Chapter 24
Chapter
Twenty-Four
FALLON
I fumble with the helmet while he swings his leg over the bike, settling into the seat with practiced ease. The machine looks massive—all chrome and black leather and dangerous power.
"Come here."
My legs move before my brain catches up. Two steps and I'm standing beside him, close enough to feel the heat radiating off him.
He reaches up, takes the helmet from my shaking hands. His fingers brush mine—deliberate, lingering—before he lifts it toward my head.
"Tilt your chin up."
I obey. The helmet is heavier than I expected. His hands work the strap beneath my chin, adjusting, checking. So careful. So gentle. Nothing like Daniel's touch that leaves bruises.
"Too tight?"
I shake my head. I can't speak. Can't breathe with him this close, his dark eyes locked on mine while his fingers linger at my throat.
"Good." He taps the helmet twice. "Now get on."
Getting on a motorcycle turns out to be significantly less graceful than he makes it look. I approach the bike like it might bite me.
"Left foot on the peg," he instructs. "Swing your right leg over."
I try. My slacks aren't exactly designed for this maneuver. I manage something between a hop and a stumble that lands me on the seat behind him, thighs pressed against his hips.
Oh God.
"Feet on the pegs." His voice is steady while my heart tries to jackhammer out of my chest. "And hold on to me."
My hands hover uncertainly at his waist.
"Tighter, Peaches. You're not gonna hurt me."
I slide my arms around him, press my body flush against his back. Feeling every muscle. Every breath.
This is wrong. So wrong. But I can't make myself let go.
I went back and forth for twenty minutes about calling him. Stared at his number in my phone while Daniel's voice echoed in my head—who were you with? Why do you have his number? You're fucking him, aren't you?
But Daniel isn't here. Won't be back until Sunday. And roadside assistance couldn't come for hours. And Kade is the only other person I really know in this city anymore. The only one who might actually help me.
So I called him.
Now I'm sitting on the back of his motorcycle, pressed against him like I have every right to be here.
"What's your address?"
I tell him. He pulls out his phone, punches it into GPS and mounts it on the handlebars.
"Ready?"
"I don't—"
The engine roars to life beneath us.
I yelp—can't help it—the deep, thunderous rumble vibrating through my entire body. Louder than anything I've ever heard. Powerful enough to shake my bones.
"It's okay." His hand covers mine where they're locked around his ribs. Steady. Warm. "I'm gonna start slow. Just hold on to me."
I tighten my grip until my knuckles go white. Until I'm practically trying to climb inside his skin.
He pulls out of the parking spot slow like he promised. Through the lot. The bike moves beneath us, smooth and controlled. But then we reach the road and he accelerates and oh God we're flying—
I duck my head, squeeze my eyes shut, press my face between his shoulder blades.
Bad idea. Worse idea. Because now I can't see anything and my brain fills the void with every terrible possibility. We're going to crash. Going to die. This was the stupidest decision I've ever made.
I force my eyes open. Look down at where my body melds into his. Watch the road blur beneath us. We're not going that fast—probably barely above the speed limit—but it feels like we're hurtling through space.
Then his hand leaves the handlebar. Covers mine again. Squeezes.
The touch draws my attention away from the terror. Grounds me to something solid. Real. I focus on the warmth of his palm, the steady rhythm of his breathing against my chest.
Slowly, degree by degree, my muscles unclench.
By the time we're pulling into my neighborhood, I'm actually looking around. Noticing how the wind feels against my arms. How the world looks different from this angle. How completely alive I feel for the first time in years.
He pulls into my driveway and cuts the engine. The sudden silence is almost as startling as the initial roar.
Neither of us moves.
We sit there, still connected, while I try to remember how to breathe normally. He reaches up, unfastens his helmet. Hangs it from the handlebars. Then turns slightly, helping me with mine.
Our eyes meet. Hold.
His hand drops to my thigh and rests there. Thumb rubbing slow circles through the fabric of my slacks.
We should move. Should separate. Should stop pretending this is anything other than what it is.
Neither of us moves.
"Thank you." My voice comes out rough. "For the car. And the ride."
"Anytime, Peaches."
Heat pools low in my belly. That nickname. Ever since reading his poem, since understanding what it means to him, hearing it makes my entire body respond.
"I'm gonna try to get off this thing."
I swing my leg over with significantly more grace than getting on. Small victories. But my legs feel like jelly—adrenaline and fear and something else entirely turning my muscles to water.
I stumble.
His arm wraps around my waist immediately. Pulling me into him. Letting me fall against his chest while he holds me up.
"Just takes a minute to get grounded," he murmurs against my ear. Low. Intimate.
"Okay."
I'm overwhelmed by everything Kade. By his scent and his strength and the way his body feels pressed against mine. By how safe I feel when I should feel terrified. By how right this feels when I know it's wrong.
"Want to come in for a drink?"
The words escape before I can stop them. Before I can think about what I'm asking. What I'm inviting.
What line I'm about to cross. Again.
"You sure about that?"
Kade's eyes burn with hunger—raw, barely contained. The kind of look that should terrify me. Instead, it sets me on fire.
"Yes." The word comes out like a question. Like I'm asking permission for what I'm about to do.
"You good to stand?"
I nod. "I think so."
But Kade makes my knees weak. Has since the first day he walked into my classroom. I step back anyway, missing his warmth immediately—that solid presence that makes me feel safe instead of trapped.
He swings off the bike in one fluid motion. All lean muscle and dangerous grace.
I lead him to the garage. Press in the code with trembling fingers. The door groans open and he follows me through. My hand reaches back—finds his without thinking. His fingers close around mine. Warm. Rough. Real.
The mudroom is small. Cramped. I push the button to lower the garage door behind us. I shut the interior door and turn.
Kade is right there.
Facing me. Looking down at me like he can barely contain himself. Like a predator who's finally cornered his prey.
I can barely breathe.
"Want something to drink?"
"No." He shakes his head. Stepping closer.
I back up but there's nowhere to go. One step and the door presses against my spine.
Then his hands are on me. Lifting. Pinning me against the wood with my legs wrapped around his waist. His mouth crashes into mine and I'm drowning—gasping—kissing him back like he's oxygen and I've been suffocating for years.
He grinds his hard length against me and I moan into his mouth.
"Fallon." My name tears from his throat. Desperate. Reverent.
"Hmm?"
"I'm going to fuck you now." His voice drops lower. Darker. "I'm going to fuck you until your pussy is strangling my cock while you come for me."
He kisses my neck—hot, open-mouthed—before continuing.
"And then I'm going to fuck you harder."
Another kiss. Closer to my ear this time. Teeth grazing sensitive skin.
"And then—" He sucks my lobe into his mouth.
I'm panting. Can't think. Can't process anything except the heat of his body and the promise in his words.
He pulls back. Forces my eyes to meet his.
"You are not going to run away." Not a question. A command. "You're not going to avoid me again."
His hand cups my jaw. Thumb brushing my bottom lip.
"Okay?"
I run my fingers through his hair at his neck. Feel the tension in his shoulders. The barely leashed control.
"Okay." The whisper is all I can manage.
Then his mouth is on mine again. Devouring. Consuming. Like he wants to crawl inside me and make a home there.
He sets me on my feet. Drops to his knees.
Oh God.
His hands push at my slacks. Dragging them over my hips. Taking my panties with them. All the way to my ankles. He pulls off my heels—one, then the other—strips the fabric away completely.
I'm naked from the waist down. Standing in my own mudroom while my student kneels between my legs.
He moves forward. Inhales deep. Groans like I'm something sacred.
Then he's on me.
"Oh shit—"
The words tear from my throat as his tongue finds me. Licking. Sucking. Like I'm a feast and he's been starving for years.
There's no shame in what he's doing. It's messy. Loud. Wet sounds filling the small space while I fall apart against the door.
He reaches up under my shirt. Cups my breast over my bra. The dual sensation makes me cry out.
I pull my shirt over my head. Drop it somewhere behind him. Wanting him to have easier access. Wanting nothing between us.
His eyes lift to mine. Dark. Hungry. Absolutely wrecked.
"Fucking beautiful."
Then his mouth is on me again and I'm lost. Completely. Totally. Irrevocably lost.
If that wasn't enough, he slides two fingers inside me and I moan as he begins stroking that perfect spot—curling, pressing—making my vision blur.
"Oh God." My hand tangles in his hair. "Right there."
I look down at him. Watch him suck my clit while his fingers work magic inside me. My hand holds him in place even though I don't need to. I don't think anything could rip him away from me right now. Not with the way he's devouring me like I'm salvation.
The pressure builds. Coiling tight. Too much. Too fast.
"I'm gonna come—"
The warning tears from my throat as my body tenses. Then I explode. Seeing stars. My legs shake but he holds me tighter, keeping me upright while he continues pulling every last drop from me until I'm too sensitive to take another second.
I start pulling his hair, trying to get him up.
"Please—"
He groans against my pussy before standing. His mouth glistens. His eyes are pure hunger.
Then he's pulling off his shirt and I forget how to breathe. All lean muscle and ink. Beautiful. Dangerous.
He grabs his wallet from his pocket. Digs inside until he finds a condom. Hands it to me while he starts unbuttoning his pants.
I rip it open with my teeth. Impatient. Needing him inside me.
He frees his hard cock and my mouth waters.
"Put it on."
"Okay." I say but instead of rolling the condom on, I drop to my knees. I want him in my mouth first. I need to taste him. Make him feel what he just did to me.
"Peaches—"
The warning in his voice only spurs me on. I move in. Lick his head before grabbing him at the base and pulling him into my mouth as far as I can until I'm gagging around him.
"Fuck—"
The groan tears from his throat and I do it again. Bobbing my head while swirling my tongue around him. Stroking him with my hand in the same rhythm. Wanting to make him feel as good as he made me feel.
He groans again. Slaps his arm against the door behind me to hold himself up. Then his other hand wraps in my hair and slows me down.
"I don't want to come down your throat today."
The words sound tortured. Like it's killing him to stop me.
Then he's pulling me back off his dick.
"God damn—"
I begin sliding the condom on him with trembling fingers. Rolling it down his length while he watches me with those dark eyes that see everything I'm trying to hide.
He pulls me up. Lifts me. Slides into me before my legs are all the way around his waist.
The stretch. The fullness. The perfect pressure of him filling me completely.
When he's all the way in, he stops. Unhooks my bra. Throws it off to the side.
Then everything happens at once.
His cock thrusting into me—hard, deep, relentless. His hands cup my breasts. Fingers pull on my nipples. His lips find mine and I'm drowning. Consumed. Completely overwhelmed by everything Kade.
He's everywhere. Inside me. Around me. Filling every sense until I can't remember my own name.
The angle hits something deep. Something perfect. Every thrust drives me higher until I'm gasping against his mouth.
"Look at me."
His command forcing my eyes open. Making me meet that dark gaze while he fucks me against the door.
"That's it, Peaches." His voice is rough. Wrecked. "Feel me. Feel what you do to me."
I can't look away. Can't hide. He sees everything—every moment of pleasure, every flash of guilt, every desperate need I've been trying to bury.
The pressure builds again. Faster this time. Sharper.
"Kade—"
"I know." He shifts. Changing the angle. Driving deeper. "Come on my cock. Let me feel you."
His fingers find my clit. Circle. Press. The dual sensation shatters me.
I cry out—can't stop it—the sound echoing through the small space while my body convulses around him. Clenching. Strangling his cock while the pleasure rips through me.
He doesn't stop. Keeps thrusting through my orgasm. Chasing his own release while I shake and gasp and hold on for dear life.
"Fuck—Fallon—"
His rhythm stutters. Loses its steady pace. Then he's groaning against my neck. Hips jerking. Body tensing as he comes inside me.
We stay like that. Pressed together. Breathing hard. His forehead against mine while our hearts hammer against each other.
Reality starts seeping back in. The mudroom. The door pressing into my spine. The wrongness of what we just did.
But I can't regret it. Can't feel anything except satisfied and safe and more alive than I've felt in years.
"You good?"
His voice is soft. Careful. Like he's afraid I'm going to shatter.
I nod. Unable to find words yet.
He kisses me. Gentle this time. Almost tender.
Then he lowers me carefully to my feet.