The Rogue (The Moorehouse Legacy #4)(45)

He tried not to be rough, but he pushed up her shirt so he could get at her skin, and gyrated his hips against her thighs, dying to get into her. When she gasped, he eased up immediately, but she didn’t pull away. She wrapped her arms around his neck and held on harder.

His hands traveled downward so he could gather her skirt in his hands, but then he stopped.

“Come up on me.” He shifted, mounting the bike again. When he reached for her, she went with him, straddling the seat, straddling his hips. “Yeah…just like that. Oh…yeah.”

He captured her face in his hands and pulled her mouth to him. The sensations of her weight on him, her warmth, her body, shot his need so high he started to shake.

With a quick move, he slipped his hands down to her shoulders and eased her back so she was braced between the handlebars. The thin silk of her blouse offered no true barrier and neither did the simple, lovely bra she had on. Baring her breasts to the moonlit night, he fell upon her with his lips and heard her cry out.

Maybe he should have slowed down, but she was right there with him, hands tangled in his hair, breath shooting out of her mouth, body arched up against his lips and tongue. He was all screaming instinct at this point, and before he knew what he was doing, he’d wrenched her skirt up around her hips.

As he gripped her panties at the hip, she laughed a little awkwardly. “Spike?”

He nuzzled the side of her neck, thinking how beautiful she was sprawled out all over his Harley. “No one’s around.”

She looked up and down the road.

He eased back. “I’m sorry…I don’t mean to push. I’ll stop.”

“You’re not pushing.” She glanced around again. Then smiled. “Do…what it was you were going to do.”

He kissed her hard then ripped her panties apart on one side and moved them out of the way. When he touched her, he was utterly transfixed.

Without thinking, he dismounted the bike and fell to his knees in front of her, sliding his palms up the insides of her legs. She became restless as he moved up on her so before he leaned down to her body, he looked into her face.

Her eyes were cracked wide open and he was reminded they hadn’t done this the night before. And they were out in the open even if it was the middle of nowhere.

“Is this okay?” he asked, massaging her legs gently.

“Ah…. yes. If you…um, if you want to—”

“I do. Until I’m shaking from it. I wanted to last night…Was dying to.” He flexed his hands into the sleek muscles of her thighs. “Let me make you feel good, Mad.”

When she nodded, he smiled and dropped his head.

*

Mad could not believe that she was making love at the side of the road on a motorcycle.

But then Spike’s mouth found her and she didn’t think about anything other than him. As she fell back against the handlebars, the things bit into her shoulders and she lost her balance, but she didn’t care. And somehow Spike managed to steady her with his big hands without losing a beat. As he did wicked things to her body, her eyes opened to the vast sky and the stars above—the pleasure he gave her seemed just as magical and endless and incomprehensible.

After a mighty release had ripped through her body and she was worn out from the exertion of the ecstasy, when at last he lifted up from her, she knew there would never be another like him. Their connection was ancient and animalistic. Simple, not complex.

As he got to his feet, it was obvious he was painfully aroused, yet he pulled her skirt down and smiled as if he were grateful.

“Think you can hold on to me for the trip home?” he said with more than a hint of male pride.

“Yes.” She braced her arm on one of the handlebars, her head spinning as she eased off the bike. “But we need to stay here a little longer.”

When she reached for his belt buckle, he jerked. “Mad, we don’t have to—”

“Get up on this bike again. But first…” She undid his pants and pushed them all the way down. “Step out of these.”

His laugh was abrupt and surprisingly nervous.

“Feels vulnerable, doesn’t it,” she murmured with a smile. “Even though we’re all alone.”

“Yes…it does. But I’m game.”

She watched him lose his slacks, loving the play of moonlight over the strength and power and masculine beauty of his lower body.

When he mounted the bike, she eased up on him without hesitation and Spike groaned and shuddered as their bodies came together. So did she.

Their position meant she had to take control so she linked her arms around his neck and used his heavy shoulders for leverage. As she moved, he talked roughly in her ear, saying incredibly erotic things while his hands traveled all over her hips and her back and her legs. Everything faded away as the current flowing between them went from a buzzing hum to a burning roar.

“Wait, Mad,” he said breathlessly. “I’m going to…Mad, I’m about to…”

She was too far gone to stop, too lost in where they were joined, in the feel of him, in the giddy sense that she was the one driving them into the wall they were about to slam against.

“Mad, I need to pull out—Oh…Mad.”

The inferno overtook both of them at the same time. As she cried out, he let loose with a guttural shout in her ear, going rigid underneath her and then spasming and jerking. Her own waves took her away and she grabbed on to him, frightened of the intensity. He was the only solid thing in the world and she must have been the same to him because he was desperately holding her in his hard arms.