Losing Me, Finding You(50)

“You're serious?” I ask him, getting chills and a gut wrenching belly ache. Oh God, yes. I can't believe I waited twenty-one years for this feeling. It's incredible.

“As a heart attack,” Austin says, taking a drag on his cigarette and tossing it to the ground, so he can smash it under his boot. I nibble my lip for a moment and then start to unbutton my jeans. Austin's eyes follow the motion and narrow when I pause with the zipper halfway down.

“Take off your shirt,” I command him. I want to see what's under there. Three times we've had sex and not once have I gotten to see his chest and belly. He grins at me and obliges, tearing the black fabric off and tossing it down alongside his vest.

Austin is … Well, God, Austin is ripped. He's tight and muscular and I can see every muscle in his belly as clear as day. His skin stretches hot and slick over the firmness of his chest and stomach, dipping into his pants with a sprinkle of sandy hair. Above his pecs, he's got another skull tattoo surrounded by roses and on either side, a gun pointing inwards. Sweat glides across the colorful piece of art and gets caught between his muscles, sliding down and soaking into the waistband of his jeans.

I practically tear my boots and pants off in my frenzy to touch him. I can't wait.

“Panties,” he commands me, and I pause. Being pants-less in the middle of the road is one thing, but being pantie-less is quite another altogether.

“Austin … ” He grins at me and reaches down, unzipping his own pants. My gaze follows his hands involuntarily, mesmerizing me.

“Better hurry before somebody comes along and we get interrupted.”

I swallow and look around, listening for the rumble of cars in the distance and hear nothing except for the droning of the cicadas. I drop my panties to my feet before I can stop myself and kick them next to my jeans.

“Now, get on the f*cking bike,” Austin leans back and flashes me his cock, hard and ready and waiting. I move forward and climb on so that I'm facing him, trying to move slowly so that I don't seem too eager. Truth is, I am eager, almost desperate for it. Three days ago, I was a virgin reading about my favorite heroines being banged in black and white. Today, I am the heroine, and I can't wait for my turn. “Now, look at you,” Austin says, voice dropping into this lengthy Southern drawl where every f*cking syllable is a nightmare of sexual tension, bleeding across my body and making me crazy for it. “Your perverted, little whore.”

“Fuck you,” I whisper, and despite the fact that I'm practically naked, straddling a motorcycle in the middle of nowhere, I blush at the vulgarity that pops out of my mouth. Who knew I had it in me? “Don't talk to me like that.”

“Why not?” Austin asks, taking my face in his hands and bringing my mouth to his for a kiss. “When you like it so damn much.” He reaches down and grabs me by the hips, pulling my pelvis forward, so he can press himself against me. The breath leaves my body in a rush, making me light-headed and dizzy.

I lean back against the handlebars and look down at the piercing in his cock, wondering if it will feel any different without a condom. Austin doesn't give me time to think about it, groaning and pushing himself into me, splitting me open with hot, hot heat and making my whole body ache with need.

I don't know if it's the Southern sun on our skin or the blistering heat of the still air, but I swear, Austin feels a hundred times warmer inside of me. I writhe in agony, certain that he's burning me up from the inside out, searing me with his cock. And as promised, I do feel the steel against my insides, rubbing along the length of my * with each thrust of Austin's hips.

My slick wetness coats him as sweat continues to drip down our bodies, making me feel dirty, disgusting and perverted. The worst part is, I love every single second of it.

“Come inside of me,” I whisper, surprised that those words are actually coming out of my own mouth. Austin laughs, but he doesn't stop, sliding his sweaty hands up my shirt and freeing my breasts from their bra, caressing them roughly and exposing them to the sunshine. I try to focus on the tattoo in the center of his chest, but my gaze keeps getting drawn between us to that spot where our bodies meet.

“I will, baby, I promise, but slow down, enjoy yourself.” I want to scream at him that I can't. I can't enjoy myself when I'm all wound up and full of tension like this. I let my head fall back and try to remember to breathe. If you don't breathe, you die, but goodness me, is there a better way to go?

“Austin,” I whisper. “Austin, Austin, Austin.” I can't stop saying it. It's like my voice is no longer my own, consumed by the thrills of pleasure that are spiraling through my body and blinding me.

“Goddamn, Cross,” he whispers, sliding his hands back down my sides. “You're going to spoil me rotten. This feels so friggin' good. You feel so f*cking good.” I grab onto the sides of the bike and find that I'm frozen, that I can no longer move, paralyzed by the feeling of Austin's body inside of mine.

After what seems like an eternity trapped between heaven and hell, Austin begins to groan, pumping faster and faster and faster until he's throwing his head back and spilling himself inside of me. I scream so loud that my voice echoes around the empty countryside and I collapse forward into the strong, sweaty arms of the world's sexiest biker.



Chapter 38

I take Amy back to the hotel and we climb into bed. It might be the middle of the Goddamn afternoon, but that doesn't mean shit to me. I can't resist another go at that beautiful body. Cross has curves for days, and I can't think of anything better than riding her until the f*ckin' sun goes down.