Page 36 of Dare You to Run
I tap a button on my helmet then turn around and do the same to Dagen’s helmet to connect the bluetooth speakers. Once they’re paired up I tell her, “The other night, I took it slow. This bike is much more powerful than I let on. I took it easy on the ride over, but I won’t hold back now. Engage your core muscles and if at any point you get scared, grip tight and just tell me to stop. Got it?”
“I got it but don’t worry. I won’t tell you to stop. I want all that you got.”
My body tingles with her words, wanting them to mean more than just a fast ride.
“Be careful what you wish for, little mouse.” I turn my back to her and when she places her hands on my shoulders, I move them to my waist.
I put my gear into neutral and turn the fuel tap on. Moving the choke, I press the electric start and listen to my bike roar to life. The vibration that it sends through my body is an adrenalinerush. I’ve never felt happier than when I’m on my bike. Tonight the rush is amplified with Dagen on the back.
My Superleggera V4 has a free-rev engine and it loves to talk. Once I get the motor spinning at ten thousand rpm’s, Dagen is really going to wish she hadn't told me to give her everything.
The sound is ear piercing and I feel her hands grip me tighter.
“Ready?” I ask her.
“Um, yes?” Her confident voice only minutes ago sounds like she’s already regretting her words.
“The torque has a big kick,” I shout over the motor. “We’re going to take off fast.” I reach around and give her thigh a squeeze, assuring her that I got her.
One second we’re standing still on my beast, and the next we’re flying down the street at eighty miles an hour. Her voice squeaks and her hands wrap around my waist as she grips on for dear life.
I split between slow moving cars until I get on the highway. It’s quiet tonight so I decide to take her down to the gulf, taking the long way from one highway to the next.
It isn’t long before she’s relaxing and falling into my sway like the other night, despite the speed I’m going. I can feel the rapid rise and fall of her chest and I realize mine moves to the same beat. Our gear makes it difficult to really feel everything, but I feel her fingers splay over my stomach. They creep their way to the hem of my jacket and work under the snug fit. She doesn’t wear gloves like I do and the soft skin of her fingers ghost over my heated flesh. My muscles flex and my hands grip tighter on the handles as we speed faster down the highway. The tension in her body leaves and we fall into a comfortable silence.
Twenty minutes pass by when we cross the Bay St. Louis Bridge and roll up straight to Henderson Point Beach. I pull mybike off the highway and into the small parking lot that sits along the sand. I turn off the engine and throw my kickstand down.
When we’re met with silence, I look over my shoulder and see Dagen pull off her helmet and her long brown hair tumbles over her shoulders. Sweat coats her forehead and I pull my hands free from the gloves and reach over to wipe it away. Her eyes glisten under the moonlight and I want to drown in them.
Climbing off, I turn around and sit back down facing her and leaning back against the gas tank. My helmet gets pulled off and I start to undo the zipper on my jacket. Dagen’s eyes watch every tooth as it pulls apart from the other. It’s a slow tease and she’s a captive audience.
When my jacket is open, giving me a little more room to breathe, I do the same to hers.
“So what do you think? Still wanna learn to ride?”
Her eyes grow wide and she gulps with a nod. “Yes. More than ever.”
Smirking, I tell her, “That’s not what was supposed to happen.”
“What was supposed to happen? Were you expecting me to run scared?”
“Well, yeah.”
She leans forward, bracing her hands on the seat and whispers, “I think you’ve found a side of me that was waiting for the right person to unlock it. And now I want more.”
This little mouse may have bitten off more than she can chew.
FIFTEEN
A devilish smirkdances across his handsome face and I lock my lips to his. The cool breeze from the gulf brushes my hair against my cheek and Hendrix smooths it back and cups the back of my head. He holds me to him tightly and dives into our kiss. He draws out a moan and I find myself scooting closer to him until my legs wrap around his and he’s leaning me back on the seat.
My hips roll and through the thick denim of his jeans, Hendrix’s dick hardens and pushes up against my thin leggings. Our jackets are still on and we work to free ourselves from the constricting leather that holds us back from letting our hands explore.
When our jackets sit on the asphalt, Hendrix’s hands dig into my ass and he massages each globe, his fingers pinching my flesh. He must tire of the fabric separating us because he slides his hands down the back of my pants, working to feel my skin against his.
“Is this the more you were wanting, little mouse?” he mumbles, our lips still pressed together.
“No. More, Hendrix. I want even more.”
