Page 20 of DILF

“Very good.”

“And you? You’re…” He looks down. “You’re okay. I didn’t hurt you or anything, did I?”

“Your ego knows no bounds.”

“Ha, ha. That’s not what I mean. You were so tight, I hope I didn't hurt you.”

“I’m fine, Linc. I promise.” I get up on the bed, kiss him loudly on the cheek and jump off. “See you later?”

“Yes, later.” He looks at me for a moment before walking out.

I spend the rest of the day on my laptop finishing a paper I have to write. It’s so depressing sitting in my mostly empty house, and around two in the afternoon, I can’t take it anymore and decide to go on a run, something I’ve done all the time since I was in middle school.

I have my earbuds on and am completely ‘in the zone’ when I feel—not hear—the rumble of a motorcycle behind me. I know who it is without having to look back. Since the divorce, Linc has been riding his bike to work. I slow down to a fast walk and take a moment to take him in. He’s in a suit and tie, which is a sexy as hell contrast to the black bandana holding his hair back. His big burly tatted arms hold the handles wide and tilted up. He looks biker-badass, but also like a powerful businessman, and I can’t help but wonder if all of the women who saw him ride by were thinking the same thing, wanting to know more about this conundrum of a man. Immediately my thighs tingle and my pussy throbs.

“Hop on.”

I’m feeling good and pumped up from my run, and I want to finish the last mile. “I’ll meet you at home.”

“Get the fuck on the bike, Lily.”

I’d been jogging in place, but this halts me completely. “Pardon?” I say, my arms crossed over my chest.

He crooks his finger towards him, and I roll my eyes and don’t move.

“Do you want me to yell what I want to say into this nice, quiet, suburban neighborhood?” With a roll of my eyes, I walk towards him, my arms still crossed over my chest. He looks around for a moment before whispering, “I’ve had a shit day, I was going to go home and drink a beer and pass out. Then I see the tightest fucking ass and the best legs running down the street.” He leans closer, and I swear he’s taking in my scent. “Get on the fucking bike, Lil, because I need to have my cock in you and I can’t wait for you to finish your jog.”

“Oh…” I say, my breath leaving me. That wasn’t what I expected him to say. I thought he’d say something about how jogging outside isn’t safe or that I’m dressed inappropriately or some other chauvinistic jealous shit. But this? This— I can work with.

“Yeah, oh…” he says, patting the seat behind him. “So get that fucking sexy ass over here, wrap those legs around me and let’s move.”

“Sure. Let’s go.” I’m almost giddy with excitement. “I’ve never been on a bike before.”

“Really?"

I slide behind him. “I’m all sweaty, Linc.”

He squeezes my thigh, “I know. Fuck, I bet you’re all slippery everywhere.”

“You’re gross,” I laugh and put my hands on his shoulder to hold on, but he pulls them off and places them around his waist.

“I don’t have a helmet for you, but it’s right around the corner. Just hold on real tight, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Real tight, sweetheart, okay?” he says as he revs up his bike, but all I hear is “sweetheart.” My insides contract and my stomach flutters. I hold on tight as we drive through our neighborhood until we’re at his house, and he presses something that causes the garage door to go up. He rarely comes over during the day, or, if he does, he goes through the backyard. Our neighbors are nosy and we can’t be seen together, but he doesn’t seem to be thinking about any of this right now.

So I continue to hold tight until the garage door closes again. He squeezes my knee again, signaling for me to get off. I wiggle off the bike but he takes my wrist and pulls me back. “I love my bike, Lily,” he practically growls, his eyes dark and his nostrils flaring. “And I love sex,” he adds. “Specifically, sex with you.”

He spins me around and slaps my palms on the motorcycle seat. “Do not move,” he says. He slides my shorts and panties down my legs and pushes up my tank and sports bra. I hear the zipper on his trousers followed by the sound of a belt buckle hitting the floor. “You ready for me?”

I look over my shoulder and he’s fisting his cock, his pants around his ankles. His expression is predatory. I nod, and he pushes my back down and uses his grip on my hip to lift my ass up in the air. I can’t spread my legs much, because my shorts are still half on.

“Don’t let go,” he demands as he thrusts in hard. I moan in pleasure as he pumps into, me causing my breasts to bounce viciously with each thrust. “You look good like that, on my bike.”

He continues to fuck me as I hold on and take in all that is Linc—wild and untamed yet controlled. He knows how to work my body so that I’m practically begging him to fuck me. When he lets go of me with one hand to reach around and strum my clit, I come so hard my knees buckle. He tightens his arms around my waist and presses harder against the bike as he comes inside of me with one final grunt. “Fuck, Lily. Fuck!”

“Yeah, what you said,” is all I manage to murmur, breathlessly.

---