Page 63 of Misadventures of a Biker

“Salad?”

“Everything,” he said. “Salad. Lasagna. The bread. I can’t get enough.”

We were eating later than I’d hoped and were pressed for time, but I beamed with pride at the thought of him enjoying the meal. “Absolutely.” I stood and reached over the table. “Hand me your plate.”

He lifted his plate and extended his arm over the table. The muscles on the back of his bicep flared to twice their normal size. His shirtless antics had me so horny, I was lightheaded. Itching to get my plan underway, I took his plate and filled it with food. After a moment of admiring him from my out-of-view vantage point, I returned to the table.

I handed him the plate. “I just noticed you’re half naked. What’s going on with that?”

“I didn’t want to wrinkle that new shirt you bought me,” he said. “I thought it’d be nice to wear it out.”

“I think that’s a great idea,” I said. “If we’re not taking the motorcycle, I’ll wear a dress.”

If I drove, it would make succeeding that much easier. I finished my meal and excused myself from the table while my shirtless boyfriend continued to shovel food into his gullet like a starving man.

“I’m going to get dressed really quickly,” I said, glancing at my watch as I stood. “We need to leave in thirty minutes or so.”

“I’ll be ready.”

“Okay.”

I changed into my evening’s attire of a comfortable dress, two-inch heels, and my favorite accessories. After primping my hair to perfection, I returned to the kitchen. Although the dinner mess was cleaned up, Devin remained shirtless and was pacing the floor.

“Are you about ready?” I asked.

He paused. “Just about.”

He kissed me—passionately. As he broke our embrace, he lifted me from my feet.

Lightheaded from the kiss, I mentally fumbled to figure out what was happening. “What are you doing?”

He lowered my butt onto the edge of the island. “Sorry I was late.”

“That’s okay,” I said. “We’ve still got time.”

He glanced at his watch. “About five more minutes?”

I looked at the clock on the microwave. “Give or take. Why?”

He pushed my dress to mid-thigh. “Get this thing out of my way.”

Confused, I gave him a look. “What are we doing?”

“I’m going to lick your pussy for five minutes,” he replied. “Until we’ve got to go.”

Licking my pussy trumped a movie about men racing cars. We could be an hour late for all I cared. As luck would have it, I was sans panties. Eager to let him get to work, I hiked my dress to my waist and spread my legs so wide, I feared I might dislocate a hip.

“How’s that?” I asked.

He wedged his shoulders between my thighs and lowered his head into my lap. “Perfect.”

I rested my elbows against the island. I peered down at him. His warm breath against my wet pussy caused me to shake with anticipation.

He flicked his tongue against my clit. My body shuddered. He did it again. He slid a finger inside me. A few gentle strokes followed. He added another finger.

He gripped my ass firmly in his hands and pressed his mouth against my throbbing pussy. I bucked my hips against his face, maintaining perfect timing with flicks of his tongue.

Flick, flick, suck.