Love is a Four Letter Word. Zara Stoneley
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into this car park because it was quiet. The lull before the 2am outpouring of drunken bodies. And for a brief moment he’d thought about parking up and getting slaughtered before hitching a lift back home. Until he’d heard the voices, and the girl with the cut glass tone had done her best to out-stride her toff of a boyfriend.
For a second he’d thought she was in trouble, which was why, against his natural inclination, he’d stuck his nose in. But she’d handled it, despite the fact that even in the dark he could tell the colour had leached from her face, he could smell the fear, hear the tightness in her words. When you’d got into tight spots like he had, you developed a second sense that told you if you were going to win or lose even before the trouble started.
But after a few seconds of staring at him like he was the man from Mars she’d recovered. Which was as fast a recovery as he’d seen in a long time. Now she was looking at him like he was a prime cut, and it seemed as good a way to burn off his anger as any. He recognised the adrenalin rush, a dance with danger that could send you high before you fell back down. She was ready to ride that wave, ready for the next challenge, and he was just lucky enough to be the one nearest. He wasn’t kidding himself that it was anything more than that. Tomorrow she might wonder what the fuck had got into her, but tonight…
Her cool, elegant fingers were on his chin sending an urgent shiver of a message to his already tingling groin, then she leant in and nipped his lip with sharp teeth. Any more of that and he’d been groaning like a randy teenager. He pulled back, half turned in the direction of his ‘bike and her gaze followed his line of sight.
“Can I have a ride?” She dropped the seduction routine, and her hands, like a switch had been flicked.
“What kind of ride did you have in mind?”
Those dark brown eyes were gleaming. He knew her type, used to getting what they wanted, when they wanted. And right now, if she wanted him it wasn’t a problem. She wanted the fast ride, the rough and tumble. The danger, the explosion. Then she’d walk away. Perfect. For both of them.
She stared at the motorbike, forgot about teasing his lips and headed straight for the machine. “Fast. I want to go fast.” She broke her pace briefly to throw the words over her shoulder and then she was there. Running the ruby red talons over the black paintwork.
He’d not had a pillion rider for a long time. He’d never had one with a dress so short it barely needed hitching up, legs that long and heels that high. So, they weren’t going far, whatever she had in mind. Now wasn’t the time.
“You’re not exactly dressed for a ride.”
She chuckled, and he hadn’t been expecting a sexy low vibration like that.
“It’s my work gear.” She grinned, for the first time, and through the mask of a sexy siren slipped a mischievous girl out to have fun, which made up his mind. He wanted her. Now.
“Some job.”
“I’m front of house at The Veneto.”
Which explained a lot of things, including the groper. Including the confidence. Jake had never been in The Veneto, it was the type of place he’d cross the road to avoid. A top end restaurant, full of the rich and famous, swilling away their fortunes on expensive wine and eating their way through enough carbs and fat to fuel an army of people who actually did something with their lives.
He let his gaze drift over her lazily again. A black sheath dress that fitted where it touched, caressing every curve of her toned body. It was modest at the neck, but dropped low at the back and where it sat high on her thighs it was just crying out to be nudged that inch or two further. There wasn’t much left to the imagination, but enough. Enough to make him desperate to go there. Explore. She didn’t need the extra height of the heels, and although he’d never have called himself a leg man this pair were doing something to his body that they shouldn’t.
And running his hands up from her indecent shoes, all the way up those silk covered calves to the soft, warm flesh he knew he’d find under her skirt was something he wanted to do. Now.
“Sure you don’t want to go back and make up with the toff?”
“You’re funny.” She’d straddled the bike, slid her hands along the tank until she was stretched out on the machine then smiled at him. “People like that bore the pants off me, they haven’t a clue how to live. You going to join me and prove you do?”
“I don’t need to prove anything.” He handed her a helmet. “You know what? You talk too much.”
“I know.” She smiled. “Why don’t you try and make me scream instead?”
“Your wish is my command.” He gave a mock bow, then gunned up the engine before either of them could have second thoughts. The rumble threaded through his body and her thighs tightened around his hips as they took off. He could have sworn he could feel the damp heat between her thighs pressed against him, could feel her breasts pressed against his back as she leaned in and her hands snaked around him, slipped down lower between his thighs.
She was light on the back, moving with him as he headed out of the town and took the narrow road that threaded its way up to the forest and, before he’d even decided where they were going, her hands had slipped lower, touching him with a need that matched his mood. He wasn’t going far, because for what he had in mind he didn’t want to warm the engine up too much, and the way she was messing with his body was already interfering with his mind.
Jake slowed the machine, turned off the road. And she was still when he pulled up, apart from the feather light touch from her fingertips. When he turned she just looked at him, then matched his moves as he undid his helmet and dropped it to the ground. He stepped slowly off the bike, leaving it on the stand, engine ticking over.
Georgie froze astride the ‘bike, feeling vulnerable as he stepped off, not quite sure what was going to happen next, but knowing that the air that had been whistling around her, the heat of him between her legs and the gentle, almost unbearable throb of the engine was turning her into a quivering mass of need.
“Now you, darling, are going in the driving seat, but don’t presume for one moment you’re in control.” His voice was soft against her ear, the warmth of his breath fanning out over her cheek as he lifted her forward onto the seat that was still warm from his body. “Lean forward, hold the handlebars.” She stretched forward, the heat and tremble of the engine teasing nipples that were already hard, tormenting her swollen clit as his hand rested in the small of her back, pressing her closer to the machine. She could feel it already starting, the slow relentless climb of an orgasm, the rolling need radiating out from her centre.
He kept one smouldering hand resting on her for a moment, then turned his full attention back to his leathers, cursing as he fought with them. Then he was back on the bike, behind her. “You can rev it up you know.” There was humour in the dark soft voice. His hands slipped up her thighs, round her hips, under her dress, his fingers tracing along her knicker line, either side of her mound, his thumbs circling with a pressure that told her he wasn’t going to mess. One hand slipped between her legs, traced along her slit until he found her clit and she groaned as he touched her. Whimpered as he increased the pressure, as one finger slipped inside her. “You really do want it don’t you?” He lifted her slightly from the seat. “Hold on tight, darling.”
She was holding her breath with need, but when he sank inside her she still screamed. Screamed as the weight of his body against her pressed her throbbing clit into the shudder of the bike, screamed as she came with urgent pulses. “Oh. My. God.” She could barely get the words out.
He waited, held still as she shuddered around him and then as her body subsided he started. Full long strokes that filled her. Georgie clung onto the handlebars, trying desperately to control the slide of her body against the bike, to control the friction as he gripped her hips with firm fingers and slammed into her. She lifted her head, stared unseeing at the trees that surrounded them, and the animal sounds had to be her as she growled and cursed, writhed against him, as her body fought the vibrations, willed the orgasm to build higher, higher.