Page 19 of Dare You to Run
She’s a Ducati Superleggera V4 and my ultimate pride and joy. Even above my company. I used to dream of the day I could afford a bike like this and vowed to myself that I’d make it happen, one way or another.
I leave Dagen to stare at my beauty while I walk over to the storage closet and grab my stuff along with a jacket and helmet that I think will fit her. I toe off my sneakers and step into my riding boots, then swagger over to where she stands, ghosting her fingers over my bike much like she did my car.
As if it weren’t enough for this woman to be a fucking siren, she just has to have a love of cars and now it seems bikes. It’s like God decided to throw me a big middle finger and drop this perfect girl in my lap, knowing I can’t have her.
“Here,” I tell her, sticking out my hand with the jacket and helmet. “Zip up the jacket to the neck and snap the collar.”
She cautiously takes it from me and slides her arms through it. My eyes follow the zipper, watching each tooth catch one by one. Her delicate fingers snap the button snuggly on her throat and I wish it were my hand wrapped around it.
She tugs at the hem of the jacket, adjusting it and making sure it’s in place, then lifts her head to look at me. The moment grows quiet and intense as our eyes stay locked, and I take another step closer to her. Slowly, I raise my hands and slip the helmet over her head, and I’m disappointed when I lose the ability to see her beautiful greens.
I tug on it until I see it’s secure, then fasten the chin strap. The carbon helmet is in a fierce shade of crimson red and has a red iridescent visor. It’s a sexy helmet and it’s perfect for her. The black jacket with red accents matches perfectly, and hugs her full breasts.
I flip open the visor and her pupils shrink from the intrusion of the light. “Feel okay?” I ask her.
“Yeah.” Her breath is sultry and breathy and it sends a tingle down my spine.
I nudge my head in the direction of my bike and she follows as I pull my balaclava and helmet on.
I push it out of the garage then set it on the kickstand once more. I steady the bike and throw my leg over, sitting comfortably. Once I’m situated, I look over my shoulder and hold my hand out to help her. She pushes my hand out of the way and climbs on like an expert, using the pegs to steady herself.
Flipping my own visor, I tell her, “This is going to be different than riding on a Harley. You’re going to use your core and your legs to stabilize yourself while sitting back on the seat. Can’t have you giving me a crushed crotch or a concussion when we knock helmets every time I brake.”
She smiles and sits back just a bit, wiggling around to find a comfortable position.
“Bear hugs do nothing but make it difficult to ride, so you can either hold on to my shoulders or my waist. You want to basically mimic my moves on the turns. Just don’t try to control them.”
“I know. I got it.” She rests her hands on my shoulders, but must not feel secure because she lowers her hands to my waist and tightens her grip.
I feel my dick twitch and say a silent prayer, thankful she can’t see it. I exhale and lean back.
“You good?” I ask and she nods. “Okay. Hold on tight. I’ll try not to go too fast.”
“Give it all you got, Hendrix Dare. Don’t hold back on account of me.” Her eyes hold mine before she flips her visor down.
I’d love to give you all I got, Dagen McCallan. But I don’t think this little mouse could handle a snake like me.
EIGHT
Hendrix walkshis bike with us on top slowly to meet the others. I see Kinsley already suited up and on Malik’s bike, her visor up and a big smile on her face. My nerves begin to grow but not because I’m afraid of the machine I sit on. I’m nervous because of the man on the machine and how badly I want to strangle then kiss the living tar out of him.
My hands were shaking when I walked up to his front door. I’m sure I could’ve just walked down the long corridor that leads to the interior stairs, but I was too chicken shit to walk into a virtual strangers living room and ask for a cup of sugar. Well it wasn’t sugar, but wanting to know if he had some popcorn was basically the same thing.
When that door flew open and I saw his bright blue eyes blazing with anger, my ass crawled into my stomach trying to get away from him. He was definitely apologetic over mistaking me for what I assume are his friends, but it didn’t make me want to punch him in the face any less. And if anything, his apology followed by his hand touching my heated skin made me want to climb up his fit body and rub my scent all over him.
And now I sit gripping on to his waist and my legs practically wrapped around him. We pull up right next to Danté and Malik who, might I just say look delicious and terrifying in their own right. When Danté kissed my hand I felt my vagina swoon and faint. I can only imagine the things that man can do with that wicked tongue. Malik’s sweet demeanor relaxed me, but I have a feeling he is anything but sweet. To be honest, all three of them look dangerous and like the things that go bump in the night that your parents warn you about.
The engines of the three bikes scream when they start up and I jump, my fingers digging into the thick material of Hendrix’s jacket. I take two calming breaths and feel the hot air as it traps in my helmet. I look over at Kinsley and the smile she gives me says that I am in for quite a ride. She winks, gives me a thumbs up, then slams her visor down before gripping Malik’s shoulders. His bike jumps as he peels off with Danté close on his heels. My body tenses as I anticipate Hendrix to move next and he lives up to his promise to ride hard and fast.
I jerk back when he punches the gas and we fly down the driveway. I have to restrain myself from leaning in and wrapping my arms tight around his body. My teeth gnash together when he shifts and we leap forward, falling in behind Danté and Malik.
Even with the helmet, the wind whistles as we weave in and out of traffic. I’m not positive but I’m pretty sure lane splitting is illegal in most states. At least, in Texas it is.
The lights flash as we speed down the street and soon we’re entering the highway. Now the jitters set in as we go faster and faster and the night turns pitch black, only lit by the lights of the city.
“You doing okay?” a voice asks inside my helmet and I jolt in my seat.
“Um, Hendrix?” I’m so unsure of the voice filtering through and how it’s happening.
