Moto

by M. Never

“Dev, plee-aaa-sss-eee,” she gasps, satisfying me thoroughly.

  With a smile I can’t erase and a throbbing cock so powerful, it could crush stone, I climb up Kayla’s primed body. Her entrance so slick, I slide effortlessly through her drenched folds.

  I gaze down at her as she pants laboriously, her eyes closed and facial muscles tense.

  “Beg me to fuck you.” I bite her earlobe and tug.

  With her hands still clinging to the sheets, she mewls, “Please.”

  “Not good enough.” I rub my cock harder against her clit.

  “Dev, please!” She arches, but that’s still not sincere enough.

  “Look at me.”

  Kayla cracks her eyes open slowly. Her warm brown pools are now a bottomless sea of black. “Say it.”

  “Dev, please fuck me. Please let me come.”

  Oh shit, my cock twitches. I wasn’t expecting the last part.

  “Damn, Kayla.” Without restraint, I slam into her, burying myself to the hilt. The two of us spasming out of control. I slide a hand underneath her back, forcing her up. She clings to my neck as I surge my hips, submerging my cock over and over.

  “Tell me.” I grit my teeth. “Tell me how fucking much you want me to let you come.”

  “So much!” she pleads, grinding against me, her walls tightening. “I need it so much!” Her voice is a strained whisper. “Dev, please.” Her pussy constricts, and I know no matter what I say, she’s going to explode.

  “Let go.” I pump faster. “Come for me, Kayla.”

  Not a moment later, the floodgates open, and I drown in a tumultuous sea of arousal. Kayla’s screams climb to a crescendo. The sensations and sounds spur my balls to draw up and follow her down the orgasmic black hole.

  We fuck so hard, we shake the four-poster bed, and when the volcanic vibrations cease, we’re both left in a pile of rubble. Worn bodies and vacant minds. I pull Kayla close and close my eyes. There’ll be plenty of time for pillow talk later. Right now, I just want to wrap my limbs around the woman I’ve been pursuing for months and fall asleep to the rhythmic sound of her rapid heartbeat.

  Mine, motherfucker. All mine.

  When I wake, everything hurts. My muscles, my head, and worst of all, my heart. It was just ripped clear in two.

  I gaze over at Dev sleeping soundly. He has me caged in his arms with a death grip around my body. I can barely look at him without the guilt eating me alive. What did I just let happen? Two men in twenty-four hours? Two men who look exactly the same but proved to be completely different.

  I willingly spread my legs for both of them, damning the consequences. How did I go from choosing neither to fucking both? The worst part is I’m utterly torn. Reese is gone and, as much as that devastates me, I’m more than tempted to wake Dev up and let him ravish me all over again.

  I’m a fucking mess.

  A Dane brother demo site.

  I have to clear my head and consider my next move. And there’s only one way to do that. Run. Figuratively and literally. I slide out from under Dev’s death grip as quickly and quietly as possible. He worked all night, so his exhaustion is in my favor. He barely stirs as I slink off the bed and collect my clothes. A twinge of guilt pinches my chest as I take one last look at the sleeping man. I wish I could be here when he wakes up, but leaving is for the best. I just don’t know how to face him right now.

  Once downstairs, I dress in a hurry, then do the walk of shame barefoot from Dev’s house to my truck.

  I’m in agony. Reese is gone, Dev is here, and even though they both have the same smile, and eyes, and face, they’ve each stolen their very own piece of my heart.

  I know fucking Kayla and then bouncing was a dick thing to do. But I had no choice. At least, that’s what I thought. I needed back in, and I was ready. I kept my sponsors in the loop during my recovery, and as soon as I gave them the green light, I was booked on a flight to Spain. I needed to race, and they needed a win. Too bad my return debut was a disaster for us both.

  Now, I find myself back in the one place I couldn’t wait to escape. It’s a strange new predicament for me. I couldn’t stop thinking about Kayla, no matter how hard I tried. That girl got under my skin, and no redline speed, flawless supermodel, or celebrity endorsement could distract me from pining for her. Which is preposterous. The only thing I’ve ever pined for is placement on the podium. Women never really mattered. That may sound cold, but my life is racing, and my commitment is to my bike. But Kayla breached that bond somehow. Funny thing is, I didn’t realize it until I left. Until there was an unfathomable void inside me I had never experienced before. There was no ignoring it, no denying it, and no arguing with it. So here I am, an hour and a half after landing back in the States, stalking her apartment complex like an obsessed freak. There was only one stop more important, and that was Riley’s garage to pick up my bike. Now that I’m armed, I need to become ready. But I’m strangely hesitant. Worried how she’ll react when she sees me. I’ve never given a shit about such a thing before. Women get weak around me, not the other way around. And I hate the aimless loss of control.

  Fuck it. I twist the throttle and pop a wheelie straight into her driveway.

  I’ve never backed down from a challenge before, and this time is no different.

  I rev the engine on the asphalt under her kitchen window. I rev it until she peeks out the glass. My heart pounds at the sight of her heart-shaped face and long dark hair. She disappears way too soon, leaving me restless.

  I look on under my shield as she materializes on her front step, approaching me slowly, leisurely, with a wayward look in her eyes. She doesn’t know what to make of me. That’s okay. At the moment, I don’t know what to make of myself. My pulse quickens the closer she comes. Once in reaching distance, I turn off the machine and remove my helmet.

  “Well, well, well, look who blew back into town. The prodigal, sex-stealing son.”

  Sex stealing, huh? Okay, maybe I deserve that. We did have a few rounds of mind-blowing sex before Kayla passed out in Dev’s bed, and I walked right out the door.

  “I don’t know how much I stole,” I argue superciliously. “I believe I paid you for your services.” I allude to the big fat check I left behind.

  Kayla scoffs as I drink her in. I love getting her flustered. I also love how hot she looks in those tight, ripped jeans and white see-through T-shirt.

  I rest my forearms on my lid as I balance on my bike, imagining all the things I’d like to do to her body. Kayla’s curves are more killer than COTA.

  “What are you doing here, Reese?” She folds her arms and fires away bluntly. She’s clearly in no mood to entertain me.

  I rock my bike back and forth trying to figure out the right way to explain this. It’s not like I wrote a speech.

  “I wanted to see you.”

  She raises her eyebrows doubtfully.

  “Why is that so hard to believe?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe because you fucked me and then just left. Doesn’t exactly leave a girl with the warm and fuzzies.”

  “I had to go.” I cop out.

  “It’s fine, Reese,” she bemoans. “I just thought our friendship at least warranted a good-bye.”

  “It did. And I know it’s not fine. So don’t bullshit me.”

  “I’m not bullshitting you. I know who you are—”

  “You don’t know anything about me,” I cut her off.

  “Then enlighten me. Why are you here?” she insists.

  “Because . . . I needed . . . to take a step back . . .” I let the sentence linger.

  “A step back? From . . . racing?” She fills in the blanks.

  I nod.

  “Why?” Kayla’s response is incredulous.

  “Let’s just say my much-anticipated return was anticlimactic.”

  By the look on Kayla’s face, it’s clear she has no idea what I’m talking about. And why would she? She knows zip about racing or my world. And how it suddenly came crashing down all a
round me.

  “I stalled out on the second to last lap. I was in the fucking lead and then . . . nothin’.” I cut my throat the same way the engine cut out. “Machine fucking malfunction.” Of all the goddamn things.

  By the look on Kayla’s face, my catastrophe doesn’t amount to jack shit on her scale of importance. “Maybe the universe is trying to tell you something,” she states snidely, without an ounce of remorse.

  She isn’t going to make this easy for me; she wants to see me squirm, which she can do like no other, but I don’t care. I’m swallowing my pride for the first time and am going to lay it all out on the line. I’ve crashed and burned before; I’m not afraid to do it again. But if she thinks I’m going to drive off without a fight, she has no idea who she’s dealing with. I’ve fought for everything I have, and I’ll fight for her, too.

  “I think it is,” I agree. “And I think I’m going to listen. I’m done for the season.” It destroys me to admit that. “There are only two races left. And no chance of a comeback with that last disaster.” I scratch my face. This rock and a hard place is killing me.

  “So what are you going to do?” She acts uninterested, but she’s still entertaining me, so I take it as a good sign.

  “I thought I’d get reacquainted with the area.”

  “But you hate it here,” she states the obvious.

  “I have my issues, that’s true, but maybe it won’t be so bad if you’re with me.”

  “Me?” Her eyebrows shoot up.

  “You. C’mon.” I jerk my head. “Let’s go for a ride.”

  There’s an abundance of trepidation in Kayla’s dark eyes. “I don’t think so.”

  “Why not? Because you don’t like bikes?”

  “Because I don’t like bikers,” she reminds me. Yeah, right.

  “That’s bullshit. Or you wouldn’t have slept with me.”

  She bites her lip. “Why do you have to bring that into it?”

  “Because I’m hoping for a repeat. Twenty dozen times over.”

  “No,” she refuses.

  “Yes.” I lean into her. “I know you want to ride me . . . I mean, my bike.”

  Kayla shakes her head, but I can see she’s wavering. I notice how she drinks in my thighs straddled over the seat and the seductive aerodynamic curves of the machine. Beauty in high precision. The one-of-a-kind bike and I make up a supercharged performance sensation. I know she doesn’t want to miss out on that.

  “C’mon, Kayla,” I coax her. “You have one life. Live it.”

  “Is that your motto?”

  “No, my motto is give me fucking fast. Now, get your ass on this bike.”

  Her breathing picks up, as if suddenly anxious. “I’m not that easy.”

  “Baby, don’t I know it. You had me panting for three months, and then you give it up to me the night before I have to leave. Talk about fucked up.”

  “What was fucked up is that you left without even so much as a good-bye.”

  “You going to hold that over my head forever?”

  “It just proves my point.”

  “Which is?”

  “Bikers are nothing but trouble.”

  “Well, I can’t speak for all of us, but I definitely am.” I flash a flirty smile. “And you know what I think?”

  “I couldn’t care less what you think.”

  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 th
e 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 to me. 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.