Page 199 of Chalk Outline
“Race you to the finish line,” Reeve says in a challenging tone, revving his bike.
“I’ll let you fuck me if you win,” I giggle, shift gears, and speed past him. The road is empty. Streetlamps cast a warm, faint glow on either side. The wind feels cool against my skin, not chilling to the bone.
I glance in my rearview mirror as he swerves to the right, swaying the bike from side to side.
“You said I get to fuck you if I win,” he says, steering the bike to the side of the road and stopping it abruptly. “I already won.”
That man.
Shaking my head from side to side, I make a U-turn and park the bike behind his. He helps me hop off, and my feet touch the ground as he lowers me down.
“You look good in those biker jeans and jacket.” His eyes sweep down the length of my body and back up. Soon, I won’t be able to fit into them. “My wife.”
We remarried six months ago.
I’m now officially Winona Bishop-Hardy. It makes me smile every time I think about it. When we first got married, he wasn’t allowed to be who he is, but now he can be what his heart desires.
I couldn’t be prouder of the man he has become.
He gently yanks my helmet off my head, dropping it on his bike along with his. A hand grips my throat, while the other cups my pussy. He pulls me toward him and our lips crush, a mix of mint, lemonade, and coconut chapstick. I open for him to dive right in and taste every corner of my mouth, glide his tongue against mine, and bite down on my bottom lip like he always does.
He breathes into my mouth like he breathes life into me. Over and over again.
He nibbles on a spot under my ear, then spins me around and bends me over the bike.
“You look different,” he points out, running his hands down my back.
“Different how?” I question.
“You look happy. You’re glowing.” He pauses to think for a moment. “You even ate mangos, and you hate mangos, but turned down pizza.”
I chuckle at his accurate observations. “I am happy, maybe the rest is a side effect. I’m trying old-new things.”
“Liar.”
“Am not.”
I’m hunched over, whimpering as a loud slap lands on my butt. The bike wobbles slightly, but he keeps it steady—always making sure I’m safe.
He unclips my holster and sets it aside with my thigh bag.
“Fine, have it your way.”
He pulls my jeans and underwear down enough to do what he needs to, opens my jacket, and hikes my shirt up.
His fingers softly brush the new tattoo on my thigh—two towers on either side of a stream representing my and Reeve’s worlds. A rope pulls them together, and they start to crack as they become one and reunite.
He lowers his zipper, and my insides dance with joy as I look over my shoulder. My eyes lock on his veiny hand fisting his erect cock. He strokes it back and forth, squeezing the base and flicking the pad of his thumb over the pierced tip. All while he rubs my clit with his free hand.
I push against him, arching my back as the sweet sensation floods me.
The heat of his body cloaks me as he plants a kiss on my back. My stomach flips as I wait to feel him enter me, but instead, his hands grip my ass cheeks. Fingers digging into my flesh, forcing them apart. His warm breath brushes against it. Tongue swiping up my butt hole, and I moan as he brings it back down to my clit. He slurps around it. Humming. Growling.
He touches my soft skin and reaches the deepest part of me with ease. Every bruise he leaves with nips and kisses is a mark,a claim, a promise. It doesn’t matter where we go or how far, I will always shatter against him because he’s an unbreakable rock, and I’m the stormy waves crashing against him.
“Fuck, Baby. You taste good, even as a liar.”
Knots tighten in my core.
