Road Games Read online

  “No arguing.” She squeezed my arm. “Come on, I’ve got a little over an hour.” She started toward my bike, strutting confidently across the pavement.

  “Don’t you want to go change first?”

  She turned to face me once she had her hand resting on the black and silver flamed tank. A smirk lifted the corner of her mouth as I approached. “I can manage in this.”

  I was still reeling at the idea and trying to mentally catch up. I wasn’t one who handled loss of control well.

  “You need a helmet, a jacket…”

  “You don’t wear them.” She glanced around quickly and then hitched her skirt up to her upper thighs. With practiced grace, she swung a gloriously long leg over the bike and settled herself on the higher back end of the seat.

  “Come on.” She patted my seat and the smirk grew.

  My throat tightened at the sight of her. Skirt cinched up so high I could see where her stockings met her garter. I flushed, wondering what color her panties were. If I bent my head just a little, I knew I would be able to see them.

  Motherfucker, this is insane.

  She patted the seat again and raised an eyebrow.

  Hurriedly, before I melted from the creaminess of her exposed thighs, I swung my leg over and started the bike. Her arms wrapped around me tightly and her legs were warm and firm against my sides, her grip strong and sure. I walked us to the slanted cement exit and realized that somehow, within the space of twenty minutes, I had lost all control of my evening.

  “Where to?” I asked.

  Her lips brushed my ear. “The air force base.”

  My heart thudded like a caged wild animal within my chest.

  As I pushed off onto the main road, I could tell that she’d ridden before by the way she pushed against me, leaning forward into the wind. She moved her hands up and over my shoulders, gripping me tighter, her breasts firm against my back.

  When we glided onto the freeway, she shrieked into the sunset-streaked sky. It was at that moment that I realized that I didn’t have an average, soft-spoken, married history teacher clinging to my back. No, this was a woman. Flesh and blood, vibrant and wild.

  We pressed on into the night and she clung to me tightly, howling into the wind, loving every second of it.

  My cheeks stung at my own smile. I felt so alive, more alive than I felt during or soon after a job. This new alive was incomparable.

  A purple heaven had settled in by the time we flew along the road beside the air force base. I slowed the bike, unsure, and then followed my headlight as she told me where to pull over.

  The tires kicked up dirt as we turned off the two-lane, little-traveled road. I turned the bike to face the base, killed the engine, and kicked down the stand, leaving us all alone in the dark beneath a fresh, silver-shining moon. The desert smelled fresh and alive, as if it had just been raked by the hands of God.

  I pushed my shades up on my head and sat and stared through the high fence in the distance at the small red dots of the air traffic tower. My body was humming like electricity through a live wire.

  Vivian’s hands were on my thighs and her voice once again stirred my insides.

  “That was some ride.”

  The wind blew a few strands of her hair against my cheek, startling me. They smelled like her perfume, like the raw sexiness of a woman, contained in a bottle. I closed my eyes as her hands traveled up my thighs, over my middle to my breasts. I shuddered, truly startled.

  “I want you, Diem.” Her hot tongue flicked my ear as she squeezed my nipples. A soft cry of surprise escaped me and my center flooded with arousal.

  “I have always wanted you.”

  I’d had no idea. None. She had always been friendly and professional. And now she was against my back, straddling my bike, touching me with her burning hands and flaming words. My heart thudded in my ears. I remembered the close scrutiny of her eyes in the convenience store, when I realized that she knew. And then it all made sense.

  “Mmm,” she groaned, grinding herself against me. A fighter jet took off, screaming and rushing right over our heads, a phantom in the darkness, and I jerked under her hands. The wind of the jet actually blew against us, heightening all that she was doing.

  “Yes,” she growled, rolling my hardening nipples with her fingers.

  I cried out again and her teeth found my naked neck as her warm hands inched up my shirt to massage my exposed breasts. “You feel so good,” she crooned, nipping at me, driving me wild. “It’s been so long. So long since I’ve felt another woman.” Her tongue pushed into my ear and her hand rubbed at the denim seam in my crotch.

  “Oh God, Diem. I can feel how hot you are.”

  I leaned into her, my head tossed back, overcome with pleasure. She sucked on my shoulder, hard and determined. Then she pulled away as another jet soared loudly overhead. I felt her absence against my back, cold and empty. I opened my eyes, not realizing they were closed, and watched as she moved from behind me, bunching her skirt up over her hips. Sheer stockings covered her long legs up to her thighs, where a dark garter belt held them in place. I swallowed hard, realizing there were no panties, just the dark blond, neatly trimmed hair of her pussy.

  Instinctively, I scooted back and she swung her leg over the bike to straddle it just in front me. She licked her lips, hungry eyes fastened to mine as she unbuttoned her blouse. Grinning, she eased out of it, plucked the sunglasses off her head, and then turned to hang them both over the handlebars. Next she unlatched her dark bra, which matched her garter, and flung it over the other handlebar.

  Her gaze held mine for a long moment, and I knew she was enjoying my attention. My face was burning white-hot with desire and my chest was rising and falling fast with my hastened breathing.

  She took my hands and placed them on her warm breasts, whispering, “Touch me.”

  My body burned so fierce I thought I’d glow in the dark as I squeezed and massaged her small breasts. She threw her head back in pleasure, gripping my shoulders tightly.

  “Suck me, baby. Put your mouth on me.” She lifted herself up to me. I extended my tongue to lick and flick at her firm nipple. Her hands knotted in my hair. “Oh God, hurry. Please suck me.”

  Eagerly, I lifted the small weight of her breast and took it into my mouth, sucking hard. She clawed at my scalp and howled like a coyote crying into the night. My shades fell from my head, but I didn’t care, nothing else mattered. I sucked and swirled my tongue around her, feasting on her breasts while she thrust herself into me. I worked her nipples with my teeth over and over again.

  Face heated and lips swollen, I tore my mouth away from her, needing to breathe. She sat heaving in front of me, her wet breasts catching the red lights of another departing jet. Her hair flew in the wind and she looked like a wild creature of the night, hungry and willing to do anything to feed.

  She raised her hands to her slick breasts and caressed them as she began to undulate, rubbing her bare sex against the seat, her bunched skirt like a halo around her waist.

  “Mmm,” she moaned, biting her lower lip. “This feels so good.” She arched her back and quickened her hips, her knees bending to bring her feet up off the ground. Her skin was bathed in the silver of the moon, rocking, straining, pulsing. Between her legs, the folds of her flesh were slick with arousal, wetting the seat as she writhed. “I’m so close,” she whispered. “I almost came three different times on the way here. I love the way the bike feels, the way you feel.”

  The easy accessible skirt was the reason she hadn’t wanted to change. And as I watched her fuck my bike in her stockings and garter and heels, nothing in the world could’ve turned me on more.

  She leaned forward and fastened her mouth on mine as the sound of jets echoed through the desert. Her tongue was long and fierce, pushing against mine for dominance. Her mouth was blazing and demanding, letting me know just how close she was to breaking. Running my hands over her bare flesh, I eased her back against the tank of the bike. She wre
nched her mouth away and stared up at me, eyes flashing in the moonlight. Carefully, I scooted back to the very edge of the seat and ran my hands down over her breasts and stomach.

  Feeling the tickle of silken hairs, I glanced down at her wet, shimmering flesh. Her cunt was swollen, glistening, waiting.

  I closed my eyes as I dipped and explored her wetness, just wanting to concentrate on feeling it.

  So hot, so slick. Jesus.

  A strong hand gripped my wrist as she urged, “Hurry.”

  She arched as my fingers slid up and inside. I groaned at the wet, tight feel of her and nearly came against the seam of my jeans.

  “Do you feel me?” She sat up and gripped my shoulders. Her hips began their magical dance again, fucking my fingers.

  “Yes, I feel you,” I whispered.

  “God, I feel you,” she said between clenched teeth, tossing her head back.

  She thrust harder and harder, riding me fast and frenzied until her cries were short and sweet. And then, just before she came, she stopped. Breathing slowed, she held on to my shoulders and moved so her cunt slid up and down, on and nearly off my fingers, long and slow. Her nails dug into my back as she drew out the pleasure, milking it for every last drop.

  “You like it like this?” I asked, mesmerized.

  “Mmm, yes,” she whispered, sweat lining her upper lip.

  I clamped her shoulder so she couldn’t move, ensuring I was deep inside her. “How about this?” I curled my fingers against her g-spot and rubbed firmly.

  “Oh God,” she rasped. “Mmm…” She sped up again, grinding and writhing, bucking her hips back and forth. “Yes,” she said. “Oh God.” Her eyes clenched shut and her muscles tensed in the moonlight.

  Hand soaked in her excitement, I pressed my thumb against her firm, thick clit. Her nails dug deeper and she made only noises, words long gone.

  Another jet flew overhead and her eyes flew open. She pulled me to her, kissing me with a hard, wet tongue, swirling and taking. Her hips thrust three quick times and then she tore her mouth away, threw her head back, and came into the night sky, jerking and pulsing. Her cry was loud and throaty against the noise of the jet, her body absorbing the pleasure in powerful, uncontrollable undulations.

  “Oh God,” she finally managed to croak, clinging to me, still fucking me for dear life. Her manicured nails pierced my back and her mouth latched to my neck, biting and sucking, groaning against my skin. She held me to her for a long while until her body finally slowed to ride me in long, full, heavy thrusts.

  I closed my eyes, too overcome to stop myself. Her nails, her mouth, her teeth, her cunt, all of it clinging to me, driving me over. I rubbed myself against the seat, once, twice, and then shattered into a million pieces, offering them up into the night. She laughed all throaty in my ear, realizing I had lost it, and then kissed me so hard and long I thought I’d pass out.

  Eventually, she pulled her mouth away, parting with short, wet sucks of my lips. Then she rested her cheek on my shoulder and we both just listened to one another breathe. We stayed like that, holding fast to one another in the dark quiet. After another jet broke the peaceful sky and flew away, she stirred, lightly kissing her way up to my face.

  “Diem?”

  “Yes?”

  “Can we ride home like this?”

  I chuckled. “Not if you want to actually make it home in one piece.”

  Her eyes found mine and her hands held my face. “Why did you leave?”

  I glanced away. “That’s another story for another night.”

  She seemed to understand that I didn’t or couldn’t talk about it at that moment.

  “Can I see you again?”

  I looked back to her. My breath nearly caught at the sight of her flushed, vibrant face, full lips, and daring eyes.

  “Maybe.”

  “It’s a little late to play hard to get.”

  She still seemed able to pin me with her words. Who would’ve guessed what lay just under the surface of this seemingly conservative, married teacher? Or boxer-brief boy, who was married, successful, and attended church regularly? No one really truly knows someone else. It’s all an illusion.

  “Come on.” I moved from the bike to hand her her clothes. Then I bent and picked up my shades. “Let’s get you home. I bet your kids miss you.” I didn’t want to get attached or make promises I knew I didn’t want to keep. She was a strong, confident woman, the first one who’d ever assumed control over me. It was as unsettling as it was exciting.

  She smoothed her skirt back down a little and fastened her bra, then slipped into her blouse.

  “My kids are fine.” He eyes flashed. “Mommy needs a little fun every now and then too.” She finished buttoning her blouse and swung her leg over the bike.

  I slung my leg over and started the bike. Her teeth held my lobe and her fingers pinched my nipples, ensuring that I couldn’t and wouldn’t move.

  “There’s no sense in running, Diem.” Her voice played in my ear, igniting me once again. “I’m not finished with you yet. Not by a long shot.”

  She released me and licked my neck, long and slow back up to my ear. “Now, take me back hard and fast. I want to come one more time before I go home.”

  Circuit

  Evecho

  Leti thumbed the worn suede of her favorite wallet; crepe thin and supple, it slipped easily into the rear pocket of her jeans on a nudge and hugged the melon curve of her arse, leaving no lines to mark the nakedness underneath. She was dressed minimally for maximum effect: white on black, open topped in a singlet with one-inch straps trailing over the packs of her shoulders and in and out of the sloping crevasses of her collar. Square chest muscles built beyond the edge of the white bands flexed in support of iron arms. She was ripped like a brick mountain and she had brought the payoff here—a honey trap in the form of a Friday night gay bar.

  As she leaned in to signal the bartender for a second draught, a cheerful drawl with hints of countries farther south than the Gulf intruded from the side.

  “That good, eh?” It was a curvy, clipped accent that could turn her hot and cold in a switch. Leti ignored the comment but straightened her neck, her booted foot landing on the chrome pipe below.

  Dirk had been admiring Leti’s impressive physique from the moment she trod up the stairs to stake a berth by the benchtop. Leti stood on chunky legs with one hand pressed into her waist. Her index finger just dipped into the seam of her back pocket and the rest fanned along the upper indent of her buttocks, nicely pushing her succulent buns out. Her ribbed top was stretched by precision slabs of muscle shifting like oiled plates below the surface of her pale skin, except where the material fell into her lean waist. The image worked.

  “I’ll carry her tab,” Dirk instructed the keep.

  “No, thanks.” Leti kept her tone neutral and her gaze on the bottles. “I can buy my own.”

  “Dressed like that, I’d buy you anything you want.”

  Leti clenched her jaw to stop a retort, but her nostrils flared and her neck muscles tensed. Her grip on the glass tightened all the way up her arm.

  “Hey, sorry if I offended you, kid.” Dirk was not at all apologetic.

  “I am not a kid,” Leti growled. “I haven’t been for a long time. You know that.”

  “I remember when you looked a lot different.”

  Leti set her glass down with a determined thud and cut her gaze toward the voice. Dirk had soft styled hair that flopped long over her face but stayed short in the neck. In a long-fingered gesture, she pushed one side back over her ear, only for the other side to draw down in recompense. Brown strands slid over each other, dark and rich as rum. Inviting. It was enough for Leti to notice the wide mouth and sharp jawline underneath.

  Bluntly, she said, “I’m not selling.”

  Unsurprised by the answer, Dirk replied calmly, “My unlucky day, then.” Her shot glass alighted empty onto the bar. The bartender exchanged it for a fresh drink at her nod. “Thank
s, mate. Her drinks are on me.” She swiveled her bar stool away from the liquor display and touched her feet to the sticky wooden floor. Off the seat, she was a little taller than Leti.

  “Don’t worry,” she said, still with that inscrutable half-smile. “I’m only interested in what you’re not selling.” Then she slipped away into the depths of the club.

  Leti barely heard the words, mesmerized as she always was by the attractive disparity of Dirk’s wide mouth set in an angular jaw, and agile lips that could shape anything. The other parts of her appreciated the symmetry of shoulders, square to hips, unbroken by breasts in the GQ fit of a long-sleeved tee. Lined neatly into the waistband, a slim belt buckle shone against the darkness of Dirk’s black trousers—a loose lock to flat hips—one she would like to feel digging into her back.

  An unmistakable tightening had gripped her below the waist upon hearing that voice. Unusually beautiful gender-fooling women, like Dirk, were her weakness, and Dirk had been inspecting her with an appetite.

  Shit, she had just blown an opportunity.

  Leti sat for several minutes, slowly draining her beer and a tingling awareness. The apologetic rejection still prickled under her skin. She could have a bevy of offers tonight, but all she wanted was to hit her knees for a smooth urban butch. It had been too long and Leti was hungry for it. They would find each other again later. That was how they always played it.

  Unsolicited feathery brushes swept Leti’s back coyly, drawing her out of her mood. In response, she dropped her left hand and traced the swell of hips under a frock. The woman behind was salsa-ing a vigorous cocktail into her back. At her accepting touch, thong-cuffed buttocks swiveled firmly into the seat of her palm, and the dance changed from tentative to boldly provocative.

  Wet hair whipped her neck as the woman impressed a body mural through gyrations into her rock-steady back. Thighs thick as anchors in black jeans, Leti planted her legs to ground her position. She hooked her arm backward around the petite woman and rolled her shoulder blades into nipples raised by resistance. Her powerful hand spread against the woman’s spine, bringing her in, while her other hand lifted the closest leg up to parallel her own. Supported by Leti’s grasp, the dancing woman reached between them and opened herself up to thrust her cunt repeatedly against the edge of Leti’s bar stool. Long veins mapped up along Leti’s arms and ran tributaries through delts already round and hard as marble. Leti closed her eyes and wished for heavy limbs around her waist, a rough tongue in her ear, and bites hard enough to bring sweet pain.