Page 17 of Elusive

Chapter 11

Sutton

She stayed, and by the fifth frame, forgot to stew or act “put out,” instead smiling, laughing… and sucking something fierce at bowling.

“I still don’t understand why they wouldn’t put those bumpers things up on our lane,” she frumps as we walk across the parking lot. “Those other people got to use them.”

I squeeze her hand, that she’s freely letting me hold, and laugh. “Might’ve had something to do with the fact that there was a kid bowling with those other people. You did good without them, though. I can think of at least four times where you hit a pin, rather than the gutter. And, your lil’ bent over, ass-wiggle approach looked perfect every damn time.”

“Whatever,” she huffs. “I’m gonna practice, then I want a rematch.” She’s too bent about losing to realize she just offered up a chance to spend more time with her… which I don’t point out. “Where the hell did you park, the lot next door?” Oh yeah, she’s extra salty — she hates losing.

“Right over there.” I point.

It takes her a second, then she gasps, peering up at me with excitement blazing in her eyes. “You’re on your motorcycle tonight?”

“We are, yes. Unless, you were spiking your sweet tea behind my back? You know the rule, any drinking, no bike. I’ll call us an Uber if ya had a flask tucked away.”

She shakes her head wildly, blowing the hair away from her mouth. “No flask. Not a drop of anything in tea. Oh my God, I can’t wait!” She squeals, actually squeals, a beautiful sound of uncensored happiness I’d bet few have ever heard her make, ripping her hand from mine and running toward my ride.

“Slow down,” I laugh, taking my time to catch up, and soak in her rare, unhidden enthusiasm. “You remember everything I told ya last time?” I slide up behind her, hands easily finding her hips.

“No, not really, but I’m an excellent passenger, a natural, so it’ll come back to me. Like riding a bike,” she laughs.

I’d of had to have been blind not to notice her delight the first time I took her on my bike, but I had no idea she was this fascinated by it. I can feel her heartbeat racing, a tiny tremor running through her, and the voice she’s using has a sexy rasp to it that’s speaking straight to my ego. And dick.

I turn her to face me, reaching up to run a finger over her flushed cheek. “I’ve never seen you quite like this.”

“No one has, ‘cause I’ve never felt like this. I’ve been dying for another ride since the second the last one ended, this first time was kickass, but now, knowing, what I’ve been missing, I’m on a whole different sphere of excited. Finally, I get to be all ‘badass biker chick again!’”

“Okay, Badass, let’s review a few things before we take off.” She bobs her head, eager eyes begging me to hurry, completely agreeable to whatever I say next. Never thought I’d see the day. “Be mine. Only mine. For real. Forever. Starting right now.”

Her face crumbles in confusion. “What?”

“You heard me.”

“Bastard!” She shoves at my chest, though snickering.

“Had the shot. You’re all wide-eyed, and cooperatively silent,” I chuckle, “had to take it.”

Not to be one-upped, she sidles in closer, lids dropping to half-mast as her lips curve into a sexy grin… hand rubbing my dick through my jeans. “You’re forgiven. It was kinda cute, actually. Now, will you please stop with the torture and give me a ride.”

Note to self: bring the bike around more often. As in, every fucking day.

“Please?” she purrs.

“Yeah, Sugar,” I grunt, growing hard beneath her touch. “I’m serious about reviewing a couple of things though, so gonna need you to stop with your torture, let me think straight.” She laughs quietly and removes her hand. “Okay, watch out for the pipe when you’re getting on and off. It gets real hot, don’t wantcha burning your pretty leg. When I lean or take a curve, don’t try to help me, stay loose and relaxed. Let me do the work, just like last time. If you need anything, pinch my stomach. And Presley, no letting go. Keep your arms around me until we’re completely stopped. Think you got it?”

“Got it,” she pops, rushing for the bike again. “Let’s go!”

“Not yet.” I snag her by a belt-loop to haul her back. “You need a helmet. That tiny detail, I would’ve thought for sure you’d remember. Crazy girl. Let me help ya put it on, then I’ll get on first, straighten ‘er up, and you climb on behind me.” She whirls around so fast her long hair whips me. I just can’t get over her sheer excitement… and doubt I ever will. “Good thing you stayed tonight, huh?” I hedge, carefully sliding her helmet on, tightening the chinstrap, and double-checking the fit. She nods her heavy head — cute as hell. “Alright, you’re all set. Not kidding, Hot Shot, do not let go of me for any reason. I know you, no sticking your arms out, pretending you’re flying back there.”

“No flying, check!” she yells through the helmet and gives me a thumbs up… alsocute as hell… and I load up, then reach behind myself to help her do the same.

****

Presley

God, how I love this. The dirty rumble of power, the surge of freedom that comes with not being enclosed, vibrations throughout my whole body, arms wrapped around the big, sexy rebel of a man maneuvering the massive machine — it’s electrifying. Intoxicating. And a more potent aphrodisiac than I even would’ve guessed. Pretty sure the vibrations between my legs are only half-motorcycle induced at this point.

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