Page 440 of Pucking Feral: Part Two

She grins at me from the seat. "Romantic."

"Damn right."

I swing a leg over Hogzilla, parked facing her, and nod.

"Alright. Fire her up."

The engine catches on her first fucking try.

That's my girl.

Her whole body jolts and her eyes go huge behind the visor, and even with the helmet muffling everything, I hear her laughing her ass off.

"CLUTCH!" I yell over the engines. "Easy on the throttle!"

She lets the clutch out slow, and the bike creeps forward three feet before she grabs the brakes and stalls it, and she's cackling so hard now she throws her head back.

"I DID IT!"

"I'M SO FUCKIN' PROUD OF YOU, BABE!"

She does it again.

Three feet becomes thirteen this time, and then the whole length of the lot. By the fourth run, she's doing whole circles around me. Even the crows are losing their collective shit, flapping their wings for her every time she laughs.

We take it to actual streets when she's ready.

"Just around the neighborhood," I say into the helmet comm. "You lead, I'm on your six."

"Yes, sir."

Shit. I could get used to sir.

She pulls out ahead of me and I hang back a few lengths, close enough to intervene if anything goes sideways but far enough she doesn't feel like I'm hovering.

Last thing I wanna do is go full-on helicopter mode, like a certain mother hen pack alpha who's gonna lay a fuckin' egg if he finds out about this.

I watch her, enjoying the view.

And not just how cute her butt is, perched high on that seat, jiggling a little from the engine's vibrations. I let myself look, too, considering she likes to poke my belly when it does the same damn thing.

So it's revenge.

The first block, she's got a death grip on those handlebars, elbows comically locked. Classic new rider, bracing for the crash before it happens.

By the second block, she's sitting up a little taller, and her head turns just enough to glance at the trees and buildings going by. And then stopping at a light to look up at one of the crows from the lot wheeling overhead.

She's having fun. Doing whatever the hell she wants. Making those fuckin' cute excited squeaky sounds into her comm, and I don't think she knows I can hear her.

It's just her, the road, and me at her back making sure nothing touches her.

I have to blink hard a couple times behind the visor.

Goddammit, not yet. Save it, Marine.

We cruise past a coffee place where a couple of our fans wave at me, then do a double take at the tiny rider in front of me in my spare armored leather jacket that she's swimming in, and all their phones come up.

Oh well.