Page 18 of Love is Blind

I wait for her to put the other foot on the peg, then I grab both hands and wrap them around my middle. The feel of her body pressed tightly against mine sends all the blood rushing to my dick.

“You ready?” I grunt.

“Any instructions on where my hands can or cannot go?” she asks, her fingers trailing down to my belt buckle. Taking her hands, I place them back on my stomach.

“They’re fine where they are. You move them, we crash,” I hiss.

She laughs softly, her breath against my ear.

“So no grabbing the cock, got it,” she murmurs.

“Not while we’re riding,” I grind out, readjusting myself on the seat. Riding with a fucking hard-on is never fun. “You can grab my cock all you want when we get to the clubhouse.”

Grab it, suck it—she can do whatever the fuck she wants with it.

“In that case, I’m ready.”

I make sure her feet are firmly planted on the pegs before I start the engine, then I twist the throttle and we’re off. Birdie’s arms instantly tighten around me as I peel out of the parking lot, leaving a cloud of smoke in my wake.

The clubhouse isn’t that far from Sally’s, maybe a ten-minute drive, but I take the backroads, tacking on an extra five minutes. There’s less traffic and more open road, which allows me to increase my speed. As soon as the needle on the speedometer hits eighty, Birdie yelps, her nails digging into my abs through the thin fabric of my tee. I’m about to slow down but then I catch a glimpse of her in my side-view mirror. Chin perched on my shoulder and a big ol’ grin on her pretty little face.

A man can get hooked on that smile.

My hand falls to her thigh. I only mean to give her a quick squeeze, a gesture of assurance to let her know I’ve got her. But it stays on her leg until we pull into the compound and I have to kill the engine, making it clear her smile isn’t the only thing that can hook a man.

The feel of her alone can leave a man aching for more.

Chapter Five

Birdie

The kissagainst the wall was epic, but the ride on Ghost’s bike? I never wanted that to end. Oh, who am I kidding, I didn’t want the kiss to end either, but feeling the wind on my face, having all that adrenaline course through my veins—that’s not something I’ve experienced before and it’s likely to never happen again. But for those few minutes, I wasn’t burdened by my disability. I was weightless, and it was fucking amazing.

I think that’s why I haul myself at him when he moves to help me dismount from the bike. His hands hit my hips and I rip the helmet from my head, tossing my arms around his neck. But instead of attacking his mouth, I slam my lips to his beard—a mishap he quickly rectifies when he slides a finger under my chin and lowers his mouth to mine.

The kiss starts slow, but just like the first one back at Sally’s it quickly escalates. His tongue traces my lips, seeking entry and the second I open for him, he skillfully invades my mouth. He nips and sucks at my lips and my pulse skitters as every nerve in my body comes alive. A kiss can be a lot of things, but this one is like a love letter. One that’s written in flesh by his mouth and never to be forgotten.

Breathless and out of sorts, we somehow manage to pull apart. Neither of us say a word as he lifts me off the bike and sets me on my feet. I lick my lips, absorbing the taste of him that still lingers and he takes my hand, pulling me to his side.

We walk across the lot hand in hand until we reach what I assume is the clubhouse. Then he opens the door and ushers me inside. Music blares from somewhere and I’m immediately hit with the strong stench of marijuana. Ghost’s hands move to my shoulders, slowly trailing down my arms and the room goes silent except for the music.

“Yo,” Ghost calls over my shoulder.

No one responds and I don’t know if that’s a good thing or what. I probably should’ve asked some questions, like why we’re here and not his house. But then again, I’m currently living on my cousin’s couch so who am I to say anything.

His hands leave my arms and he moves to my side, tagging my hand again.

“Alright, well, we see ya’ll in the morning,” he says to the silent group.

“Ya’ll?” I whisper curiously. Just how many people are here?

“Club.”

I raise an eyebrow. They’re awfully quiet for a bunch of bikers.

“Are they always this quiet? It’s because I’m wearing pajamas and duck boots, isn’t it? I’ve stunned the bikers speechless.”

“I dig the boots, babe,” an unfamiliar voice replies. “The pajamas are a nice touch too.”

---