CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT #2
“Fuck, Reese,” I grit out, fingers digging into her hair. “You’re gonna kill me.”
She hums around me like it’s a challenge, and the vibration has me jerking forward, fighting not to thrust too hard. She takes me deeper, choking slightly, but instead of pulling back she moans like she loves it.
I force my eyes down, needing to see her—on her knees in the dirt, hair a mess, eyes watering, mouth stretched around my cock. It’s the filthiest, most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, and I know I’ll never recover from it.
When she pulls back, lips shining, she licks me slow from base to tip, then meets my gaze with a grin that’s all hunger. “Told you,” she whispers, voice ruined. “I love this.”
Any control I had left disintegrates.
I haul her up, kissing her hard, tasting myself on her tongue. She moans into it, clinging to me, and I press her back against the bike again, cock dragging against her thigh, wet and desperate.
“Reese,” I rasp, forehead pressed to hers, “if we keep going, there’s no coming back.”
She smiles, fierce and unshaken. “Good.”
Clothes scatter across the gravel like casualties.
Her shirt, her jeans, my jacket, my belt—we strip each other down with frantic hands, mouths clashing between every tug of fabric.
By the time I haul her back onto the bike, she’s bare in front of me, nipples tight in the night air, my marks already littering her chest and throat.
Her pussy glistens with my spit and her cum.
“On,” I order, jerking my chin towards the bike, my voice gravel-thick.
She obeys, climbing onto the seat in front of me.
I swing on behind her, caging her in. The metal is still warm under our skin.
I grab her wrists and press her forward until her breasts flatten against the cool curve of the gas tank.
She gasps, arching at the contact, and the sight nearly makes me lose my fucking mind.
“That’s it,” I murmur, lining myself up, dragging the head of my cock through the slick heat between her thighs. “Lean for me. Take me like this.”
When I push inside, it’s slow, deliberate—inch by inch, her tight walls gripping me like a vice. Her cry splits the night, her fingers clawing at the handlebars as she struggles to hold herself steady.
“Fuck,” I groan, sinking deeper. “So tight, Reese. So perfect.”
At first, I move slow. Long, deep thrusts that let us both feel every drag, every stretch.
My hands roam her sides, cupping her breasts, pinching her nipples until she’s writhing against the tank.
Each roll of my hips presses her clit against the cool leather seat, and she’s gasping with every grind, every brush of friction.
But I’ve been patient long enough.
I grab her hips and drag her back hard, slamming her ass into me as I drive deeper.
The slap of skin-on-skin echoes off the rock and trees around us, mingling with her cries.
I set a brutal rhythm, each thrust jarring, shaking the bike beneath us.
My height is the only thing keeping us upright, but fuck seeing her stretching around my cock when she’s spread out on the bike does something unholy to my brain.
Reese clutches at the handlebars, knuckles white, body rocking under the force of what I’m doing to her.
“Yes—god, Cameron—” Her voice breaks on every word.
I shift one hand over her spine, sliding down between her ass cheeks.
My thumb presses against the tight ring of her ass, slick with her arousal still on my fingers.
I work the pressure in slowly at first, circling, teasing, until she gasps and shudders.
Then I push deeper, filling her ass while I pound into her pussy.
The effect is devastating. Her entire body bows, her orgasm tearing through her in violent spasms that milk my cock, squeezing me so tight I can barely hold back.
“Fuck, that’s it—come for me,” I snarl, grinding harder, riding out every clench.
I’m close. Too close. The knot is swelling at the base of my cock, demanding release, and the thought of locking us together makes my vision blur.
“Cameron,” she whimpers, sensing it.
I fold over her back, pressing her down against the tank, my chest slick with sweat against her spine. I grab the handlebars beside her hands, using them as leverage, and drive into her with savage, grinding thrusts. The bike rocks under us, metal groaning, her cries breaking into sobs of pleasure.
My teeth find her shoulder, sinking in hard enough to bruise, not enough to break skin. A warning. A promise. My knot swells against her, pushing at her entrance, and she moans like she wants it, like she’d take it if I gave it.
But I can’t—not yet. Not without the others knowing. Not without her full consent.
So I hold myself there, grinding, biting, forcing the need back even as I spill inside her, hot and endless. My cock jerks, pulsing with every wave, and I feel her clench around me, pulling on me, drawing every drop.
We collapse forward together, tangled, trembling, the night air sharp and cold against our overheated skin. My teeth are still sunk in her shoulder when I growl into her ear, voice raw with the weight of everything I can’t yet give her:
“One day, Reese. One day, I’m not stopping.”
“Promises, promises,” she gasps with a breathy laugh and I chuckle with her, pressing my forehead against the curve of her spine.
For a long moment we just breathe—her chest rising against the tank, my weight draped over her back, both of us shaking with the aftershocks. The night presses close, filled with the faint smell of fuel and sex, the valley lights glittering below like a second sky.
I ease out of her carefully, biting back a groan at the loss, and tug her upright against me. She’s boneless, pliant, her head falling back to my shoulder as I wrap my arms around her middle and hold her there.
“You okay?” I murmur into her hair.
Her laugh is weak, soft, but real. “Better than okay.”
Relief cuts through me, sharp and unexpected. I press a kiss to the crown of her head, closing my eyes against the weight of it all—the promise in her voice, the trust she gave me, the fact that I didn’t break it. Not tonight.
The wind shifts, cool against sweat-damp skin, and I reach for her jeans, passing them into her lap. “We should get dressed before I forget how to be careful,” I mutter, and she hums in agreement, though her fingers fumble with the fabric like she’d rather stay exactly where she is.
By the time we’re both covered again, the bike’s metal has cooled, and the night feels sharper, quieter, like it knows what just happened.
I swing a leg over and start the engine, the roar cutting through the silence.
She climbs on behind me, sliding her arms around my waist, her cheek pressed to my back.
This time, when I twist the throttle, the ride down doesn’t feel like running away. It feels like running towards something I thought I’d have to wait my whole life for.