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Every other woman I’ve cuffed with has been fine with the bike, salivating over it even. I’ve had more than a few sex sessions on it, but something tells me Savannah isn’t the type to ride with me to a lake, let me turn to face her, and…
“Is this right?” she asks, pulling the helmet over her head and fumbling with the chin strap.
I reach forward and help her, my fingers grazing her neck as I help with the helmet. “Work is having a Halloween party tomorrow night. Will you go with me? It’s nothing big. Just at a bar with darts and beer.” I click the helmet in place and push down on the top of it to make sure it’s secure. “I know it’s last minute, but we can find you an easy costume or something.”
“We could do a matching costume.” There’s uncertainty in her voice, like she’s not sure she should suggest something so couple-like.
I straddle the bike and nod to the seat behind me. “What did you have in mind? Float me some ideas.”
“Are you trying to distract me from getting on this death trap?” she asks.
I start the engine and twist my hands over the throttle, revving the engine. “What? I can’t hear you. Did you make a costume suggestion?” Laughing, I cup my hand over my ear like I can’t hear.
I walk the bike out of the parking space and turn it around. “You ready?”
“Ready to die?”
“Are you ready to have the ride of your life?” I don’t mention I personally want to give her the ride of her life on my dick, but my bike will do for now until these weird feelings go away. “Wrap your legs around my waist.”
Shit. My error hits me when her knees lift. Is she really wrapping her legs around me? Has she never seen someone ride on a motorcycle? “Arms! I meant arms. Fuck,” I stammer, shaking my head that I said legs.
She lowers her legs and wraps her arms around me, pushing her face into my back. Her head feels good there, and I roll my neck, trying not to think about her lips kissing my back or how her hair whispers at the nape of my neck. I chuckle and lean my head to see her face. “I meant arms. I don’t know where that legs comment came from.”
“Sure, Wilder,” she mutters, and I don’t joke further. Her eyes are squeezed shut, and she takes deep breaths through her nose.
I inch forward on the bike, and her grip tightens. “You’re fine, Savannah. I’ll keep you safe. I promise.”
We take off from the stop sign, only moving at twenty-five miles per hour, but she whimpers. A quick glance in the side mirror shows me she’s safe. She’s flushed and biting her lip until I’m worried it’ll bleed, but she hasn’t passed out from terror.
“It’s only a few miles and no interstates. I’ll show you my favorite place to camp. Think of Halloween costumes while we ride.”
“You want me to think of costumes instead of death?”
“Yes.”
“You and I have very different priorities in life. I don’t think we can be more opposite.”
It’s hard to hear over the bike engine, so I tilt my head until her hair touches my jaw. “I don’t know. I think we have a lot in common.”
“Like what?” She sounds genuinely interested.
I speed up and notice that my plan to distract her is working. “We both hang our toilet paper the same way, and you love my casseroles.”
“I do like a man who knows his way around a can of tuna and a package of egg noodles.” She loosens her grip on my waist, perhaps realizing we aren’t dead yet. We’re moving out of town traffic, and I speed up a little, still not going the speed limit. “The breadcrumbs on top are a nice touch.”
“Glad you like it. Want more?”
“Yes. Hit me. What do you think we have in common?”
“Hard work.”
“Pardon?”
“I’ve noticed we have similar work ethics. You work hard at your job, sometimes coming home late. I never call in sick and give my all to whatever job I have.”
“I guess I didn’t think of that,” she says, finally moving her head so it’s not buried in my back. I can feel the eyes on the back of my head as she looks up at me.
“Peanut butter and jelly,” I say, leaning my cheek against her head.
