Motorcycle Man

“No, you don’t.”

“I so totally do.”

“You want me to prove you don’t?”

Uh-oh.

“No,” I answered quickly as his hands tilted my head one way, his head slanted the other, his eyes dropped to my mouth and his face got closer.

“Too late,” he muttered against my lips. I pressed them together. He changed tactics at the last minute, his tongue slid along my lips and my eyes drifted closed as my hands pressed against his shoulders. “Open your mouth for me, baby,” he whispered against my lips.

I shook my head.

“I wanna taste you, open for me, darlin’.” He was still whispering.

I shook my head again.

His thumb moved across my cheek, sweeping across my lips again, his tongue following and all that felt way, way, way too nice.

“Open for me,” he urged gently.

I shook my head again at the same time pressing it back into the pillows.

His hand left my head and moved down my neck, my chest, as I felt his h*ps grind into mine.

Mm, that felt way, way, way too nice too.

Damn.

“Open,” he ordered.

I squeezed my eyes tight.

His hand kept moving down.

“Open, baby.”

I pressed my lips tight.

His fingers found the hem of my camisole, dipped under then the warmth of his hand was moving up my skin.

I squirmed under him.

“Open.”

I turned my face away from his and his hand cupped my breast.

“Open,” he whispered against the sensitive skin of my neck.

“No,” I whispered to the pillow.

His hand at my head moved to curve around my jaw, he pulled my face to his again just as his fingers curled into my bra and yanked the cup down, scraping the nipple, making it go hard. I sucked in breath as my body instinctively melted under his, the inside of my thighs pressing into the sides of his h*ps then his thumb swept across my tightened nipple, my lips parted and I gasped.

“There it is,” he muttered, then his lips crushed mine and his tongue slid into my mouth.

God, he tasted good. I forgot how good. So good, he tasted great.

My thighs tightened against his hips, his finger met his thumb at my nipple and rolled. I felt a rush of heat between my legs. The rush was so strong I moaned into his mouth and arched into his hand as my tongue tangled with his and my arms slid to lock around his shoulders.

“Dad! Tyra!” Tabby shouted. “Someone’s at the door!”

Tack’s fingers stopped rolling, his hand curled warm around my breast and his mouth broke from mine to growl, “No f**kin’ way.”

“Should I answer it?” Tabby called, sounding closer.

“Ye…” my voice broke, I cleared my throat and shouted, “Yeah, honey, go ahead. I’ll be right out.”

“Fuck,” Tack clipped and I opened my eyes to see his were drilling into mine. “We’re not done,” he announced.

“Um… I need to go see who’s at the door.”

His fingers tensed on my breast and he growled, “Yeah, but we’re not done.”

“Um…”

“You’ll see who’s at the door then we’re finishing.”

I bit my lip.

“With me?” he demanded to know.

I stopped biting my lip to mumble, “Uh…”

Suddenly his thumb swept my sensitized nipple, my lips parted and my eyes drifted halfway shut.

“You’re with me,” he murmured, I snapped my eyes all the way open just in time to catch his grin.

Then his fingers were righting my bra, his hand was out of my top, his body was off mine and I was out of my bed and on my feet.

I wobbled slightly since my knees were not ready to take on my weight and Tack’s arm went around my belly. He pulled my back to the front of his body, partly to hold me steady and partly to march me to the door with his face in my neck, against which he ordered, “Be quick gettin’ rid of ‘em.”

“Tack –”

His arm around my belly gave me a squeeze and his teeth lightly nipped the skin at my neck.

My legs wobbled again.

“Quick,” he commanded on a low rumble.

“Okay,” I whispered.

He held me close but reached beyond me and opened my bedroom door.

Chapter Nine

I Can’t Keep Up

I walked connected to Tack with his arm around my middle all the way down the hall. I was freaking out and I didn’t want to like it but there was something about feeling his hard body and the power that naturally emanated from it surrounding me as we moved. He was not someone I felt safe with, at least this was what my mind told me, but my body felt something different.

I’d rather cut off my own arm than ever hurt you.

His words came to me, words I missed when he said them, and they filled my head so full, when we made it out of the hall into the living room, I had to blink my eyes to clear my mind.

Then I stared at Lanie’s fiancé Elliott standing in my living room with Rush and Tabby. The movie was on pause and there was no Lanie in sight.

Weird. Elliott never came over by himself.

“You know this guy?” Tack’s voice rumbled in my ear both audibly and physically.

“Yeah,” I replied. “Hey, Elliott,” I called, smiling at him.

“Hey, uh… Tyra,” Elliott replied, his eyes, for some bizarre reason, darting back and forth repeatedly from Tack to me.

Well, maybe it wasn’t bizarre. Tack was a badass biker who was holding me and Elliott knew me pretty well so he knew I wasn’t seeing a badass biker. He also probably got the lowdown from Lanie about Tack because I was pretty sure she told him everything. So he was probably surprised I was standing there in Tack’s arm with two teenagers in my living room that could not be mistaken as the fruit of anyone else’s loins but Tack’s.

Still, it was bizarre the way he was doing it because it didn’t seem like surprise or shock.

It seemed like fear.

Elliott was not tall, he was five foot seven and Lanie was five foot nine. Elliott had thinning blond hair and a receding hairline. Lanie had thick, lustrous, long dark hair akin to Tabby’s. Elliott had a paunch and a weak chin. Lanie was slim and svelte, a human hanger, no tits or ass, amazing bone structure, beautiful green eyes and she was pure elegance from top-to-toe. Lanie was a human goddess. Elliott was nowhere near a human god.

But Elliott was brilliant, a genius and not one of those socially awkward or arrogant geniuses. He was easy to talk to. He was funny. He was sweet. He was thoughtful. He was generous and he was kind. He never missed Lanie’s birthday and always bought her the perfect present, not always something expensive, but always something she wanted or something meaningful. Ditto with anniversaries. She said he made her laugh. She said he listened when she had a bad day. She said he held her when they slept. And she said she knew beyond any doubt she was the most important thing in the world to him. So Goddess Lanie saw beyond Elliott’s looks and he became the most important thing in the world to her.