Page 11 of Run

The thought of her in discomfort does strange things to me. I want to hold her, to comfort her, and to stroke the pain away. But at the same time I want to make her hurt more. I want to see and hear her begging me to stop, to listen to her little cries as I punish her for the tiniest of transgressions that don’t even exist, at least not yet.

I’m off the bike and yanking the door open, walking inside before I realize what I’m doing. She’s calling to me like a siren of the sea, singing her entrancing song with each smile and little giggle that escapes her pouty, pink lips. I’m enraptured in her, lost to the desires inside my head and my pants.

“How can I help you?” Her soft voice asks as I step up to the counter, my helmet still on, the visor still down, concealing my identity.

She gives me a curious look, narrowing her sculpted brows, trying to see through the tinted plastic when I don’t answer immediately.

“Coffee, black.” I mumble out, sighing silently to myself when she turns around to make the order without further questions, like my name or anything stupid like that.

With the internally disheveled state I’m in, I could see myself giving her my name and blowing all my fantasies right out of the water. Never before has any woman had this type of effect on me, and I have to say it is alarming at the least, down right enigmatic too.

Her plump ass sways back and forth as she steps to the coffee pot, picking it up with dainty little hands that tremble just a little when she picks it up. The sound of her sniffing the air, and the sight of her little nose twitching like a rabbit’s is adorable, but alarming as she pours the black liquid into a Styrofoam cup.

She smells me. Huh. Scent, the most primordial sense is going to be the one to give me away.

I can feel my breath catch in my chest, and my heartbeat pick up. I’m just waiting for her to say something, that she knows that I’m the man who saved her on Friday night, then left her in her driveway when all I wanted to do was take her inside and ravage her until she was a wasted pile of flesh and bones.

“Do I…?” She starts to ask, peering at me questioningly as she hands me the steaming to-go cup.

Her hand grips the drink, not letting it go right away. Even through my glove I can feel the current coming from her. She’s electric, with a pulse of something that flows from the brush of my hand against hers.

“No.” I answer quickly, taking my coffee, and setting the cup down, spilling a drop on my leather glove in the haste to pull out my wallet and hand her money.

I don’t even know how much it costs, she hasn’t told me, and I don’t fucking care. She’s still staring at my visor in question, her nose twitching, and doesn’t say anything when Ichuck a ten-dollar bill on the counter. Her eyes flick to the money, and it gives me the breath I need to make my escape.

Running from her. That’s a turn of events.

I can’t risk another physical contact with her, not even a simple caress of my covered fingertips to her soft skin. This woman is going to be my undoing, and I can’t have that. Turning on my heel, I silently grab my stuff and haul ass away from her and her magnetic pull.

“Fucking smooth, asshole.” I grumble to myself as the door closes behind me, the little bell on the door jingling a tiny laugh at how the big bad wolf “H” is flustered by a petite little redhead in an unflattering green apron.

Get a grip.

The metal chair at an outside table in front of the pane window scrapes against the cement patio as I pull it out hastily. Flopping down in it with a sigh, I lean back and cover my helmeted face with my hands and sigh out the breath I’ve been holding. Why my brain thought if I didn’t breathe she wouldn’t be able to smell me is beyond me. I’m like a fucking teenager with an infatuation, all stupid and not knowing how to behave like a normal person.

“Normal. Ha! I’m the furthest thing from it.” I laugh to myself, making sure I’m facing away from her view of me as I lift the visor and take a taste of the mediocre black coffee. “Ugh.”

The large amount of business the establishment does is my saving grace, keeping her busy all evening as I sit outside, slowly sipping the sludge in my now cold cup. For a small place with not so good brew, they sure do have a lot of customers, and as I watch her toil away, the realization that most of them areyoung men, who take way too long at the counter to get their drinks pisses me off.

“This will not do, my precious. Not at all.” I mutter as I watch some blonde, preppy, college kid in khaki pants and a varsity t-shirt lean against the register, his eyes under shaggy bangs firmly planted on my Lily’s chest. “Not at all.”

I can feel a rage building up inside of me as I watch the interaction. His gaze never leaves her perfect tits, even when she makes it blatantly obvious to him that she’s not interested. She turns her back to him multiple times, and even side steps when he reaches out to touch her hand as she collects his money from the counter.

“Touch her again and die.”

The Styrofoam cup in my hand crushes as I squeeze it, the last drop of the coffee dripping onto the metal patio table. I’m losing my cool, and he’s about to lose everything. I may have wanted to sit here peacefully and just observe my girl, but I have nothing holding me back from taking another plaything to my basement tonight. When he leans over and tries to grab a tendril of her hair that’s fallen from her messy bun, he seals his fate.

“Enough is enough.” I growl under my breath, standing and adjusting my leather suit, slapping the visor on my Pista back down into place.

Even though the night has darkened enough, the extra security that my face is hidden is needed, just in case there are CCTV cameras around. I will not allow some punk ass bitch to be my downfall. That honor is saved for the pretty flower Lily.

The bell on the door jingles quietly as he steps outside with a smug look on his douche bag face. He puts his wallet backin his pocket, and walks to his beater of a car, oblivious to the man in all black on his heels.

Chapter Seven

The ride following him to his house is a nice leisurely drive through town. It’s a change from the rush of getting to my Lily, one that refreshes me, and allows the rage in my core to settle down into the simmering ire I need it to be. He drives slowly, like my grandmother, and I cruise three car lengths behind him, pacing him, enjoying the night scenery as we make our way back to the east, surprisingly close to where I live.

What’s even better are his surprised yelps as I grab him from his bed after I return home for the truck, my black face mask, and supplies, then make my way back to his place.

---