Hothouse Flower (Addicted #4)(106)

Don’t need those. Okay. I toss mine too, my heart beating wildly before my mind catches up with me. My body knows what’s about to happen. I swallow hard, and when his eyes meet mine, my heart thuds a few times. He wears a carnal look. Like he’s ready to devour me whole.

Oh God.

My lips part, desperate for air like I’m crawling up a mountain.

We’re on a motorcycle.

Together.

And.

And.

I can’t think it. I just feel it.

I can’t believe this is about to happen.





< 47 >

RYKE MEADOWS



I’ve never been this f*cking aroused in my life. With her standing on the back of the motorcycle, I went from fear to desire in a minute flat. After I was certain she was safe, I kept picturing her behind me. I kept picturing what she looked like, holding onto my shoulders, one of my hands gripping hers. And then my mind rerouted and I pictured her legs spread open and my entire cock filling her.

I want this, right here, with her. My f*cking body aches for it, and my mind is through hesitating. I remember how many times we’ve been on a bike together, and how restrained we’ve been. It all f*cking flies out the window.

My mouth meets hers, and we consume each other with each f*cking kiss, more natural, more animalistic than anything I’ve felt before. My core screams for her, as though she’s mine and only mine, and I’ve finally returned home.

I don’t want to spend an extra ten minutes stripping, so I reach into my boot and grab my knife. Her eyes widen, glimmering with that beautiful curiosity. She goes rigid, careful not to fidget while I unhook the button on her jeans and cut the fabric to the pocket. I sheath my knife in my boot, and rip the jeans even more with one forceful movement. Her yellow panties are exposed, and I easily tear those off her body. She’s already dripping and ready for me.

My cock f*cking screams for release.

“Ryke,” she breathes, her mouth open. I kiss her, holding the back of her head, and she practically whimpers underneath me.

Fuck. I suck her neck while my fingers fill her. She’s wetter than I’ve ever felt, and it’s not long before her body bucks up into mine, her cry piercing the open air. We’re shielded from the road, private for the most part, but it’s still new. It’s still a place I’ve never f*cked, and what we’re about to do, I’ve never done.

On a motorcycle.

With a girl I f*cking love.

I would smile if my body wasn’t so pent up, ready to drive into her and f*ck her hard and sweet. I unzip my pants, lowering them below my ass along with my boxer-briefs. And then I grab her legs and spread them wider before I guide myself inside her, slowly. I watch her reaction, making sure I don’t hurt her.

She clutches my neck and starts rocking her hips before I’m even halfway in. So I go all the way. She cries and stops pushing forward, her noise seriously f*cking messing with my head. It’s high-pitched and full of unbridled pleasure, full of torrid lust.

I burn when I watch her, when I hear her, my senses blistering into ash.

“Dais,” I say forcefully, reaching above her to grip the handlebar. It allows me to push deeper. Once. Twice. My erection fitting perfectly inside of Daisy.

She cries, her eyelids fluttering.

I lift her leg higher around my waist, and she breathes like she’s having a panic attack.

“I can’t…” She shakes her head from side to side.

I kiss her lips and slow down for a second. “You can, Dais.” I know. It’s f*cking intense. These feelings are blinding.

And we’re on a bike, straddling it together. I drop her leg and pull her closer to my chest so she’s in a sitting position. Instinctively her feet rest on the seat behind me, her legs tucked around my waist.

She tightens around my cock as I thrust against her. I put my hand on her lower back, a grunt scratching my throat. Fuck.

“This is—” she starts and then she cries out, her sudden climax forcing her body to me, I hold onto her and only have to thrust two more times before I release, my mind breaking into a million f*cking shards. As she pulses, descending off that cliff, she begins to laugh with so much happiness.

It’s a full-bellied, world-altering laugh. Even as she takes a moment to engrain this image in her head, the two of us, as intimate and close as you can be, on this sportbike, she still smiles like it’s the best picture in the world.

She meets my gaze. “This was the best ride you’ve taken me on so far.”

I kiss her strongly and then say, “Want to go again?”

She answers by wrapping her arms around my neck and scooting closer, her grin brightening the universe.

The red dust whips around us. I don’t give a f*ck. I make love to her like it’s the most primal experience in the world.

Like it’s what our bodies are created to do.





< 48 >

RYKE MEADOWS



I ride through the night. Daisy sleeps in my arms for some of it, straddled backwards and facing me. I think she averages about four hours of sleep a day, which is better than what she had been doing off Ambien. But I wish I could hold her in my arms through the night, with no restlessness, no moment where she wakes and struggles to return to that peace. I just want what she had—before the media, before the mental trauma.