by Paula Cox
As she sat down, I said, “I didn’t think you’d show, Anna,” trying to keep the mood light. “But I’m fucking delirious right now looking at you in that dress.” That smile grew only wider.
It’s only when I make the mistake of asking about Ian that she becomes agitated and anxious again. Suddenly, that plate of fish tacos stops getting eaten and her glass of white wine is only sipped on, like a robot programmed to take a drink with each long pause of conversation. While I only wanted to know how the guy was doing now that he was out of the hospital and in rehab, her mind has managed to travel back to all of her worries.
And that’s when I catch myself from saying that it’s going to be okay. Looking over at Anna and her nails bitten down to the skin, I can tell that it’s exactly the wrong thing she wants in this moment. She’s the one who needs to decide that it’s okay, and we aren’t at that point yet. I can’t force her to tough it out, like I would have with any of my men going through some PTSD shit. She’s a whole different animal than me or the boys.
After a long moment of silence, I clear my throat and call for the waiter to take the plate away. The table clears and I lay my long arm out towards her, offering my hand. To my surprise, she takes it. In a whisper, she says, “I’m sorry. I know that there isn’t any reason to be worried or acting like this, but I just can’t get over this feeling that there is someone following or watching me. It’s like we got out of that basement alive, but this isn’t the end. There’s more coming.” She blinks slightly before backing against her chair. “I’m sorry again. I must sound like a complete crazy person to you. I just can—”
“You don’t have to explain anything to me, Anna. What happened to us down there is something beyond what any civilian would see on a day-to-day. And if you were acting normal after Riley and the…” I didn’t want to use the words “murder” or “kill” so I just plowed on nervously, careful of the landmines my words could trample over. “After Riley and Zeke. I would have been worried about you if you could sweep that under the rug and pretend that everything is okay. I want you to be alright, but I’m not going to push you. You do what you need to do.”
Her eyes widen a bit. The lids soften over her glowing pupils. Her cheeks blush again, the same color of that dress with the heart-shaped neckline. Color returns to her chest and neck. “Thank you,” Anna says gratefully. “I just need time to feel like we’re past this. I don’t know how long it takes, but I want you back with me. I miss you. I miss you in my bed.”
“Tonight?” I ask, sitting up a bit taller in my highback chair. I look around, trying to spot my sister in case she’s listening in. “I can come over whenever you need me. You just call my name.”
“Yeah, Mack. I think I want you there tonight. There’s just things I can’t do without you.” Her tongue licks the rim of her bottom lip before her teeth move in to bite the corner. My heart races uncontrollably. I’ve been pushing down all of these urges over the last few days, trying to give her space, but a man like me has an appetite that is insatiable, even in times like this.
My mouth dry, I answer slyly, “There’s certainly a few things I could think to do with you, if you let me.” I scoot my chair nearer to her, my arm draping over the back of her chair. She pulls her legs out from under the table so that I can see the tops of her knees. My hand rests on the soft curve, slowly massaging at her muscles. She lets out a small moan, her eyes closing slightly.
I brush my nose up against the place where her hair drapes over her shoulders, pushing the strands aside so I can smell her fresh skin. Her soap has changed, but there’s still that hint of lavender that seems to live on her body. “You smell so amazing,” I say softly, letting myself fall apart near her. My hand travels up higher on that leg, her thighs parting slightly.
She places her forehead against mine, our noses touching. Her breath seems to disappear with each touch of my fingertips to the milky smooth skin between her legs. She places her hand upon my wrist, covering it before attempting to push it back down. “Not here, Mack. Not now…” She looks around nervously at the rest of the room, but there’s not a soul looking at us in the back table. Our seats are partially obscured by the swinging door from the kitchen. No one can see me slip my fingers under the silk elastic fabric of her panties.
Anna’s head falls back against the top of the chair. Her breasts heave in and out nervously, giving me a glimpse of the top of those perky tits. Her hand falls back to her side. She’s giving me permission to go in, and I’m not going to say no to this offer. It’s been days since I’ve felt the softness of her body or the stick moisture from her pussy. It’s almost intoxicating as I press the palm of my hand to the top of her folds, allowing my pointer finger to slip in between.
Gently, tenderly, I rub deep circles clockwise around her clit. The finger inside of her adds pressure. My other arm holds her in place in her chair. I can feel her body wrestle with the sensations I’m creating, begging to be let freed, but I’m not going to be satisfied until she gets off right here in this restaurant chair. She, of all people, needs the sweet relief of a warm hand on her body.
Anna lets out a sound almost unhuman from deep within her throat. Her hands wrap around the side of the chair, her fingers curling around the leather upholstery. Underneath the table, her legs spread even wider. A second finger moves in, filling her space. I add speed. My fingers go full force, digging deep into her cavern. With each burst of movement, drips of her cum stick to the small hairs on my fingers. My hand is near sopping wet with her fluids. It flows with the beating of her heart against her flushed, sweaty skin.
I again dip my head towards her neck, whispering into her ear with the growl, “More? Do you want more, Anna?”
She turns her head towards me, her lips open wide, her eyes sparkling with that life that has been drained from her these past few days. It’s the old Anna, the wild one. “Yes,” she answers tiredly, forcefully.
“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 l
ot 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.
