CHAPTER TWELVE #2
They start buckling black padded straps around Nigel’s torso with the intensity of someone preparing an astronaut for launch. Crisscrossing chest harnesses. Reinforced shoulder clips. The whole contraption looks like bondage gear meets mountain climbing equipment.
From the side garage door, a third security guy appears. He moves slowly like he’s transporting live explosives. Cradled in his arms?
Miss. Freaking. Muffy.
I nearly swallow my tongue.
She’s combat-ready: camo jacket, leather shoulder pads, pilot goggles, and a rhinestone-studded helmet. The man straps Miss Muffy into the harness on Nigel’s chest.
OH.
MY.
LORD.
IT’S A BABYBJ?RN.
For a dog.
I can’t even.
Nigel harumphs like none of this is batshit bananas. “Miss Muffy is secured. Mount your vehicles. Remain within visual range. And remember—dignity above all.”
I whisper to Bryce, “Are rich people really this bored with reality?”
“Unfortunately, this barely cracks the eccentricity scale.”
“Didn’t know you had such harsh opinions about your own species.”
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Pip.” He winks, sliding on sporty sunglasses that reflect my face as he straddles the ATV. “Hop on. ”
“Oh, honey. You’ll need more than two words to get me to straddle it .”
I slink toward him and twist up my Wet n’ Wild lipstick. “Eyes on me, Moneybags.”
Using his lenses as a mirror, I drag the red across my lips in a smooth, sensual swipe, watching my reflection take shape. I press my lips together with a soft pop, and his grip on the handlebars tightens.
“There. Now I’m ready to wrap my lips around something stiff.”
His jaw ticks.
Point: Brinkman.
I slip on my sunglasses and mount up behind him, arms wrapped around his chest, and give him a little squeeze, just to test his reaction. I hear it—the breath he didn’t mean to let go.
“Think you can give me a ride worth remembering, B? In my experience, rich boys tend to overpromise and underdeliver.”
He doesn’t respond. Instead, he slips his phone into the handlebar mount and connects it to the ATV’s built-in personal sound system—because why wouldn’t billionaire off-road vehicles come with surround sound?
He presses play. The distinctive gallop guitar riff is instantly recognizable.
It’s Barracuda .
Full blast.
No way. Bryce “Buttoned-Up” Sterling listens to hard rock?
But there’s no time to dwell on this new development because he revs the engine. “Hold on tight, Pip!”
Then he punches the gas.
The ATV rockets forward like we’ve been shot from a cannon and my whole body slams backward. My arms squeeze around him for dear life (his evil plan, no doubt) and my cheek presses between his shoulder blades.
The other 4x4s explode into motion around us.
Nigel takes the lead, Miss Muffy bouncing against his chest. Gavin and Fiona peel out to our left, Fiona’s helmet slightly askew as she yells something about her hair.
But the real show is Hana on her own ATV, hair whipping behind her like she’s competing in the X Games, shrieking with joy.
The jungle rushes by in a blur of sun-dappled green, vines dangling like nature’s party streamers.
Each breath is thick with wet earth, gasoline, and the sharp bite of adventure.
I’m screaming with joy as we dodge mud bombs, and the ATV’s power vibrates through my spine while wailing guitar riffs pulse in my ears.
It’s like I’ve been dropped straight into an action movie trailer.
For one dangerous heartbeat, I let myself slip into dreamland. This is our honeymoon. We’re madly in love. Tearing through paradise, drunk on adrenaline and each other. The version of us I’ve always wanted.
But then, the lyrics hit, simple and clear, through my helmet.
Did he pick this song for me?
Am I the wild thing he’s trying to tame?
If that’s his game plan, he’s gonna learn real quick that this barracuda… bites back. And I have more teeth than he’s ready for.
I’ve got my own mission for this ride: reduce the smug billionaire to a puddle of lust. Time to turn up the heat.
I adjust my grip on his torso, sliding my hands seductively down to his waist.
Bryce clears his throat into the headset. “Everything… all right back there? You keep squirming. ”
“Just getting comfortable,” I say innocently.
“Strange. You seemed plenty comfortable last night. That was you, right? Begging me not to stop?”
“I wasn’t begging. I was providing feedback.”
“You melted like chocolate in my hands.”
“Ha! Melted is a strong word. I prefer ‘temporarily satisfied.’”
The ATV rattles over a rocky patch, giving me the perfect excuse to press even closer. My thighs tighten, and he lets a soft groan slip out.
“You know what I think, Pip?”
“Oh please, dazzle me with your insights.”
“I think you haven’t stopped replaying every second of our time together.”
My core clenches traitorously at the memory, but I keep my voice steady. “Doesn’t mean I’m planning an encore performance.”
“You sure? Because every time I bring it up, you press those thighs a little tighter around me.”
Shit. Busted.
Time to knock Mr. Ego down a few pegs. My years of bartending have taught me that in the art of flirting, you want to lead.
“You’re sounding a little breathless there, hotshot. Is that from dodging tree branches or because you can feel my hardened nipples on your back?”
The sound he makes should require a prescription, it’s that addictive.
I move my hips. “These bumps keep jostling me around, and I’d hate for anything to accidentally rub your… equipment. ”
“If you keep running that sassy mouth of yours, I’m going to find us a nice, quiet spot in the woods where I can teach you some manners.”
“Big talk from someone who’d have to grow a pair and admit he wants me first.”
I feel his laugh rumble through his chest. “Pip, you’re going to be the one begging me to pull over before this ride’s finished.”
He kicks the ATV into high gear and shoots forward.
“Try not to grab my ass when we hit that bump,” Bryce says into the headset.
The next thing I know— we’re airborne .
My body flails like I’m in zero gravity.
Then— WHAM!
“What the hell, Bryce?” I shout. “You always drive like this, or are you trying to make me hump you like a jungle koala?”
His laugh is feral. “If the koala moans like you do, I’m all in.”
We zip around Nigel’s ATV like we’re in some billionaire-themed Mario Kart taking first position. Miss Muffy’s ears flap in the wind, her tiny pink tongue hanging out in pure bliss.
I need a photo of this madness, or I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to convince people I didn’t hallucinate the whole thing.
But right now, I’ve got more pressing matters. If I want to crack Mr. Perfect Control and get him to confess he’s secretly craving round two, it’s time to deploy the nuclear option.
I dig my fingers into his abs and let out a soft, breathy, “Mmmm,” right into the mic.
His shoulders go tight.
I moan again, longer, dirtier. Add a soft sigh. A little inhale. Like I’m being touched in all the right places .
The ATV bounces over a root the size of a telephone pole, and I strike like a cobra.
“Oh! Yes! Right there. That’s the spot.”
Every muscle in Bryce’s body locks up like he’s been flash-frozen. “Pip, what are you doing?”
“I’m giving you feedback on your driving technique. This seat really knows how to work a girl’s pressure points.”
I start panting. Little gasps between the moans. Each one a little louder. A little more… persuasive.
“Oh… oh my… yes, just like that…”
“Petra, stop.”
“Stop what? Having a good time?” I moan loudly. “I thought you liked hearing me enjoy myself?”
The ATV suddenly veers left, crashing through a giant wall of tropical leaves before he jerks us back onto the path.
“Son of a—!”
Music to my ears. Mission Scramble Bryce’s Brain Eggs is succeeding.
“Bryce! Can’t you go any faster? These vibrations are getting me off!” I purr with manufactured lust.
I create a symphony of breathy gasps—louder, needier, filthier.
“Cut it out.”
“It’s building… Almost…” I dig my nails into his sides. “Oh fuck, yes—”
“That’s it. I’m pulling over.”
“No!” I gasp dramatically. “Don’t stop! I’m so close. Faster, Bryce! Harder!”
His laugh cuts through my performance like a rock through glass. “Nice try, Pip. You forget—I know what you really sound like when you’re about to come. I’ve got your soundtrack memorized.”
“So you’re some kind of orgasm expert now?”
“When it comes to yours? Absolutely. That fake whimpering is insulting to both of us.”
Time to flip the script.
“What about you, Moneybags? Did my performance get you all worked up?”
My palm presses against the front of his pants and—oh. Hello, monster truck rally.
“Holy shit, you’re hard as a rock. All this from only my voice? I wonder what would happen if I…” I start stroking him over the fabric, feeling him twitch beneath my palm.
“Don’t do that while I’m driving.”
“Why? Afraid you’ll lose control and come in your pants like a good little billionaire?”
He doesn’t answer, so I keep rubbing. “Admit it… You’re thinking about my creamy pussy.”
He jerks the handlebars. “I’m trying to steer.”
“Your cock says otherwise. It’s begging for attention. Just say you want me, and I’ll stop… or say you want me, and I’ll keep going.”
He lets out a low groan, and I rub harder, feeling him pulse beneath my fingers. “Admit you want to be inside me right now.”
“Petra.”
“That’s not an admission.”
I look back over my shoulder. We’re in the lead. The other four-wheelers are tiny specs in the distance. So I unzip his pants and reach inside, wrapping my fingers around his hot, hard length and giving him a firm squeeze.
“Christ!” He swerves, barely missing a gigantic tree trunk trying to take us out.
“Great reflexes, B.” I start stroking faster, feeling him pulse in my grip.
“Not here! Your brother is catching up to us.”
I glance over my shoulder, and sure enough, Gavin and Fiona are gaining ground. “Yup, he is.”
“This is crazy.”