Page 19 of Fearless
Reaper hauled me up, still fully sheathed inside me as he kissed me roughly. His arms clasped around my back, holding my chest to his as he swung a leg over the bike to dismount. As he stood, he shifted his grip to under my thighs and bounced me once on his cock. I moaned a whimper into his mouth as I wrapped my arms and shaky legs around him like a tree.
“Grab the blanket,” he growled against my lips. “In the saddle bag.”
“Mmph…” I leaned toward the bike, reaching with one arm and fumbled with the buckle for all of about five seconds.
“Nevermind. Fuck the blanket.” He turned us away from the bike and looked over my shoulder. “There’s some grass here. It looks soft enough.”
In the next moment my back was laid gently onto solid ground, and the only movement came from the man hovering above me. Our bodies never disconnected once as he laid me down, then draped over me to kiss me deeply.
He shoved my top and bra up to my neck to maul the sensitive flesh of my breasts with both hands. I yanked his shirt up to the top of his chest because I was desperate to feel his skin on mine. The ride had been terrifying, exhilarating, and hot as hell, but it didn’t give me a chance to touch him like I wanted to.
Our skin, cooled by the early evening air quickly heated up as our bodies seared together. He fucked me with his whole body, groaning like a beast mad with lust as he slid into me and against me.
Another orgasm began building deep within my core, still feeding off the thrill of the first one. From his ragged breathing, the wild, frenzied way he touched me, and how incredibly rigid he felt inside me, I knew he was close too.
“Come with me,” I breathed against his ear. “Fill me up, you fucking daredevil.”
His moan was animalistic, fingers curling into a fist at the base of my skull. The pull of hair on my scalp intensified the electric jolts shooting through my clit.
“Mariposa,” he rasped, his voice tight as he swelled within me. “You fucking ruined me. I’m yours—“
His words choked off as his warmth spilled, flexing hard inside me as he took me over the edge with him. Our pleasure fed off of each other in an endless feedback loop, shooting off through the atmosphere before we returned on a gentle descent down to earth.
“Can I tell you something?” he murmured softly over our matched, thundering pulses.
“Always.” I slid my hands up his abs and chest to cup the sides of his neck.
“It’s weird, but,” he paused, turning his head to kiss my palm, “I think this was the best day of my life.”
I tried to think of some sarcastic remark about him almost killing us both on his bike, but no words broke through this heady, elated feeling. And I couldn’t bring him down with how blissed out, sexy, and sated he looked.
“I think it was mine, too.”
Eight
JANDRO
"Fuck!" I spat, throwing the ill-fitting spark plugs on the concrete floor."Que chingon estes..."
Naturally, all of the Razor Wire bikes we acquired after the ambush fit different-sized plugs than what the majority of our bikes had. And Gunner just told me the fantastic news that none of his current suppliers had the right ones. Just fucking great. I could tweak some things here and there, but it was just more work that I wasn't expecting to do.
In nearly the past whole week, I spent every waking hour in the shop. The last two nights I didn't even go home, opting to shower and crash here instead. We gutted most of the duplex to make room for all the bike shit, but kept the kitchen, a full bathroom, and one room that functioned as my office, or crash pad, depending on what I needed.
I slept on a futon against the wall. Other than that, the only pieces of furniture in there was a desk and a bookshelf filled with old manuals and random motorcycle books. Crashing here wasn't nearly as inviting as my house, but the lack of comforts didn't bother me. After spending so many nights on the road, sleeping under the stars and in all kinds of sketchy lodgings, crashing where I landed was second nature to me.
Besides, Shadow probably appreciated the alone time at home. Although, for being such a loner, he did seem to appreciate my company as a roommate. He was perfectly capable of living in his own place and had plenty of empty houses to choose from. But whenever I brought it up, he said he was fine to stay as long as I was okay with him being there. Sure, I might've picked living with a beautiful woman over a hulking giant of a man, but I was more than fine sharing a large house with someone else. He promised to feed my chickens, and while he'd never admit it, I had a feeling Shadow enjoyed having animals.
Right then, I would have happily been covered in chicken shit or dealt with another one of Shadow's nightmares than look at another fucking spark plug. Bikes were my passion, but after several days of little sleep or food, I was reaching my fucking limit.
"Piece of pig shit," I grumbled, rising to my feet.
My foot swung forward and kicked the tailpipe of the gutted Razor Wire bike. I was frustrated, exhausted, and not thinking straight. To add insult to injury, the metal dented cleanly where my foot connected. I barked out a defeated laugh. I wasn't even wearing steel toes! These bikes were so shitty and low quality, they weren't even worth parting out. Few things pissed me off more than a so-called MC that took no pride in their steeds and just bought the cheapest shit.
"What did that bike ever do to you?"
I turned in the direction of the playful, feminine voice. Mariposa looked like a mirage standing under the open garage door, an illusion of something too good to be true. Her dark hair was up in a loose bun and her lavender medic scrubs were on, indicating she'd just been working, or was heading that way.
"It existed," I answered her. "That's what it did to me. This piece of shit is a personal insult to any good mechanic."
