High Speed Love

Lindsey can’t help it. Speed thrills her. It makes her wet. Csoky’s the same breed of trouble. He lives above a hundred miles an hour, and the first time she sees him she already wants his hands on her. He’s got the face, the careless grin, the hunger that girls can smell. She climbs onto the back of his bike, skirt hitched, thighs pressed tight against the leather seat, and the vibration alone has her slick before the first red light. He doesn’t ask. He just takes the turn too fast, one hand gripping the bars while the other finds her thigh and slips higher. By the time they reach the side street she’s already reaching back, fingers curling around his wrist, guiding him where she needs it. He parks in the shadow of a warehouse, kills the engine, yanks her onto his lap. Her thong is shoved aside in one rough tug. She sinks onto him with a sharp little cry, back arching, taking every inch in one slow, greedy drop. The metal frame creaks under them as he thrusts up, hard, deep, filling her until her breath breaks. When he wants more, he turns her over the seat, spreads her, presses the head of his cock against her ass and works in with slow, steady pressure until she opens for him completely. She moans into the night air while he drives into her, each thrust a sharp slap of skin. When he’s close, he pulls out, spins her around and paints her face, thick streaks landing across her lips and cheeks, glistening under the streetlight. She licks the corner of her mouth, eyes half-lidded, still breathing hard, the bike ticking as the metal cools.