Page 8 of Vegas Daddies

“Yeah. We’re good riders.”

“You.” She points a manicured hand at me.

I take it, and offer her a smile and an invitation to hop on the back. “I’m Lifesaver.”

“Lifesaver?” she repeats. “Because you’re a doctor?”

“Exactly.”

“And I’m Match.”

“Brander.” A leather-gloved hand sticks up into the air.

“Oh.” She smiles. “I’m?—”

“Alice. We know, sweetheart. You already told us.”

Another “oh.” She laughs and mounts the bike.

Fucking hell. How am I supposed to keep myself together when she smells likethat.It’s sweet, like poppies blowing in a field, but a darker undertone aches something in my balls. It’s sultry. Cherry, kinda, like her gorgeous plump lips that I want wrapped around my cock.

Where Match goes feral for tits, I go crazy for a dick suck.

But not just any blowjob. They have to be blonde.

And I’ve now decided that they have to be Alice.

But getting my dick into her mouth isn’t why I’m doing this. What Alice needs isn’t to be claimed by all three of us (no matter how down for it we’d all be). What she needs is a taste of freedom. To feel desert air blowing through her hair.

So I start the engine and we get the hell out of here.

“Hold on, sweetheart, and tight. We’ll be going pretty quick.”

“The faster the better,” she giggles in my ear. Her chin sets on my shoulder, and I feel her firm breasts against my back. “Like this?”

I bite my lip. She should back off slightly so I can’t feel the outline of her breasts. Maybe I should tell her to back off. “Yes, sweetheart, exactly like that.”

Or maybe not.

Wind whistles in my ear, and the bike engine roars. I’m in the middle, Match at the front and Brander at the tail. Already, endorphins find their way into my bloodstream and we’re not even out of the city yet. Some people paint to release stress, others weight lift and do extreme weekend activities like extreme ironing. Me? I ride bikes at full speed and grace my ears with the two most holy sounds on earth—singing wind and the hearty sound of a healthy Milwaukee-Eight.

Billboards whiz by at high speeds. We maneuver around cars and manage to hit all the lights on green. Swerving around vehicles elicits a few shrieks from Alice, but I feel her un-tense behind me as soon as I give her reassurance that everything is fine.

And then we’re sailing out into the Nevada desert. A long strip of road drifts off into the expanse like a runway. It’s my favorite stretch. We accelerate more, and join to form one long line that takes up the entire road. At one point we’re up to almost a hundred miles an hour, but then by unspoken agreement, we slow to a speed where we can actually hear each other talk.

“How are you holding up, darling?” Brander shouts over the wind.

“Great!”

I glimpse her in my side-view mirror.My, my.What a sight. A white smile is plastered across her face, eyes lit up to reflect a soul that’s been revived, finally, after years spent at an IT technician’s side. The slightly glossed over appearance of those eyes suggests she’s tipsy, but she’s still in control.

Her head dips. She starts fiddling with something on her finger.

Holy shit.

The ring finger.

She slips the ring off her finger, takes one final look at it, and after exhaling a weighty breath, tosses it out into the desert.

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