Page 22 of What's Left of Us

For a long moment, Georgia is silent. Contemplative, perhaps. Her tongue dips out, trailing over the seam of her lips again. I watch each little movement, being taunted by her whether she knows it or not. “I want to escape.”

My mind comes up with at least three different positions I’d like to put her in, making me a hell of a lot warmer than before. If an escape is what she wants, I’ll give her one. “I think I can help you.” Brushing a piece of hair behind her ear, I ask, “So the real question is, do you want to go to your place or mine?”

She swallows again, stares at me, and then down at her purse. I’m not sure what she’s thinking for the few moments ofsilence before she picks up her phone, does something on it, and then tucks it away. When she stands, I’m at eye level to her chest.

My ears perk up at the magical word that comes next. “Yours.”

I let reason evade me as I lead her out of the dive bar and toward my motorcycle parked off to the side. When we stop next to the Harley, I offer her the only helmet I have and say, “Trust me,” when I see the skepticism on her face.

“I’ve never been on one before.”

I’m half-tempted to make a sexual joke, but something in me softens when I see the nerves on her face. “I won’t let you fall. Okay?”

She looks at me, wariness tilting her lips.

Then, under her breath, I hear, “One night.”

I help her put the helmet on before she hesitantly climbs onto the back and wraps her arms around me.

Twenty minutes later, we pull up to my apartment building. I wish I weren’t riled up from something as simple as her arms around my waist, but the second she touched me, my dick jumped to life, straining behind the layers of clothing, knowing it’s moments away from sinking between a pair of sexy thighs.

As soon as we’re off the bike, I help her out of the helmet, grab the back of her neck, and pull her into me for a clashing kiss until a startled noise rises from her. I take advantage of her open mouth to explore it, letting my tongue and teeth wander and play and nip.

When I pull back, I tip her head back by her hair to look me in the eye. “You’re going to do exactly what I say, and if you’re a good girl, I’m going to let you come. Do you understand?”

Her chest rises and falls rapidly, a shaky breath exhaling from her parted lips. When she nods, it’s the green light I need to give us both some much-needed relief.

I put a little more pressure on her hair. Silky like I thought. It’s going to look great around my hand as I watch her deep-throat me. “I didn’t hear you, sweetheart.”

“Yes,” she gasps as I dip my head to the crook of her throat and nip the skin above her pulse.

I lick the spot I bit and feel her shiver under my touch. “Good. If an escape is what you want, then you and I are about to have a very long night ahead of us.”

As soon as the front door clicks closed behind her, her back is against it with my mouth on hers. She’s responsive, her hips arching against mine that pin her between me and the wood. My hands grip her sides, sliding over the perfect curve of her ass as hers slowly explore my back, mapping out every inch until they find their way to my hips and hesitate to go any lower.

Biting her bottom lip once hard enough to get a stifled gasp, I trail my lips over to her ear and do the same to the lobe while my fingers grab hold of the hem of her shirt. Breaking apart, she lifts her arms for me to strip her, her black bra soon following behind the other piece of fabric thrown somewhere behind me onto the floor.

Definitely not fake, I note of the perky round breasts that my palms greedily knead. Pinching the nipples that pebble in the cool air, I harden when I hear the subtle noise Georgia makes.

“Do you like that, pretty girl?” I ask, playing with her nipples as her jaw quivers. Lust and something else coats her face. Nerves? No. Somebody like her, as beautiful as her, couldn’t be nervous.

Dipping my head, I take one of the hard buds into my mouth and suck, getting another drawn-out moan from her as she threads her fingers through my hair. I allow her to play, to comb through what little is on my head, and trail her fingers downward to mold around the back of my neck, squeezing,massaging, then lowering to my collarbone as if trying to figure out where to leave them.

Moving from one breast to the other, I work skillfully to undo her jeans, slowly sliding them and the thin scrap of black material she calls panties down her thighs. A matching set. She knew damn well what she was doing when she walked into the bar.

When she’s bare to me, I step back and take her in. “Beautiful,” I murmur under my breath. Her hands move to cover her before I stop them. “Don’t. I want to see you. Better yet—” I drop to my knees with a devious smirk on my face as I look up at her. “I want a taste.”

“What do you—”

She doesn’t get the question out before my lips graze over the carefully groomed area between her thighs. Her words get caught in her throat as my tongue darts out, doing exactly what I tell her I will.

Within minutes, she’s panting over me, one of her legs draped over my shoulder where I put it for better access and all but clenching my head as I massage her ass with my palms while licking, flicking, and sucking the nerves that build her to the brink of insanity.

And I fucking love it.

Her sweet taste.

Her desperate noises.

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