couldn’t tear my eyes away. My fingers tingled.
“Are you staring at my ass?”
Jesus, did he have eyes in the back of his head? “What else am I going to look at?”
Abandoning the card slot, he turned and leaned his back against the wall. His wide stance and the lounge of his upper body tilted his pelvis just right. Leather molded around the raised ridge of his cock and strained to contain the brawn of his thighs.
My brain screamed look away while my body melted into a gawking blob of liquid heat.
He reached out and hooked a finger under the collar of my jacket, tugging me right up against the focus of my attention. He was so hard and thick I didn’t just feel his length against my thigh. I felt his arousal everywhere.
His legs were long but so were mine, and our hips met in a grind of mutual need, verbalized by our simultaneous exhales. There wasn't a cell in my body that didn’t shudder with thrilling pleasure.
The elevator had yet to move, but it grew smaller, the walls pushing me closer to this mysterious, tempting man. My breath rushed out in sharp bursts then quickened as his hands came down on my ass. The hard smack became a painful squeeze, one he used to force my body impossibly close to his.
His grip was neither gentle nor tentative. He held me against the steel trap of his body as if I had no say in what happened next. With a hand clenched against the crease of my butt and thigh, his other caught the back of my neck. His hold on my body was dominating, the aggressive stab of his length against my clit so damned erotic. Confident. Unapologetic. Perfect.
“Tell me, Miss Ducati”—the drag of his voice vibrated deep inside me—“will I find your pussy as tight as I’ve imagined it?”
I closed my fingers around his shoulders, struggling to control myself, the clenching between my legs unbearable. And he wanted to know how tight my pussy was?
Caged in the V of his thighs, his back to the wall, a hand on my neck, the other clutching my ass, I was restrained by muscle. His rock-solid grip wasn’t letting me go anywhere, not that I wanted to.
The top of my helmet tapped his chin guard as we moved in a slide of leather. The sensual roll of his hips and the grind of mine built into the most torrid dry hump I’d ever experienced.
The fluorescent lights reflected off his black helmet, making his visor even more opaque. I had no idea who he was under there. Maybe that was part of the allure. A seductive mystery.
I slid my hands to his chest, the leather of his jacket surprisingly soft and thin, like velvet over brick. I traced the carved dips around his pecs, each muscle etched from stone, my fingertips buzzing with sensory-overload.
“If you’re going to feel me up”—the hand on my neck slid to the snap at my collar and tugged roughly—“take off your jacket. It’s only fair.”
So fucking tempting. I wore only a thin shelf-bra cami underneath. I glanced at the panel of buttons, wondering if someone would call the elevator, hoping they wouldn’t.
“Elevator’s not going anywhere.”
So he’d done something to it. Would the guards notice it was jammed and come to investigate? “How—”
“Invite me up.” He yanked the zipper from my throat to waist, and his hips froze.
The sudden chill peaked my nipples against the fabric, his visor reflecting the curves of my cleavage. His hands clenched around my ribs, and his eyes… Good thing I couldn’t see them because if they were smoldering, I might’ve internally combusted.
As it was, my skin inflamed, and my hand twitched to punch floor 88 . Invite him up? If he recognized Collin, discovered I was married, how would he react? Would he understand or use it against me?
Or I could text Collin, tell him to disappear, then sneak Evader into my room.
Ha! I dropped my helmet on his chest. How had I gone from responsible adult to slutty teenager in the blink of a few minutes? “I can’t.”
His hands wandered from my ribs to the gun
“Are you staring at my ass?”
Jesus, did he have eyes in the back of his head? “What else am I going to look at?”
Abandoning the card slot, he turned and leaned his back against the wall. His wide stance and the lounge of his upper body tilted his pelvis just right. Leather molded around the raised ridge of his cock and strained to contain the brawn of his thighs.
My brain screamed look away while my body melted into a gawking blob of liquid heat.
He reached out and hooked a finger under the collar of my jacket, tugging me right up against the focus of my attention. He was so hard and thick I didn’t just feel his length against my thigh. I felt his arousal everywhere.
His legs were long but so were mine, and our hips met in a grind of mutual need, verbalized by our simultaneous exhales. There wasn't a cell in my body that didn’t shudder with thrilling pleasure.
The elevator had yet to move, but it grew smaller, the walls pushing me closer to this mysterious, tempting man. My breath rushed out in sharp bursts then quickened as his hands came down on my ass. The hard smack became a painful squeeze, one he used to force my body impossibly close to his.
His grip was neither gentle nor tentative. He held me against the steel trap of his body as if I had no say in what happened next. With a hand clenched against the crease of my butt and thigh, his other caught the back of my neck. His hold on my body was dominating, the aggressive stab of his length against my clit so damned erotic. Confident. Unapologetic. Perfect.
“Tell me, Miss Ducati”—the drag of his voice vibrated deep inside me—“will I find your pussy as tight as I’ve imagined it?”
I closed my fingers around his shoulders, struggling to control myself, the clenching between my legs unbearable. And he wanted to know how tight my pussy was?
Caged in the V of his thighs, his back to the wall, a hand on my neck, the other clutching my ass, I was restrained by muscle. His rock-solid grip wasn’t letting me go anywhere, not that I wanted to.
The top of my helmet tapped his chin guard as we moved in a slide of leather. The sensual roll of his hips and the grind of mine built into the most torrid dry hump I’d ever experienced.
The fluorescent lights reflected off his black helmet, making his visor even more opaque. I had no idea who he was under there. Maybe that was part of the allure. A seductive mystery.
I slid my hands to his chest, the leather of his jacket surprisingly soft and thin, like velvet over brick. I traced the carved dips around his pecs, each muscle etched from stone, my fingertips buzzing with sensory-overload.
“If you’re going to feel me up”—the hand on my neck slid to the snap at my collar and tugged roughly—“take off your jacket. It’s only fair.”
So fucking tempting. I wore only a thin shelf-bra cami underneath. I glanced at the panel of buttons, wondering if someone would call the elevator, hoping they wouldn’t.
“Elevator’s not going anywhere.”
So he’d done something to it. Would the guards notice it was jammed and come to investigate? “How—”
“Invite me up.” He yanked the zipper from my throat to waist, and his hips froze.
The sudden chill peaked my nipples against the fabric, his visor reflecting the curves of my cleavage. His hands clenched around my ribs, and his eyes… Good thing I couldn’t see them because if they were smoldering, I might’ve internally combusted.
As it was, my skin inflamed, and my hand twitched to punch floor 88 . Invite him up? If he recognized Collin, discovered I was married, how would he react? Would he understand or use it against me?
Or I could text Collin, tell him to disappear, then sneak Evader into my room.
Ha! I dropped my helmet on his chest. How had I gone from responsible adult to slutty teenager in the blink of a few minutes? “I can’t.”
His hands wandered from my ribs to the gun
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