Page 40 of Biker Boo
Because if she knew it was me, Royal, she’d run.
Her mouth crashes onto the mask, her lips sliding like she’s desperate to swallow me whole.But not me.She thinks she’s kissing him.That name burns in my ears before she even says it again.
Legend.
Her hands are wild, clawing at my hoodie, tugging, yanking, begging me closer.I pin her wrists to the wall again, harder this time, stone biting into her skin.Her gasp shoots straight through me, half pain, half need, and it makes me grind against her pussy until she moans.
“Legend,” she breathes.
I grab her hips, lift her clean off the ground, and slam her back against the cracked stone arch.She whimpers, legs wrapping around my waist, skirt bunched high, panties already soaked against my jeans.My teeth find her throat despite the mask, biting hard enough to leave marks.I want her to wear me tomorrow, to feel me every time she shifts in bed or pulls on her boots.
Her lipstick smears against the mask as she kisses it, licks it, begs me without words.My hands are everywhere, gripping her ass, sliding between us, shoving the thin lace aside.She cries out when I drag the blunt head of my cock against her swollen pussy.
“Please,” she pants.“Don’t stop.”
She thinks she’s begging him.
I push my cock into her slow, savoring the stretch, until her head thuds back against the wall.She claws at my shoulders, thighs squeezing me so tight I see stars.My hips snap forward, slamming her against stone with every thrust, bruising her, claiming her in ways he never has.Her cries echo through the ruins, broken, breathless, alive.
“Legend,” she sobs, arching.“Yes, God, yes.”
I lose myself.One hand grips her ass, the other tangled in her hair, jerking her head back so I can escape the mask, bite her jaw, her throat, the hollow of her shoulder.She’s shaking around me, moaning his name, giving me what I’ve starved for since I was fifteen.
Every thrust propels her harder towards the wall.Her boots scrape at the stone.Her body bucks and trembles, breaking apart on me, and when she screams, it’s not my name.
It’s his.
But it’s my cock deep inside her.I come undone anyway, teeth sunk in her skin, fingers bruising her thighs as I bury my dick deep, grinding until she shatters again.
When it’s over, I’m still holding her pressed to the wall, her breath hot and ragged against the mask.
After, she sags against me, legs weak, heart racing under my palm where it rests on her chest.She touches the mask gently, fingertips tracing the cracked lines like she’s trying to memorize them.
“I love you, Biker Boo,” she whispers.
My whole body locks.
She doesn’t meanme.
But I let her believe it.
Pulling out of her, I set her down gently.Zip my jeans.I kiss her forehead through the mask, then step away before I say something that’ll ruin the spell.
And then I vanish into the dark.
Just like a ghost.
Just like always.
I lean against a tree, catching my breath like I just ran through a goddamn war zone.My jeans are tight, soaked in her and me, and my heart feels like it's trying to claw its way out of my chest.
She said she loved me.
Even if it was meant for another man’s name, I can’t unhear it.Can't undo the way her body melted for me.Forme.
I press the back of my head against the tree, the wet moss cold against my skull.My fingers twitch.I can still feel her.The tremble in her thighs, her wet pussy, the way she came undone with her mouth against my masked mouth like I was her salvation dressed as sin.
I should’ve stopped.
