Chapter 15 Camile
CAMILE
I cling to Jack as he navigates the big bike across the winding, mountainous roads back to the college.
Though I’m pissed at him and know I’m supposed to be keeping my distance, I can’t help feeling as though I’ve found a little piece of heaven.
I wish I could stay here forever.
The bike’s engine roars between my thighs, and, where I kept my distance a little when I was on the bike with Rook, with Jack I’ve found my arms wrapped tight around his waist and my face pressed against the solid plane of his back.
In my half helmet, I can feel every muscle move and tense as he skillfully commands the direction of the bike, and I desperately want to rid him of the clothing between us.
I’m telling myself that I need to press this close for safety as I tuck myself against him, my chest to his big back.
Pressing just that bit too tight, I wonder if he likes the closeness, too.
.. I’m doing everything I can to imprint this moment to my memory so I can recall it when I’m back at college and loneliness surrounds me once more.
The sky is the perfect cerulean blue, and sunlight bathes us along with the surrounding trees and road.
It warms my skin, and that, along with the wind caressing me, makes me want this moment to last forever.
If only time could stretch to prolong this ride along a smooth section of road, with nothing but me and Jack, and such a powerful machine under us.
It’s nothing like the slow, bumpy ride over the fields I took with Rook.
The speed alone makes me want to whoop with the sheer exhilarated joy of it. It is almost worth being shot at.
If I’d had the choice to be shot at by Ledger and experience all of this, or none of it happen, which would I choose? The fact that I can’t categorically state that I’d choose not to get shot is terrifying.
I guess I’m starting to understand why these men dedicate their lives to their bikes and the open road.
I wonder what it would be like to be on the back of a bike with Ace driving.
Would he feel as solid and dependable as Jack, or would he be a little wilder, and little more likely to take risks?
Then, for some unknown reason, my mind flicks to Ghost, and a shiver of something I can’t quite interpret goes through me.
I remember how he’d held my chin between his fingers and forced me to look at him, how he’d called me a brat, and had been completely unruffled when he’d approached Rook with those other guys.
He’d been outnumbered, but he hadn’t so much as flinched.
He’s the only person I’ve met in the MC who speaks to Jack as though he’s an equal, instead of bowing down to him.
Okay, and maybe he’s kind of attractive, with that dark hair, and his intense hazel eyes.
And he’s so tall—taller even than Jack. He must be what, six-four, at least. He makes me feel like he could pick me up and put me in his pocket and just carry me off.
The vibration of the bike between my thighs intensifies, and I wriggle closer to Jack.
Going back to pondering the other men, I shake my head at myself.
No, I need to stop this. For one, Ghost is a complete asshole, and even if he’s good looking, it doesn’t mean I’m attracted to him.
It’s like seeing a pretty painting and appreciating it for what it is.
It doesn’t mean I’m wondering what he looks like naked, or how he’d kiss.
I’m most certainly not wondering if I’ll be able to climax just by sitting on the back of this bike, with my body flush against such a gorgeous man, inhaling his scent.
I squirm against the seat. Fuck, my panties are wet now.
That’ll teach me. I squirm again, and the seam of my jeans presses against my clit.
It only takes a subtle roll of my hips for pleasure to coarse through my body, and I take a small, shuddery breath.
Ooh, that felt good. I do it again and again, building myself higher.
Jack continues to drive, completely unaware of what the little pervert nymphomaniac is up to literally right behind his back.
This is bad. I should stop.
My nipples are hard buds, and I only have a thin top on.
I graze them against the back of Jack’s leather cut, and the friction makes my eyes roll.
I picture there not being any material between us and how his muscles and smooth skin would feel directly against my tits.
The thought sends more heat flooding between my thighs, a tingling tightness twisting into a fist at my core.
I whimper, but the roar of the bike drowns out the sound.
Stop, stop, stop, I tell myself. But my body has a mind of its own.
Now I’ve started, all I can think about is how I want to reach my peak.
I’m like a horny teenager grinding against their date, except my ‘date’ has no idea what I’m doing.
He’s focused on the road and doesn’t know he has a young woman dry humping both him and the seat of his bike.
God, he’d be so mad, and this is so wrong of me, but the scent of him fills my senses.
I want to strip off my clothes and bathe in him.
I want him to consume me, and he barely knows I’m alive.
My pussy squeezes and pulses, and my clit throbs. The vibrations of the bike make me think of how housewives supposedly used to get themselves off against the spinning of a washing machine. Is this how they felt?
I want to place my lips to Jack’s nape, to wrap my thighs around his waist. I want him to realize what I’m doing and stop the bike and spin around so he’s facing me.
Then he’ll strip me of my clothes, pull out his big, hard cock, and drag me onto his lap to straddle him.
How easily would he penetrate me? I’m soaking wet, slippery and swollen, but I bet his dick is as big as the rest of him.
Would it hurt? He’d be my first time, and fuck, I want that more than anything.
I’m so close, I’m going to come. The realization hits me with a heady mix of extreme mortification and exhilaration at the entire scenario.
Either way, I’m unable to stop as I grind a little more, my breathing growing ragged and heat filling my cheeks.
Oh God oh God oh God… My skin lights up with pleasure, and my climax hits, sending my toes curling.
I clamp my lips shut, knowing that I must hold in my usual noises this time, and squeeze my eyes shut as every nerve ending zings with eye-rolling bliss.
I press my pussy so hard against the bike it hurts a little.
“Everything okay back there?” Jack calls over his shoulder. “Am I going too fast?”
I must have tightened my arms around his waist and pressed against him too hard. The endorphin buzz from my orgasm quickly drains away, and guilt and shame replace it.
“No, it’s fine,” I choke out.
My face burns, and I feel horrible for what I’ve just done.
I used him against his will. I’m a terrible person.
When we stop, will he be able to tell what I’ve done?
Will I have left a wet patch on the seat?
Maybe he’ll be able to smell me on the air or see it in the red blotches on my cheeks and chest.
“Nearly there,” he calls.
I nod against his back, still feeling terrible. This is my friend’s dad. What the hell is wrong with me? She would never forgive me if she knew. No, there’s no way she’ll ever find out. No one will ever find out. This is a dirty little secret I plan to take to the grave.
Finally, the gated security of Verona Falls University comes into view.
The guards notice the bike coming, and their body language changes.
Jack obviously didn’t alert anyone to our arrival, but they’ll recognize me.
Hell, they might even recognize Jack by now, since he’s been here a number of times as well.
We stop at the gates, and the bike idles.
The guards approach, demonstrating that they’re armed, and I remove my half helmet, and shake out my hair.
Jack speaks first. “This is Camile Montez. She’s a student here, and I’m returning her.”
I frown at the turn of phrase. Returning me, like I’m a pair of shoes he decided didn’t fit.
“Have you got your student ID?” one of the guards asks me.
I raise an eyebrow. “Seriously? You don’t recognize me?”
God, I really do vanish into the background. I’ve only been a student here for almost three years. It takes all my self-control not to roll my eyes. Instead, I climb off the bike and rummage through my purse to find my ID. As I do so, my cell phone buzzes with an incoming message.
Frowning, I fish it out of my purse. My stomach flips. There are several missed calls, and the number belongs to my brother, Leonardo. These days, he never calls me just to chat, so it must be something serious. I hadn’t heard the phone over the bike.
I swipe the message to open it, and my heart sinks further.
I put my hand to my mouth and try to stifle the inhuman sound that bursts out of me. My legs buckle, and I stagger backward as I try to take it all in. Dios me ayude. God help me.
What the hell has happened to my home?