Page 5 of The Biker's Captive
And God help me, my dick hardens.
This girl's lying there with blood on her and injuries, but the animal inside of me can’t stop wondering what she’d look like with my dick in her mouth.
"Focus," I mutter to myself.
Drawing my eyes away from her bare flesh, I tear the dress into cotton strips. Then I pour the alcohol on and use it to clean her wounds.
She's got on a pair of leggings, and I pull those down to check her leg injury.
I can't give myself any good reason to yank her panties off, so they stay on for now. My mouth goes dry as I look at the white cotton panties edged with lace. The delicate fabric circling her soft thighs.
I force myself to focus on her leg.
Blood oozes from a gash above her ankle. A shard of glass sticks out of her skin that must have gotten lodged in the accident.
In one quick move, I pull the glass out. She cries out, and her eyelids flicker open. She looks at me with drowsy eyes and then falls back asleep. Pulled back to unconsciousness.
Carefully, I clean the wound and wrap a strip of cotton tight around it to stop the bleeding. The ankle is twisted, already starting to turn an angry purple.
The blood on her face looks like it’s coming from a graze on her cheek, and it looks worse than it is.
I pop upstairs for some hot water and a flannel and I wash her gently, wiping away the grit and stains from the road.
Slowly I work myself up her body, pressing and prodding as I look for internal injuries. If she's bleeding inside, she'll need more assistance than I can give. But taking her to a hospital right now would be tantamount to murder. The Reapers have people everywhere, and they'll be on the lookout for a young woman with injuries from a car accident.
But she's lucky. The car was totaled, and by some miracle this woman is barely injured.
I gently run my fingers across her cheek, resting my hand on her warm skin. Her hot breath caresses my thumb, and her vulnerability in this moment makes my chest tighten. She looks so vulnerable, so precious.
She's alive, this precious human, and in my care. I won’t let her down. But I need to check that she’ll wake up again.
“Precious,” I whisper.
There's nothing, so I say it again a bit louder. "Wake up, precious.”
Her eyes flutter open. They’re as blue as the summer skies of California. Her eyes meet mine. And she gives me half a smile before she passes out again.
I can't leave her like this with nothing on, and I've ripped her dress to shreds. I keep a bag of clothes here. I go upstairs and grab one of my old t shirts.
When I bring it downstairs, she’s still sleeping in just her bra and panties.
Sometimes there’s a darkness inside of me that rises up like a beast. It’s a part of me, part of who I am. And sometimes I let the beast out and I let the darkness erupt inside of me as I do terrible things.
I feel that beast stir inside me now.
I’m overcome with the urge to rip her white cotton panties off to see exactly how her pussy looks underneath.
My trembling hands go to the edge of the panties. I slip my fingers under the lace trim.
The elastic feels tight, a soft pressure on my fingers. I can feel the tip of her course thick hair against my fingertips.
My breathing comes hard and fast. The beast in me wanting to rip her panties off and do dark things.
Then I look at her innocent face, her clear, blemish-free skin. Her full innocent lips. And I remind myself who I am. I rescued this woman, and I’m her protector.
Even if that means protecting her from myself.
Lifting her up with one arm, I slide the t-shirt over her head. It's so big that it covers her straining bra and her cotton panties.
