3. Dario #2
Blood still drips from my nose when I hold my forearm out to her, letting her see the teeth marks that fill with blood every time I swipe a hand over it.
“You told me once to never hold back,” she reminds me. “Just be happy I didn’t kick your dick, because you made it a really visible target, and I could’ve easily caused some serious damage.”
I’ve seen Mia kick, the girl has strength, and there’s a lot of force behind her brutal footwork, and the thought of all that rage being directed at my genitals has nausea rising up from the pit of my stomach.
She must see it written all over my face, because she laughs and says, “You’re welcome.”
“I’m not going to thank you when you bit me like a feral animal,” I tell her. “The human mouth is filthy, Mia.”
“Well, I didn’t force you to kiss me, did I?”
I glare at her, torn between wanting to force her to her knees while I teach her a lesson with my cock and wanting to thread my fingers through her hair and bring her into the safety of my arms while I claim that pouty mouth in a hungry kiss like I’ve been dying to for months.
In the end, I don’t do either. I stay where I’m at, neither one of us closing the distance.
“Come on,” she finally says, waving me over to the corner. I have a first-aid kit stashed on a shelf, because we’ve needed it on more than one occasion, and she wastes no time digging around for the antiseptic spray and bandages. She hands me some gauze. “Your nose is still bleeding.”
I take it without a word and let her push me down into the chair.
Swiping the blood from my upper lip, I ignore the slight trickle that’s still coming out and watch as she cleans the new wound she’s given me.
I eye the teeth marks, a perfect print of her mouth now etched onto my skin.
It’s fucking up the dagger tattoo I have.
Her teeth go right through the fucking blade.
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were trying to mark me, streghetta . That’s two scars I’ll be carrying on my body because of you.”
She starts slathering on antibiotic cream while she says, “If I wanted to mark you, Dario, I’d just use my knife to carve my name into your skin.” She puts the last bit of cream on one of her molar prints. “This is nothing but a playful love bite.”
I grin before I can stop it, and I see her returning smile before she hides it by ducking her head and grabbing more gauze. She wraps my arm up, just like how I taught her to, and then starts putting everything away.
“Don’t worry. I don’t have rabies,” she tells me.
“You sure about that? You seemed pretty fucking rabid out there to me.”
She lets her eyes run over me again in a slow, appreciative perusal. “You seemed a little feral yourself.”
“That won’t happen again,” I say. “I’m sorry if it made you uncomfortable.” Not sure what else to say, I add, “It’s been a long couple of weeks,” because that seems like a likely excuse.
Throwing the first-aid kit back on the shelf a little harder than necessary, she turns and says, “Yeah, well, sorry you haven’t fucked anyone in fourteen days. Must be a real bitch.”
I don’t bother correcting her. She doesn’t need to know that I haven’t touched another woman since she turned eighteen.
It sounds pathetic enough when I admit it to myself, because admitting it makes me think about why exactly I’ve been celibate.
The answer is standing right in front of me, complete with an adorably pissed-off face.
“We’re done for the night,” I tell her. “Come on, I’ll give you a ride home.”
“I can just call Feliks,” she starts to say, but I cut her off.
“I said I’ll take you.” I don’t wait for a response.
I turn my back on her and head to my room so I can change clothes and grab my boots.
Before I leave, I quickly check my face in the bathroom mirror and then splash some water on it so I don’t look like a guy who just got his ass kicked by a pint-sized girl.
She’s waiting for me by the front door, looking way too smug for my liking.
“What are you hiding from me?” I ask, grabbing my leather jacket and holding it out to her.
“I’m not hiding anything,” she mutters while she slides her arms in and then looks down at herself. “This looks like a goddamn dress, Dario. I don’t need this.”
She starts to take it off, but I grab her arm to stop her. “It’s safer if you wear it,” I say, not bothering to add that I like seeing her in it. I like the way it completely dwarfs her body, ensuring she’s completely cocooned in my scent.
“Whatever you say, but if you’re that shitty at handling your bike, maybe I should just call Sasha to come get me.”
I refuse to let her get to me, so I ignore the jab to my pride and open the door to follow her out.
My motorcycle is a beast of a machine, and this will be my first time letting a woman ride on the back of it.
I’ve brought Mia home before, but I’ve always used my Porsche to do it.
Is it pathetic to use my bike as an excuse to feel her body pressed against mine? Maybe, but I’m doing it anyway.
Grabbing an extra helmet from the garage, I hold it out to her and then pull on my own.
She buckles hers without a problem and then waits for me to get on.
I swear her shoulders drop a bit when she eyes the small triangle of a seat that she’ll be parking her ass on, but then she’s squaring them off again and climbing onto the back.
Once her feet are resting on the pegs, she tries to avoid leaning into me, but I know it won’t last for long.
This bike doesn’t fuck around, and the way her seat is angled is going to require her to wrap her arms around me or risk falling off.
When I start it, revving the engine and grinning at the sound of it, I smile when I feel her already starting to wiggle around.
She keeps her hand down, trying to grip the seat and avoid touching me, but as soon as I clear the security gate that surrounds my property and pick up speed, she quickly swallows her pride and wraps her arms around me in a tight grip that presses her chest to my back.
The leather jacket keeps me from feeling her tits, but it doesn’t matter, because just the feel of her flush against me, the heat from her body warming mine, it’s enough to wake my cock back up and leave me grinning beneath my helmet.
I take the long way to her place, wanting to draw this out for as long as I can.
Refusing to take it easy on her, I speed through traffic, skillfully weaving around cars and trucks, and when I’m forced to stop at a red light, I feel her squirm even more.
She doesn’t try to move her arms, but I feel her hips move as the strong engine makes the seat vibrate.
I turn my head, unable to see her, but wanting her to know that I’m aware of what she’s doing. Her response is to squeeze me tighter as I feel her hips rock again.
Is she fucking getting off right now?
Before the light turns green, I reach back and give her thigh a warning squeeze, but all it does is make her dig her nails into my stomach as her thighs cinch even tighter around me.
Twisting the throttle, I gun it through the intersection, causing every head to snap in our direction.
This bike doesn’t slink in unannounced; it storms the gate like a fucking battering ram, leaving everyone stunned in its wake.
It doesn’t do subtle, and Mia grinding her pussy against the seat while she clings to me like she’ll never be able to get close enough isn’t helping.
I’m pretty sure we’re going to end up on the internet somewhere, but there’s not much I can do about that except speed up and hope they can’t get to their phones in time.
Right before I hit the underground parking garage beneath her parents’ apartment building, I feel her whole body tense before she gives a soft shudder.
Did she just fucking come on the back of my bike?
Furious, I speed into the garage, coming to a rough stop in front of the private elevator her family uses. Yanking my helmet off, I turn my head and growl, “What the fuck just happened?”
She takes her time, swinging her leg over before pulling her helmet off, and as soon as I see her grin, I lose it.
“Mia, don’t fuck with me. Did you just do what I think you did?”
She shrugs and props the helmet on her hip. “That depends. What do you think I just did?”
I grit my teeth and force myself to take a breath. She’s trying to make me doubt what I just felt, but I’m not about to back down. “I know what it feels like when a woman comes,” I tell her. “And I think you just had a fucking orgasm on the back of my bike.”
She raises a brow. “Did I? Or is your ego getting a tad too big and you’re starting to imagine things? I mean, I’m sure you’re good, Dario, but I doubt you’re that good.”
The laugh I give isn’t even close to being humorous. It’s harsh and slightly unhinged and a clear sign that I’m about to lose my patience with her. “That’s what you say, streghetta , but you’re the one with a flushed face, glassy eyes, and a pussy that I’m guessing is still throbbing with need.”
She straightens a bit at that, her anger temporarily overriding everything else. “Well, like you said, it’s been a long couple of weeks. I guess it’s time I did something about that.”
“Like what?” I ask, narrowing my eyes at her. “Be very careful how you answer that question,” I warn.
“It’s not your problem or your business, so don’t worry about it.”
I stare at her, feeling nothing but rage, a possessive jealousy that I can do fuck-all about, and an ache running up my arm from where she’d bitten me.
The thought of her going out and using some random guy to get rid of her sexual frustration doesn’t sit well with me.
I can tell she’s about to walk away, but before she does, she smiles and says, “I’m sorry I came on the back of your motorcycle, Dario. ”
“That might be more believable if you didn’t laugh while you said it.”