fascinating until my goal was in view. I moved to the door, seeing that it was almost filled to capacity with other women and small children. I guess, Wednesday was the day to do your wash in this town.
Careful to keep up my pretense, I roamed the space finding all the washers engaged. I eyed the other patrons who were watching me carefully in return. I sighed and waved a hand before I went to the bank of connected seats, tucking my backpack underneath my chair and reached for a magazine. I was trying for casual acceptance; just another person who needed to do a load of laundry. But my heart was beating hard, just had it had done from the moment I heard Bayco's hard whisper to flee.
Where was he?
I had no doubt he had won whatever went on in the motel room. I don't know why I felt the confidence in his abilities I hadn't seen tested. But somehow, I knew he'd win over whoever had tried to break in.
I heard the low thrumming growls of his bike and saw him poised at the driveway of the motel. Without a thought, I grabbed my bag and raced out the glass door of the laundry facility. His helmeted, visor down, head turned toward me and I saw him reach out an arm.
I'd never been more grateful to see someone in my life.
Bay!
Sprinting the fifty or more feet to where he waited, I launched myself, twisting at the last moment, my ass hitting the seat before he peeled away, turning left against the flow of intermittent traffic. I knew he couldn't hear me between the noise of the bike or the other traffic on the road, but I had to say it nonetheless.
"Thank god, Bayco," I muttered, tucked up so tight against his tank-top covered back. "Thank you."
I felt his fingers on his left hand reach back and drag along the outside of my thigh.
For all intents and purposes, I took it as his own brand of welcome.
*.*.*.*.*
He was caught in a dream he hadn't had in years. Of Nadia, his woman, pressed against him as they slept. Her sweet curves called him, her hills inviting his touch as he moved on her, pressing, rubbing. The want he'd felt for her had always been a silver thread with the need shimmering just beyond it.
He rubbed the firmest part of himself against her again and felt her immediate response. Oh, how he had missed this; the feel of her sweet, softness beneath him. His hand, overflowing with her breast, moving southward to capture the fullness of her ass as he began to skimmed over her. But as he did so, he was aware of her mouth on his neck, kissing, tonguing his skin.
Nadia never wanted to use her mouth. Not without hesitancy, her lips trembling as she tried so hard to touch his, reaching to find pleasure. Something that she'd never been able to do with confidence.
And to include her tongue with her mouth's movements, never.
Ever.
She said her mouth was dirty, unclean, letting him know with no uncertainty how she had been used in the internment camp. She never kissed him anywhere, not without a lot of pauses and especially never used her tongue. If only just in light touches.
Kissing mouth to mouth had never been but a fraction of what he and Nadia had shared in their private time.
So.
Then.
This wasn't Nadia beneath him, his brain said. But his body, so starved for the connection, a real union, didn't know the difference and didn't want to respond to his thoughts.
To his own cautions.
Reese.
Fuck!
While it may have only been seconds, to him it was a lifetime as his mind screamed at him that this wasn't what he wanted, even though his body and heart were murmuring a different story. A tale he wanted to complete, to sink into even as his mind wrenched him to the other side of the mattress.
He moved as quickly as possible, disconnecting until he was completely on his back. Without thinking he lifted a hand to his face to erase the embarrassment of making a move on her, even if it was it the grips of a dream he couldn't control. Just as he was
Careful to keep up my pretense, I roamed the space finding all the washers engaged. I eyed the other patrons who were watching me carefully in return. I sighed and waved a hand before I went to the bank of connected seats, tucking my backpack underneath my chair and reached for a magazine. I was trying for casual acceptance; just another person who needed to do a load of laundry. But my heart was beating hard, just had it had done from the moment I heard Bayco's hard whisper to flee.
Where was he?
I had no doubt he had won whatever went on in the motel room. I don't know why I felt the confidence in his abilities I hadn't seen tested. But somehow, I knew he'd win over whoever had tried to break in.
I heard the low thrumming growls of his bike and saw him poised at the driveway of the motel. Without a thought, I grabbed my bag and raced out the glass door of the laundry facility. His helmeted, visor down, head turned toward me and I saw him reach out an arm.
I'd never been more grateful to see someone in my life.
Bay!
Sprinting the fifty or more feet to where he waited, I launched myself, twisting at the last moment, my ass hitting the seat before he peeled away, turning left against the flow of intermittent traffic. I knew he couldn't hear me between the noise of the bike or the other traffic on the road, but I had to say it nonetheless.
"Thank god, Bayco," I muttered, tucked up so tight against his tank-top covered back. "Thank you."
I felt his fingers on his left hand reach back and drag along the outside of my thigh.
For all intents and purposes, I took it as his own brand of welcome.
*.*.*.*.*
He was caught in a dream he hadn't had in years. Of Nadia, his woman, pressed against him as they slept. Her sweet curves called him, her hills inviting his touch as he moved on her, pressing, rubbing. The want he'd felt for her had always been a silver thread with the need shimmering just beyond it.
He rubbed the firmest part of himself against her again and felt her immediate response. Oh, how he had missed this; the feel of her sweet, softness beneath him. His hand, overflowing with her breast, moving southward to capture the fullness of her ass as he began to skimmed over her. But as he did so, he was aware of her mouth on his neck, kissing, tonguing his skin.
Nadia never wanted to use her mouth. Not without hesitancy, her lips trembling as she tried so hard to touch his, reaching to find pleasure. Something that she'd never been able to do with confidence.
And to include her tongue with her mouth's movements, never.
Ever.
She said her mouth was dirty, unclean, letting him know with no uncertainty how she had been used in the internment camp. She never kissed him anywhere, not without a lot of pauses and especially never used her tongue. If only just in light touches.
Kissing mouth to mouth had never been but a fraction of what he and Nadia had shared in their private time.
So.
Then.
This wasn't Nadia beneath him, his brain said. But his body, so starved for the connection, a real union, didn't know the difference and didn't want to respond to his thoughts.
To his own cautions.
Reese.
Fuck!
While it may have only been seconds, to him it was a lifetime as his mind screamed at him that this wasn't what he wanted, even though his body and heart were murmuring a different story. A tale he wanted to complete, to sink into even as his mind wrenched him to the other side of the mattress.
He moved as quickly as possible, disconnecting until he was completely on his back. Without thinking he lifted a hand to his face to erase the embarrassment of making a move on her, even if it was it the grips of a dream he couldn't control. Just as he was
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