Chapter 2 #2
I pulled down the dark visor of the helmet so he couldn’t see my blush. His cocky grin rubbed salt in the wound.
He turned his back to me and tapped his shoulder blade. “Motorbike.”
“What?”
He crouched. “Motorbike. Backpack.”
I wrapped my arms around his neck and hoisted myself up to wrap my legs around his hips. He held my hands in place before climbing us both onto the bike.
Without me flashing anyone.
I shuffled to make sure the skirt of my dress was firmly under my ass, but he leaned back, grabbing me and shuffling me forward so my front pressed against him.
“Hold hard.”
“Where are we—”
I was cut off by the violent growl of the engine, which took my voice. The vibration beneath me, his dark, musky scent on my skin, honed all of my senses to him.
I wrapped my arms around his middle, pressing my face into his back, expecting the absolute worst.
He’d ride erratically, showing off his speed on the curves and revving to bring the whole world’s attention to us.
I prepared for the onslaught of wind, using him as my shield against the breeze he’d relish in and would freeze my legs to the bike.
He didn’t drive fast. He was steady, smooth. Like he was one with the bike. The same way Dad used to take me on the back.
He rode like someone who knew speed had a cost.
My arms didn’t loosen around him as my trust grew. At the lights, he squeezed my bare thigh as if to reassure me. He didn’t react to any of my movements. He was confident in every turn.
We drove out of the town, past the traffic and lights, into the hills and countryside. The hum of the bike beneath us added to the calm, serene picture of beauty around us, the sun starting to set, casting the sky in a hue of orange and yellow.
He could be taking me anywhere. We’d said a drink.
This wasn’t a drink.
And I hadn’t shared my location with Everly.
She would spite me for it.
But each of those thoughts passed me as quickly as the villas we flew by, without a hint of that usual anxiety that pulsed in my chest whenever I considered a date.
This was simply research for university.
For my placement.
The woodsy scent of his leather jacket must have had calming effects, like I was being unknotted from the inside. The rush of being on my bike always had a similar effect.
We slowed as we reached a high point, back to the coast, and what seemed like a cliff edge.
He stopped between two trees, tapped on his shoulders again for me to hold on, and alighted us from his vehicle. He pulled off his helmet, lifted my visor, and unclasped my helmet strap before pulling it off my head.
Patting my crazed helmet-hair, he smiled and opened his mouth to talk.
He shut it.
His eyes narrowed, deep in thought, before he went again and stopped.
Zoltán Farkas was speechless. In English, anyway.
“The words you’re looking for are ‘I’m so sorry I ruined your lovely hair when I said we were going for a drink and forgot to disclose a ride.’”
“No ruin.”
Oh, this was not the seduction routine I had been betting on. He didn’t pause to see me swallow; instead, he went to the tail box at the back of the bike and pulled out a picnic blanket.
Then a bottle of champagne.
He laid it out and told me to sit before popping the cork. Then he retrieved two plastic champagne flutes.
Okay. Boy had game.
HR would love this.
To not watch his arms flex as he poured the drinks, I took off my strappy heels and did as I was told, watching the sun set along the horizon.
“How did you find this place?”
He shrugged and passed me one of the drinks.
When I went to pull down the zipper of his jacket to remove it, he lifted a hand to stop me. “No. Me.”
The stiffness of the worn leather meant his hands were inches from my body, but he still felt so close as he pulled it down excruciatingly slow. I held my breath, watching his greedy expression as he revealed more and more of my body.
“Is this… is this part of the seduction?”
His eyes flashed up to mine, a smirk on his face. “You want?”
I lifted a shoulder, taking a nonchalant sip of my champagne. “I’m curious.”
Dismissing the jacket to the side, he sat beside me, his hand behind mine on the blanket. “My message.”
“You sent two.”
“Lots.”
“Am I supposed to be impressed by two?”
“Yes.”
I laughed and leaned back further, my fingers touching his. “I’m here, aren’t I?”
He nodded. “Why?”
Seeing as I had planned for my bribe to be a bluff, that was a good question. To have a good time? To prove I could move on? To let him crack and have some form of relationship with Hungarian? Or to actually research more about his language skills?
Or, and I let the thought form slowly, was it to have meaningless, outrageous sex with a racer as I’d always fantasised?
In the stillness, he squeezed my fingers.
“To rile you up like you did to me.”
“Mmmm.” There was a twinkle in his eye, and he placed his other hand on my thigh like he had on the bike. “Done.”
“Guess I can go home then? Mission accomplished?”
“You want?”
No.
I rolled to face him, head propped up on my elbow, but his hand slipped to my inner thigh, where he stroked his thumb.
“And what do you want, Zoltán?”
He looked past me to the sunset.
“You’re going to need to speak, Zoltán.”
“You not want.”
“I do.”
He turned, giving me his full attention, his fingertips dragging higher. “I want fuck you. Here. Bike. Mine.”
My breath hitched. “You could have said that an hour ago.”
He pointed at me. “Behave.”
Well, that was gone.
He pointed between him and me. “Also—duh.”
I shook my head with a whimsical, taunting sigh. “It’s not duh, Zoltán. You might just not be as charming as you think. It’s definitely not your words that seduce all the women— just your looks, and they aren’t everything.”
His eyes flashed, and he said robotically, the words merging as if he’d learned the phrase. “Give me my language.”
“You speak in Hungarian, and I’ll ride your bike home alone.”
“Ride me.”
Lord, give me strength. I closed my eyes, biting down hard on my lip, unsure if I would whimper or laugh.
His voice so close made me jolt, his fingers sinking into my thighs to still me. “You ride me… You cry pretty. Loud. Legs shake.”
Fuck.
My breath stuttered as the air turned thick between us.
His nose skimmed my throat as his hands gripped my thighs and spread them open before sliding to my underwear.
He breathed against the shell of my ear, and my eyes rolled back as he traced the edge of my panties, casting shivers down my spine.
“No, behave,” he muttered, and my chest heaved. His fingers pushed aside the lace and skidded over my folds, his deep moan shaking me to my core. “Wet.”
I shuffled closer to him, and his fingers picked up, ghosting closer and closer to my clit with each stroke.
“Zoltán,” I gasped.
He kissed under my ear, my jaw, down my throat to my collarbone. So controlled and calm.
Whereas I was bucking against his hand, trying to angle myself for him to brush against where I pulsed.
“You want me,” he said, the smile in his voice stronger than his accent.
I nodded, head thrown back onto his arm.
He tsked. “Say.”
“I want…” But he brushed his thumb against my clit, and words were gone.
“Say. Hungarian.”
I tried to recall the phrase through my swallowed breaths, my pants, my flickering eyelids, but all that mattered was his touch, the teasing, the torment. “Ak—akarlak.”
His eyes locked on mine. “My name.”
“Zoltán—”
He thrust two fingers into me with no warning. My back arched, my throat made the most guttural, raspy noise I was almost embarrassed. Maybe I would be in the morning, but right now—right now, fuck.
“Zolt,” I cried, admiring his beautiful grin through my faded vision, my eyes had been closed so tightly.
He watched his fingers work me into a fast frenzy, and when I tightened around him, his hooded eyes landed on mine. He went to speak, but stopped himself, nostrils flaring before somehow fingering me harder and quicker.
“Give me my language. You come. Give.”
Somehow, I managed to pant, “No.”
An angry, harsh breath sounded in my ear as he leaned over my trembling body. “You no stop Hungarian. You want.”
He didn’t stop his finger-fucking, his thumb brushing over my clit again, the coiling of my stomach tightening and tightening and—
But this was a power play.
“T—try me.”
He groaned and kissed down my collarbone again, dragged down the neckline of my dress with his teeth, and circled my nipple with his tongue.
“Fuck,” I cried out, knowing I was so close, my body pulsing with flames.
He pulled away, and horror rocked through me. I reached for him, but he shook his head at me.
“Beg. Say please.”
I tried to rub myself against him like the needy whore I was. He was right: I needed him too much.
“Please. Please. Zolt.” My voice was so throaty I didn’t recognise it. I reached for the huge bulge in his jeans and nearly exhaled with relief to feel how hard he was. Over me. But as I rubbed against him, that exhale stuttered. Oh fuck. He was huge.
That was a monster.
That I wanted to ride and make me cry pretty.
“Please fuck me. I want your cock.”
My pants were so loud, I barely heard him unzip his trousers, but I felt him brush my hand gently away.
And then his cock slid against my wet cunt and turned me feral. “Kérlek.” Please.
“You want? Give me my language.”
Thank god he was sounding as desperate as me.
The need in his midnight eyes mirrored my own. We burned with the world, the sky behind him a deep orange in the haze of lust.
There was no point in trying to keep this weakening grasp on any pretence that I had control.
I wanted his power — his cum — unleashed all over me.
“Condom. In my bag.”
He continued to thrust against me, but the cockiest smirk accompanied a raised brow. “You say no seduce.”
I chucked my bag at him and covered my face with a forearm, trying to hide my mortification.
He chuckled, and seconds later, my arm was wrenched above my head, the other soon falling on top of it and held together by one hand around my wrists.
I looked down over the bunching of my dress to see his thick, veiny cock thrusting against me, and I shuddered.
“Big,” he said. “Fill you.”
He pressed his balls against my pussy so I could see the full extent of just how much he would fill me up, and I winced.
“Lots. Everything.”
“Everything.”
When he spoke his language again, I melted into a puddle, eyes rolling back. “Don’t be embarrassed, kis szemtelen. We both want this.”
‘Want’ was cute and a little degrading.
I fucking needed him. Inside of me. An hour ago. I would combust if he didn’t hurry and use me, making it hurt in the best way.
“Fuck me, Zoltán. Now. Rough.”
He pulled me to stand — or, more like, drag me to the bike. My brain was so foggy, my body so heavy with an aching need, I wasn’t in control of how he hauled me to the bike, leaning me over it.
“I need you.”
He swore and sank into me, hard and deep. And then he kept going. Every inch stretched me further and further until I could barely breathe. He gave me a moment each time to try and accommodate his size and whispered, “Ok? More?”
I nodded, over and over.
And then he bucked inside of me and grabbed my chin to swallow my choked gasps with his mouth.
He was brutal, hard, rough, just like I’d begged. His hands dug into me, held me against the bike so tightly, I knew I’d bruise.
I’d wear them like a badge of honour. Taunt him with them.
He panted against my neck, willingly speaking English, which wound me even tighter. “You scream. No quiet. Let go.”
The bike creaked beneath us as he filled me with delicious pain, littered me with sweet pecks, and clawed at me with a desperate urgency that claimed every inch of my needy body.
“Fuck—fuck!”
“Good girl,” he grunted, and his words tumbled out, switching languages almost word by word. “Milk my cock, tighten around me — yes, fuck — such pretty sounds, such a pretty face — Zsófia.”
I shattered around him, meeting each of his thrusts, my body quaking as he held me together, grunting as he came.
We stayed tangled, breathless as he pressed kisses into my neck, directly over my racing pulse.
I’d never had sex like it. Not even close.
And I wanted it again. And again.
He turned me to face him, and my vision cleared for the first time since he’d touched my thigh on the blanket.
The sky had turned navy, stars starting to twinkle above us in the clear night.
He cradled my face in his hands as I gathered my breath.
“You’re coming home with me.”
I nodded in his hold, and he kissed my forehead.