Misha #2
“That makes sense. Was that what it was actually like in the ’90s?”
She shrieks as I reach back to pinch her thigh, dissolving into giggles. I’m only nine years older than her, but she doesn’t know that I know that. More than that, though, I’ve been too distracted by the woman in front of me to dig too much into her past. I know her birthday, though.
“How old do you think I am? For all I know, maybe you were also hanging out in coffee houses in the ’90s.”
“Hmm…you don’t have any gray hair, well, maybe a few, but I’ll have to take a closer look to make sure—”
Fuck yes, you will.
“You definitely haven’t lost any muscle mass.” She squeezes my thick waist for emphasis, and I flex my abs under her touch. “Although that can be misleading since men can get testosterone injections and maintain a decent physique into their sixties—”
“Sixties! Woman—”
“I’d put you around forty, honestly. And I’m thirty, so you do have more experience in the ’90s than I do, regardless. My question was fair!”
“We’ll see if you still think that when we stop,” I pout, but she can make fun of me all day if she keeps laughing.
“I turn forty this year, so I really only experienced the late ’90s as a teen.
To answer the question, in Russia, it was nothing like Friends.
In Thunder Bay…still nothing like the show.
I didn’t have breakfast before work at my friends’ apartment once. ”
“Sounds like you need to invite yourself over to someone’s place for breakfast.”
“That sounds like an offer. And when do I get to ask you questions?”
“Maybe on the ride back. What’s a tiny thing that immediately brightens your mood?”
“You.”
“Okay, Mr. Smooth Talker.”
She pinches my side as I speed out of a turn, distracting her from our game for a moment and relishing the way her thighs tighten around me.
I’m already stretching her wide, but it doesn’t seem to bother her.
A lifetime of her parting her legs to make room for me flashes before my eyes, but she continues her game with a few more nonsense questions before asking another that hits a little close to home.
“Have you ever met someone and immediately felt like they’d matter forever?”
Throttling down at the last red light we’ll see for a while, I flip my visor up and contort myself so she can see how much I mean my answer.
“Twice. Once, a long, long time ago. And again much more recently.”
She didn’t have anything else to say to that, continuing to ask about my favorite foods and childhood memories. I have plenty of opinions about the former, and I hopefully did a decent job making up vague, happy lies about the latter.
“I don’t think anything about you could be boring.”
We’re finally at the destination I had in mind, as far away from city lights as you can get in this part of the state. There isn’t anything remotely resembling a cliff in Florida, necessarily, but once you cross the state line, one of my favorite hidden gems isn’t far.
“Holy shit!”
Well, that’s an even better reaction than I could’ve hoped for.
Abby’s pulled off her helmet, but hasn’t loosened her legs from my waist an inch.
It’s no trouble for me to balance the bike since I’m so tall, and she’s too busy taking in the scenery to even think about getting down.
Far into the horizon, gullies and cliffs dominate the landscape.
Streaked with layers of rusty red, peach, lavender, and white clay, the captivating backdrop is nothing compared to the woman who’s rekindled the dim torches of my soul.
“That’s what I said the first time I saw it, too. The sunsets here are unreal. Otherworldly. Beautiful.”
The thickness in my voice betrays me, and her eyes snap to mine, only to find me staring at her instead of the view.
Kicking out the kickstand, I rise to my full height and pull off my helmet, setting it beside hers on the rocky dirt.
Sitting backward on my bike, I take in her messy braid, skin flushed from the ride, and nose sprayed with freckles that have seen more sun today than they’re used to.
Even after hours of languishing under a helmet, nothing can stop the curls framing her face from springing forward, and I can’t keep myself from tugging on one gently, just to watch it bounce back into place.
“My turn to ask questions now, lesnaya?”
My light touch across her brow is the only point of contact between us, and she shudders a nod as I trace down her delicate cheekbone.
“Have you ever met someone and known, in the deepest, quietest part of yourself that they’d matter?”
If there was any chance for Abby to escape her fate, she obliterates it and seals herself as my own with the pull of her plump bottom lip between her teeth as she rewards me with a small smile.
“Once,” she whispers, and I’m done for.
There’s a moment when I consider waiting, prolonging this torture as I long to taste her. But my legendary patience is nowhere to be found when it comes to her, and I lean in slowly to finally capture my siren’s lips.
She opens for me on a soft gasp, and I barely partake of the opening she gives me before pulling back.
A whine as she chases me, leaning forward as I move away, is the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard, and with a feral grin I recapture her mouth and give her what she wants.
Before long, she shimmies her way down to press against me, the undeniable inferno of her heat while we’re heart to heart is life changing.
Just as I wrap her fiery braid around my wrist and tug, exposing her neck and working my way down, her hips finally meet mine. My unmistakable rock-hard length is perfectly positioned to give her something to grind against.
Instead of another glorious whine of desire, the strangled whimper that escapes makes me pause a second before she’s tumbling back and off the bike, hitting the ground in a heap before popping back up with a fake smile plastered on her face.
“I’m fine! Just fell…sorry about that. Uh, great view. I—”
“Abby. Hey, it’s okay. Don’t be sorry. I’m the one who should be sorry. Clearly, I misread the—”
“No! I mean…no, you didn’t. I just…Can we just enjoy the sunset and then maybe take the short way home? I don’t want to be out too late. But this is really nice. I’m having a great time, I swear.”
Her cadence is forced, and her smile is still too bright to be anything but the facade of someone used to making themselves small. She’s obviously on the verge of tears. For now, I’ll let her have her way. But whatever the fuck just happened will have to be addressed sooner or later.
Hopefully, she’ll tell me on her own. I’d hate to have to dig too deep.