Page 73 of Dizzy

She’s sitting with one leg tucked under, swinging the other. She’s trying to spare her ass. I wailed on her good last night. No reason except she asked.

There were no handprints this morning, but the apples of her bottom were pink. Next time, I wanna leave marks.

Maybe she needs to get it for wasting pancake mix.

Nah. I don’t want to discourage her from eating. She still chows down like she’s making up for lost time.

I should probably give it a break anyway. She’s been game these past weeks, but I don’t wanna push too hard ‘cause I’m so into what we do.

Ever since we got the internet when I was in high school, I always search the same videos. I ain’t into the chains and ropes and ball gags. I like when the girl gets her ass reddened. The way her pussy looks peeking through red cheeks. The bending over. That’s the best part. And the squirming and squealing and dancing on her toes.

I don’t know. Some men like to look at jizz drippin’ out of a woman’s pussy. Some men like tits. I like a red ass.

Sharon would never go for it, and I never pressed it. Part of what makes it so hot is the woman’s got to be into it, too. I tried gettin’ it going with a few women since the divorce, but no real interest. Not like Fay-Lee.

With her, it feels like a game. You know when someone really wants to play, and someone’s goin’ along for whatever reason? Fay-Lee wants to play. And that makes her a fuckin’ rarity. I don’t want to bend her over, and she thinks “This again?”

Besides, she and I do have bigger fish to fry. My ghost girl’s still keeping her secrets, and with the club already suspicious, the sooner she trusts me with them, the better I can keep her safe.

I don’t want to wake up with a raccoon in my bed again.

Bad enough we’ve still got the one out back.

9

FAY-LEE

After breakfast, we ride out to the clubhouse. Dizzy keeps bikes in the garage there, and there are tons of spares. Dizzy hooks me up with a 150f, and he brought along the protective gear he bought Parker for Christmas. It fits, but it’s tight.

Parker glares at me when I come out of a corner of the garage wearing it. Honestly, when I asked to go riding, I had it in my head that it’d be like back in Dalton. My brother Robbie had a bike, and we’d go out to the fields at the end of our street and ride. No helmets or pads. I should have figured on the gear. The kids were all geared up when I ran into them on the trails that day I got busted.

“Is that the chest protector you were goin’ to give me for Christmas?” Parker scowls at his dad.

“Yup.” Dizzy doesn’t look the least bit abashed.

“This mean I can get the better one I showed you?”

“Guess it does.”

Parker smiles. Darn. Kid’s face totally changes. “Sweet.”

Carson already geared up, and he’s revving his engine in the yard. He’s big for his age, so you tend to forget how overall tiny he is until you see him on the bike. It’s adorable.

There’s no one else around outside. It’s early yet. From my week of squatting, I know that on the weekends, no one stirs much before noon.

The weather’s damn near perfect. Sixty degrees. Sky so blue it’s hard to believe it’s real. A hint of woodstove in the air.

Dizzy rolls my bike outside and holds it steady while I mount and check it out. It’s got more bells and whistles than Robbie’s, but the basics are the same.

“You know how to ride, right?”

I raise an eyebrow and smirk.

He grins. He’s backlit by the sun, all wild dark hair and beard and sparkling eyes.

He checks my chinstrap, tests my helmet. It’s on tight.

I lower myself to the seat. Oh, shit. This was not my best idea. I’m not that sore, but in an hour? I might need to ride back standing on the foot pegs. Last night was intense. Dizzy wanted to stop, but I begged for more. He’s more cautious than I am. Always checking in and searching shit on the internet to make sure he’s not gonna hurt me. I love it, but in the moment, I just want him to keep goin’.

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