Chapter 6
Hannah
Which way from here?
The sound of Sarge’s bike is throaty and powerful. So deafening, it can’t possibly be stock piping. I think my mom would approve of this bike; she always reminded me that loud pipes save lives.
While she may be critical of me, she has a healthy respect for a beautiful and powerful bike. Of which, this is definitely both.
Sarge directs the bike toward the main road, and off we go. The cold air rushes through my hair and clothes. I snuggle up to the body between my legs for warmth, breathing his scent. It reminds me of a cabin in the woods, with hints of cedar and pine.
It’s been an hour or so since my last drink, but the alcohol is definitely still in my system. My rational brain knows I should be a little hesitant with the whole being on the back of a stranger’s motorcycle thing. But fortunately, my rational brain is on vacation right now.
Plus, this is only a free ride home, and Sarge gets the alpha male satisfaction of knowing I didn’t leave in a Lyft. Win-win.
The light ahead of us turns red, and Sarge downshifts to a stop. I hate that these lights are on a timer, there isn’t even anyone to stop for.
With my legs wrapped around his waist, there isn’t much to keep my pelvis from colliding with his back.
The random rumbles from the engine vibrate through the bike and into the seat beneath my open legs.
They also vibrate into his body, which I’m attached to.
The combination of the bike’s vibration and the warmth of his body is intoxicating.
I welcome the feeling and roll my hips forward. Leaning into it without grinding too much against Sarge. I close my eyes and focus on the feeling. My toys at home have nothing on these full-body vibrations coursing through my core.
The light changes, and off we go again. I notice that Sarge carefully checks both directions before we enter the intersection.
I’m glad he respects his own safety, because I, too, want to make it home alive. However, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t wish that the light had been red a little longer.
We continue down the familiar city streets, passing all the same buildings I’ve seen every day for almost a year. In this setting, without the presence of the searing desert sun, they look so different. It’s almost as if I’m in a completely different place.
It’s freeing to feel a little displaced. Exciting, even. I get to be someone else for a night. This version stays out late and drinks too much, eventually climbing onto an outlaw's bike and melting into the engine's rumble vibrating through her core.
The next light changes quickly, and Sarge stops again, harder this time. I can’t help but slide, and my body, less than gracefully, smashes against his with the force of the stop. The warmth between my open legs settles against the back of him, and he lets out a sound.
Was that a grunt... or a moan?
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to do that,” I blurt, nervous, unsure if I upset him.
“No. No need to apologize.” His voice is calm. “You can sit as close as you’d like. I’d rather you be comfortable than trying to make me comfortable.”
The light changes, and we continue toward my house.
Oh shit. My house.
We’re nearing my neighborhood, and I wish this ride weren’t coming to an end.
Testing his comment, I inch forward and feel him relax into me. The bike's vibrations and his body between my legs make me shudder. I want more.
I begin to rock my hips a little, hoping he won’t notice between the movements and vibrations of the bike. I try to keep the motions small, but they feel too good. My gaze drifts over his arms, both scarred and unscarred, stretched to the handlebars—strong and masculine in all the right ways.
I imagine one of his hands around my throat, and I let out a moan.
Shit. Was that out loud? The wind is rushing past our ears—hopefully loud enough that it swallows my noise.
I don’t trust myself right now. If he stopped the bike right here, I’d fuck him on it. No question. Rational thinking gone, my ovaries have taken over, and I’m noticeably wetter between my thighs.
“Okay, Butterfly, which way from here?” Sarge asks, rubbing a gentle hand on my thigh.
This ride home is almost over, as we’re already at the entrance of my housing development.
Reluctantly, I sigh. “Left here, and then your second right.”
Sarge nods, returning his hand to the handlebar before turning left.
I can’t help but pout at the loss of contact. Between the euphoria of the ride, my legs locked around him, and his touch on my bare skin, I’ve been ignited from the inside out
“It’ll be the fourth house on the right. Little gold car in the driveway.”
I’ve never not wanted to go home so badly.
How is it that he’s made such an impact so quickly? Despite not being familiar with him, I still feel an intense attraction. I can’t even say he’s what I’d describe as my “type.”
Hell, maybe that’s a good thing, since “my type” seems to be narcissistic assholes with mommy issues. Whatever it is, I feel a pull toward him that can’t be ignored.
He stops in front of my house, yet I sit there on the back of the bike, feeling like a deflated balloon.
A horny, deflated balloon.
I really could’ve ridden with him for hours. But here we are at my house as promised.
He backs the bike up to the curb, and I begrudgingly hop off. Removing the helmet, I hand it back to him. This is just a ride home, Hannah.
Instead of putting his helmet on to leave, he hangs it from the handlebars and drops the kickstand, dismounting in one fluid motion.
A mixture of alarm and excitement swirls in my chest.
He takes two steps toward me, fire in his eyes. My mind starts to race. Is he upset? Was it because I sat too close? He told me it was okay, but maybe I didn’t give him enough room.
He quickly closes the space between us and I freeze. Smokey green eyes consume me as I part my lips in anticipation. I have no idea what he’s about to do, but I’m not about to stop him.
His rough fingers trail from my collarbone to my ear, finally threading into my hair. My eyes flutter shut as I melt into him.
My head is forced back as his hand balls into a fist.
My eyes fly open and I can feel his lips hovering right beside my ear. I lose my balance for a second and fall into him. His sure frame balances me, arm wrapping firmly around my waist to haul me flush against his chest.
“Do you have any idea what you were doing to me?” His voice is low and rough against my ear, but the edge isn’t from anger.
The warmth of his body wraps around mine through the chill of the night air. His scent fills my senses, and I can’t get enough of it.
Eyes boring into mine, his closeness forces all my attention on him. “You can’t move against me like that and expect me not to be affected. You’re so fucking beautiful, someone far too good for a man like me.”
I want to shake my head, talk back, do anything, but I’m frozen in some kind of stupor before him.
His breath tickles my skin, sending a fresh wave of heat through me.
“Rocking and thrusting yourself into my back... what I wouldn’t give to taste every inch of you. Took everything in me not to stop the bike and lift you on top of me so you could keep going.”
His voice is hungry. Possessive.
“Where the fuck have you been hiding?” he whispers into my hair, his grip finally loosening.
My thighs are slick as they rub together, my body completely betraying my mind. He doesn’t pull away, though. His hands move to cradle my face, his fingertips warm and calloused against my cheeks.
“I need you to go be a good girl,” he says through gritted teeth. “Drink water, and get some sleep.”
“Mhmm” is all I manage in my daze.
He hooks a finger under my chin, tilting my face so I’m forced to meet his hungry eyes. He wears a look that says he wants more than to send me inside.
His lips are so close that I can feel the tickle of his beard. His warm breath on my skin contrasts against the chilly night air.
Feeling bold, I lean forward so my lips brush against his. Without hesitation his mouth claims mine in a starved, primal way.
The kiss is deep. Urgent. Possessive. It’s like I’ve given him the go ahead to take what he’s been holding back from. Every nerve throughout my body comes alive and I realize that every kiss before this was just practice for him.
But, to my disappointment, his lips leave mine, breath ragged. “I could taste your lips all night, Butterfly, and if I don’t stop myself now, I won’t be able to stop myself at all.” He shakes his head. “That’s not how I want this to start.”
My chest flutters with a hope I don’t understand.
He presses his forehead to mine. “Come on, beautiful. Go get some rest.”
He takes my hand, leading me to my front door. “Lock the door behind you. I want to hear it before I walk away.”
Too tired to argue, too lost in him to resist, I do as I’m told. My feet carry me in the door, but a small sliver of hope lingers behind with him.
Looking up, my eyes meet his, and a soft smile brushes over his lips. Without even trying, I match his expression, suddenly feeling shy.
“Um, thank you for the ride.” I manage.
He nods. “Needed to know you’d be safe. Goodnight Butterfly.”
“Goodnight.”
I turn the lock and rest my head on the now closed door.
For a moment, I let myself imagine it—his knock on the other side, the chance to let him in. To prove to myself I’m not imagining the pull between us.
But no such luck.
The silence stretches, before being broken by his bike roaring to life. The sound pulses into the house, fierce and fleeting, and then fades into the distance.
And just like that, he’s gone.
I linger against the door, letting the solitude sink in. I ache for what’s missing, but I know this is better. Safer. No expectations. No one to disappoint, and no way to be disappointed.
But damn it, safer doesn’t mean easier. Not when every part of me is still buzzing from his touch, still lit up like he flipped a switch I didn’t know was off. My body feels alive in ways I’ve never experienced, and the pulsing ache between my legs isn’t letting up.