Page 45 of Run Little Killer
I snake my arms around Nix’s waist as he turns the handlebars upright and twists the throttle. Resting a cheek against the back of his hoodie, we jerk forward and pull out onto the highway beside Rhett.
It's mesmerizing to watch the landscape on the side of the road blur past. My thoughts wander as the sky swirls and the trees sway slightly out of focus like a Van Gogh painting. It's soft and calm, the exact opposite of my night in the forest with Nix.
I can’t help but think about last night. I hadn’t even considered Nix’s threat to fuck me when I decided to run, but when he called out behind me that he was a man of his word, my reason to run shifted. It wasn’t out of panic or necessity anymore. The thought of him catching me became more than a threat– it became a reward.
And what a reward it was.
Pain and pleasure weaved its way so deeply into my flesh that my system practically short-circuited. Stars burst behind my eyes as I swallowed down his salty release. It was raw and carnal, wringing every last drop of bliss from my body until I was nothing more than a boneless mess. I barely remember anything after he picked me up. His body was so warm as he cradled me against his chest, the spicyand musky scent of his skin soothing my racing pulse with every inhale.
I expected Nix to fuck like a mad man, rough and possessive, but I didn't expect the same savage claim from Rhett.
Not knowing if I'd get another night with them made it easy to step into the shower with him this morning. Each punishing stroke he delivered drove me closer to the brink of ruin until I was fucked so throughly that I forgot how I even ended up with them in the first place, why I left Briarwood to claim my revenge.
Dick-nesia, that’s what it is.He railed the thoughts right out of my head.
I squirm in my seat in an attempt to ease the pressure building in my core.Why did they both have to fuck like the devil begging for my soul?
The bike eases to the side, my stomach swooping and grip tightening as Nix guides it around the curve with practiced precision. We tilt upright, his hand coming to rest on his hip as he speeds up. I don't think I'll ever not feel like I'm going to fall right off with every turn.
My grip relaxes, hands drifting lower until they brush against a hard bulge of denim.Of course he’d have a damn boner right now.
His words from a previous ride echo in my head. ’Don't feel me up unless you're gonna finish me.’
The intrusive thoughts win out as I push up the hem of his hoodie. My knuckles brush against his warm skin, his lower abs tensing as I undo the button of his jeans. I slip my hand past his waistband and curl my fingers around his cock as it starts to thicken.
I haven't directly compared them, but by looks and feel,Rhett is longer while Nix is thicker, my fingertips barely brushing as they circle him.
Freeing as much of him as I can from the confines of his boxer briefs, I give it a teasing stroke, my hand moving up his length. Precum leaks from this tip, the pad of my thumb smearing it around when he grabs my wrist.
Nix slides my hand beneath his black bandana, the stubble on his face scraping my skin before his wet tongue drags across my palm, tongue ring clinking against his teeth as he sucks it back in. Moving me in the slightest, his chin flexes, spit pooling in my palm– warm, wet and deliberate.
My fingers wrap around his thick shaft again as soon as he lowers my hand. I spread his spit from base to tip as he positions his hoodie over his lap to conceal my hand. I roll my wrist, twisting up and alternating my pressure as I drag it back down.
I fall into rhythm, his heart pounding wildly in his chest, body vibrating with a deep moan. He throbs in my grip as I pause at the top. He hisses sharply as I gently pinch and pull the extra bit of skin beneath the head, the same spot that Rhett has a barbell through. His hips buck up, the thick vein running up the side pulsing in my palm as his hot release spills down my fingers.
Twisting them against the inside of his hoodie, I wipe his cum from my hand and tuck away his softening cock. Then I grab at his jeans, trying and failing to refasten them. His hand clamps down on my knee, giving it a squeeze, letting me know not to worry about it. Instead, he twists the throttle, the bike surging forward until we’re riding right beside Rhett.
Nix motions to Rhett, Rhett going wide and signaling to the truck driver. The brake lights on the truck flash and Nix letsoff the throttle. We slide back behind Rhett, changing lanes as the motorcycle slows and we take the next exit. Nix parks, then kicks down the side stand, the bike tilting and he fists his jeans and swings his leg over.
He fixes the button as he turns, his leather-gloved hand darting out and seizing my chin. "My only regret is that you didn't get to swallow me," he murmurs, his thumb and forefinger digging into my flesh and forcing my mouth open.
His jaw shifts and flexes as he leans forward and spits in my mouth. I flinch when his saliva hits my tongue, but quickly swallow it down and lick my lips.
"Thatta girl," he growls, lips tipping in a sinister smirk. "That'll have to do for now."
20
NIX
My cum had already dried and adhered to the inside of my sweatshirt by the time I got into the rest stop. I did my best to put some water on it to soften the stiff fabric, but it was one of those stupid fucking 'eco-friendly' places with no goddamn papertowels. Maybe their management will reconsider when the maintenance guy reports back about me washing my dick in the sink and holding it under the automatic hand dryers.
But if a few damp spots on my hoodie are the sacrifice I have to make to have Lennon stroking my cock on rides, then I'll make it every fucking time.
Her hands are now resting on my thighs, forearms squeezing a little tighter against my sides as I downshift and lean the bike into the turn. The road straightens out, the taillights of the moving truck flickering as it starts to slow in front of us, a warehouse coming into sight.
Chain link fence woven through trees surrounds the parking lot, the gate rolled open already to let us through. Large box trucks withWarren Furniturescrolled on the side are parked along the building as we ride around back. Thenthe moving truck we've been following starts to reverse towards the loading dock, Rhett pulling to the side.
My boots scrape against the concrete as I toe up beside him and knock down the kick stand. Just as I cut the engine and dismount, I lay eyes on a bike I'd recognize anywhere– Mav's. A matte black 2016 Indian Chief is parked near the door, and the sight of it makes my stomach drop.
