of course, there’s also the tattoo shop on the other side of the restaurant, but I really despise the prospect of mixing business with pleasure. That’s my place to zone out, to tune out, to drop out—not to make out.
That’s when I spot it. I haven’t wanted to touch this thing since I first got on it with Riley. It still scares me—how it sputtered loudly, roaring with each rev of the engine. I hated how close I felt to death, the cold, hard pavement flying dangerously closely below my feet and thighs. But then again, I’ve now faced death head-on and somehow managed to make it out alive. Maybe the motorcycle wasn’t so bad after all.
“Come on,” I call back behind me to Mack. He has been staring daggers in the back of my head as I thought this through, waiting somewhat less than patiently for me to come up with something. “I have an idea,” I say. Actually, I have so many ideas, I’m not a hundred percent sure where to start.
But the truth is, I have no idea how this is going to work. It works just fine in those cheesy chase sequences from 80s action movies, but I haven’t ever actually tried to pull something like this off myself. Still, I stiffen my lip and bring him over to his Harley. Tracing my hand on the leather seat, I pat the upholstery gently with the best “Come hither, boy” look I can muster.
Our seduction plays have been largely led by Mack. He’s all about that control, making sure I do everything he wants me to. But tonight, I need to feel in charge for this to work. It’s working. He peers down at me slightly before walking over to his cycle, his keys spinning on one long finger. He positions himself on the front, but I push him backwards with just enough room for me to slip in the front, facing him. My legs hook over the top of his thighs and I hold on to his waist as tightly as I can.
He looks down at me, eagerly. “Have you ever done this?” I ask. A rather irritating part of me doesn’t even want to know the answer to the question, fearful he’ll say he has—or, worse, that it’s his typical go-to.
I’m almost relieved when he shakes his head no. I smile widely as I purse my lips and say, “Good. Then let’s get the hell out of here and out on the road.” I place my head on his shoulder as he backs the motorcycle up and then turns the engine on. My uncovered pussy ignites with the vibrations directly between my thighs, and I can feel Mack’s bulge grow hard against his jean against my stomach and hips.
As he drives out into the night, I begin. My lips start along his ear, tracing the curly hairline up against his neck to where some of the strands touched his back. I yank his long-sleeved shirt down, giving myself more skin to kiss as I move to his front. He grunts as one of my hands floats down between both of our legs, resting on his shaft.
The bike moves faster, desperate to get to a destination somewhere far away from here. I don’t notice anything but the cool wind whipping forcefully at my back, as well as the few lights of passers by slowing at the sight of us. I don’t love the idea of an audience, but I’m too focused on releasing his cock from the depth of his tight, firm jeans.
The zipper slides down quickly and I find the buttons of his boxers. His member pushes upwards against the seam, allowing me to hook my hand around him. It’s already stiff and pulsating. I don’t blame him. The thought of me exposing him like this out on the road is turning me on in ways I could have never imagined.
A hunger burns inside me, threatening to break through like lava from a volcano. The only thing I want to do at this moment is to lean down and take his entire length inside my warm, moist mouth, reveling in the soft, salty sweetness. But instead, I am stuck between his arms and the handlebars, my desire increasing a hundredfold by the second. With no good options, my hand will have to do.
Slowly, I begin to stroke him, wrapping my slender fingers around his girth. My eyes find his behind the pair of sunglasses he threw on before pulling out. Blonde hair whips in his face towards his open mouth. He struggles to keep his eyes open and his head forward. One wrong move and our cycle could find itself in the side of a parked car or up a curb.
I stick to a slow, steady movement. I want to keep him warm, fresh, and eager for my pussy. As he slows to a stop at a red light, I move the neckline of my dress down under my bare breasts, fully freeing them for him to enjoy. We take off seconds later, moving even faster towards the empty skyway, out east away from the city. The wind feels like ice against the tips of my nipples, making them hard almost instantaneously. The pleasure is indescribable, making my hands move faster around his cock. We’re almost there—I can feel it.
We’re about three miles off the exit when I let go of my grip on him. With arms thrown around his neck and my bare chest pressed into his, I growl up towards him, “Park, Mack!” I point over towards a field without a fence. The ditch is just wide enough that the bike can cross and there are a few scattered trees we can take cover under. With no light on the highway besides the taillight, we’re free to
do whatever it is we have in mind.
I slip off the front of the motorcycle first, pulling myself near the front of the bike. I can feel the warmth of the engine and tire near me as I wait very impatiently for Mack. My pussy is on fire now, and all I want is to feel his fullness inside of me.
Mack, for his part, stays on the front of the bike, watching me cautiously, almost like he thinks I’m going to run away at any moment. Finally, he speaks, but in more of a snarl. “I want you back up here,” he seethes. It’s more of a command than a request. I know better than to question any of his directives, but still, I walk slowly towards him, wondering if he will leap out at me—or worse.
When I don’t move fast enough, he pulls me towards him, his big, grizzled hands wrapping around my waist. In one swift, fast motion, he turns me around so that I am back on the front of the bike. This time, however, I am facing the handlebars and away from his face. He wastes no time grabbing the hem of my tight pink dress and pulling it up over my waist while stripping off his own shirt and jacket. I push my head forward towards the handlebars, giving him full access to what lies underneath. His swiftness almost tears the skirt away, and I can feel red, raw marks forming below my ass. Normally, that would be uncomfortable as hell—but in this case, I love it, as the mild pain makes me even wetter.
“Are you sure you really want to do this?” he asks, already knowing the answer before I can reply. I nod, biting my bottom lip seductively, but he doesn’t bother waiting. He is already positioning my legs over the sides of the bike, allowing me to spread myself for him. He leans my hips upwards with the back of his hands against my stomach, and that’s when I feel it: the thick, round tip of his cock, positioned to assault my soaking wet pussy, ready to dive deep between the two damp folds. Mack parts the waves, moving through the skin until he’s fully inside of me, filling me with his long length.
We both rest there for a long moment, enjoying the pleasure of a connection between our already convulsing bodies. The wind whispers in our ears, matching its own breath with ours. On the other side of a highway, a truck passes by, its high beams hitting us for a few seconds before disappearing in the other direction. Everything becomes still again as he moves, sliding himself up and down the length of the black leather seat so that his cock becomes part of the motion.
Mack’s hands grip tightly onto the front of my hips, and I feel a delicious friction beneath the roundness of my ass. His long fingers tease my excited skin, pinching and pushing and kneading into it until, brusquely, they slip around to the front. They’re just long enough to reach the opening of my clit. A shot of pleasure strikes me when he finds the magical piece of me that sends light shooting through my toes and up towards the crown of my head.
He thrusts forward again, pushing his nine-inch cock deep within me while still gently rubbing my nub. Through his pumping and gliding, I can feel the impression his balls hitting my ass on the rebound as he fucks me harder and deeper than ever before. I let out a wild, faraway moan that almost sounds like a she-wolf in heat howling into the night. All I can do is wrap my hands around the chrome and the steel and rock backwards into him, making sure he’s not doing all the work for us both.
It’s impossible to focus on anything but Mack’s cock in me, but with the wind blowing up around our bodies, I get the small hint of leather and oil. Heat off of the motorcycle radiates around me, filling the air with steamy, intoxicating smoke. The silky smooth texture of the seat underneath my body caresses my skin, giving me something for my hips and stomach to bounce off of.
Mack groans and grunts with each long, deep thrust into my waiting hole. His thick, gnarled hands smooth away the slight folds of my skin, tracing along my spine. Despite his gentle touch, there is something in me that hardens and burns all at the same time. It cries out to him, searching for him, desiring him in every way imaginable, like I want to devour him entirely. It’s the same feeling that I felt from under the table with his hands doing all the work. In fact, it might now be even stronger.
My pussy begins to contract and seize, building to a breaking point. The vibrations in my chest move down towards where his cock is holding me, throttled. My blood pulses in time with my racing heart beneath my skin, thumping like a tight drumhead. I’m close—so achingly close that I can taste the sweetness of a massive orgasm in my mouth—but I hold onto the anticipation, pushing it ever-so-slightly down, trying to get my cum in rhythm with his. If we’re going to make love, we’re going to make love together, right here.
Luckily, he isn’t far behind me. Mack’s grip on my hips becomes ironclad. He takes over, moving my hips in time with his. We slow suddenly, but the movements are firmer and more deliberate. That’s when I let myself go. My head swings back towards my shoulders, whipping the hair towards my side and back, yelping out in ecstasy. I expose myself to more of the night air while the heat of my orgasm rolls off of me.
Mack pulls out quickly, and I instinctively thrust my fingers between my folds. As I rub furiously, extending my orgasm even more excitingly, his cock explodes onto my ass, white and sticky fluids dripping around the base of my spine. He grunts, and I look behind me to see him stroking himself emphatically, his head thrown back in a moment of pure pleasure.
My own cum subsides, and I rub a little more gently, finishing off one of the greatest orgasms I’ve ever had. Mack exhales, gasping for air. As we both come down, we remain still, unsure of who should move first. Neither of us wants to break this feeling of peace and ecstasy. It’s just too delicious.
Finally, Mack pulls away, giving me room to reposition myself. I swing my hips up and around so that I straddle the seat again with our knees touching another. Mack’s long arms drape around my back, pulling me closer to him. I can practically taste the beads of sweat that drip down from his neck to the center of his smooth, tattooed chest. I’ve never appropriately taken in the sight of his bare body, the lines of his muscles, the way his tattoos shimmer in the moonlight. I want to bury myself in him.
I lean down, kissing his pink skin. He already feels cold to the touch, so much so that I have the urge to just pull him into me more. I drape my arms around his neck so that our hearts touch. In his ear, I whisper, “I never want to leave here. Ever.”
I don’t think I’ve ever spoken this much vulnerable, painful truth in my life. The last week has been like walking slowly through hell, but this is the light at the end of the river of the damned. Here, in this field next to the highway, I had found some patch of heaven I really did not deserve.
Mack ruffles my hair from the back, pulling it in towards him for a long breath. When he exhales he says quietly, “I know. I feel the same way, but we have to go back. You need to go to the house on the hill, and I’ve got club things to take care of. That is, unless you want me to come back with you.”
I smile slightly, hiding it in the crook of his shoulder. There’s a part of me that screams “yes,” but I have to hold back. In this spot away from the city and our world, we’re nothing but two passersby making love to another. But back in the fake comfort of our lie of a home, we are at risk for more of the same attack. And I am just not ready to go back to that.
My silence must speak for me as Mack pulls himself off the bike and pulls up his jeans. In a stoney silence, he puts his shirt back on and the jacket he threw off. I adjust my panties and my dress before moving back down towards the passenger position of the bike. He takes one long look at me with eyes that almost plead for me, but I look away, facing front towards the open road.
As he walks back, I hear the buzz of his phone against his legs. Seconds later, my phone rings from its place in my purse tucked away in the bucket. Normally, this would be nothing, but the timing is suspicious. Something in my stomach drops as he grabs for his back pocket and I reach behind me towards the storage.
Mack gets the news first. His eyes widen before he shouts, “What the fuck?”
I quickly turn my phone on, nervous to see what was wrong. There are three texts in my
inbox. The first is a picture of blood and a body—Rico’s. His gray hand rests upon a red plastic canister of gasoline. The picture taker holds out a lighter ready to go.
The second text reads, “WE’RE NOT THROUGH” in capital letters. The blood drains from my face as I read the final one. It’s another picture of Rico still alive. He’s holding a tattoo gun from my shop while a bandaged and scarred Riley sits on my tattoo chair with his arm out. I pinch the screen, focusing in on the tattoo Rico is crudely drawing by gunpoint.
It’s the unmistakable sign of the Knights, the tattoo that started everything—the circle with three lines. This could mean only two things: Rico was dead, as they had managed to kill every tattoo artist but me that ever put that circle to skin and that Riley was both alive and on the hunt. Those who received that tattoo had only one reason to get it—they were about to take a life in cold blood.
The phone slips out of my hand, falling to the ground beside the back tire of Mack’s Harley. I look up towards him, his own face an open book of horrors. Even with my mouth dry, I manage to squeak out, “Riley’s back. We didn’t kill him. How could that be? Didn’t I—”
“Don’t worry about that right now, Anna. We need to go find Rico before they—”
