Page 50 of Biker Daddy

“Brush now, babe.”

She narrowed her eyes but stepped quickly away so he couldn’t reach her. Grabbing the brush, she gave it a dirty look.

“Bring it here.”

“You’re not going to use on me again, are you?”

“Babe. Bring. It. Here.”

She shuffled her feet, but handed him the brush. She stood at the ready to jump back if she needed to though. He set the brush down and she relaxed, but then he grabbed her and yanked her back over his lap, giving her three sharp spanks with his hand. She gasped and smacked her hand on the floor.

“Babe, I’m okay with you bratting, that’s part of being a baby girl, but you need to be okay with the consequences, too.” He rubbed and squeezed her cheeks and she mewled. “Now let’s see how you really felt about this hairbrush.” He chuckled and his hand slid from her cheeks, down her slit, and settled at her opening.

“Seems awfully slippery down here for the hate you were showing that brush, honey.”

She felt her face flush. “That’s for you, Daddy, not that damn brush.” She growled and he smacked her thigh, making her whimper. “No more, please!”

“More, please?” The offending hand went back to her slick center and began exploring, sliding through her lips, circling her nub, and then rubbing her moisture up her crack and over her bottom hole, before sliding back to her pussy opening and gliding his long sturdy finger into it.

“More of this, yes?”

“Mmm, yes, please.”

He chuckled again, and the deep raspy timbre made a shiver run down her spine. He pumped his finger into her and she arched her back as he grabbed her hair, entwining it in his fist.

“Tell me what you want, babe.” He leaned down and licked the shell of her ear, breathing hot moist breath into it. Suddenly she wanted to conquer her fears with this man. She felt stronger with him, ready to challenge herself and her fears.

“I want… God, Drew, I want to fuck on your bike.” Her words surprised her, but they weren’t a lie. She did want to fuck on his bike. There was something freeing about it, as if the scared little girl she became after her mother’s accident wasn’t the real her, but a coat of armor she wore to protect herself.

He pulled her up and turned her head with her hair. His eyes were clouded with arousal.

“Take me for a ride and then let me ride you, Biker Daddy.”

His hiss of breath made her hotter, slicker, and she felt in control of his desire for the first time. She felt like a beautiful goddess.

“Let’s go.” He peeled off his t-shirt and put it on her. “Panties only.” His brow shot up to challenge her, but she only bit the corner of her lip.

It was dark and still; even the night sounds had quieted. She wore her wedge sandals, his t-shirt, and white cotton panties, and as she flew through the forest led by him in just a pair of jeans and his sturdy black boots, she felt as if she were a giggling aroused wood nymph that had tempted the manliest of catches.

He led her to the Norton, but she shook her head and pointed at the Harley. “That one.” She licked her lips. “The one you were riding when I first saw you pull up behind me.”

His smile came fast and wide and his eyes sparked with both mischief and arousal.

After he put her helmet on, buckled it, and warned her where to keep her legs so she didn’t get burned, he got on the bike and held it steady for her. Her middle throbbed as she slid forward on the leather seat and pressed herself against him. The warmth of his skin set her on fire. She clasped her arms around his hard middle and kissed his back.

“Hang onto me tight, babe.”

She planned to.

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