“You want to go out,” Tory remarked, not sure how good of an idea that was.
“I want to show you my social distancing machine,” he said with a grin.
Harlan led her to a door in the elevator bay that led to the garage. His matte black Ducati motorcycle purred in its kickstand, reverberating wildly in the empty garage. He swung his leg over it and sat, Tory straddled the warm cycle and was thrilled by the vibration.
Upon the rumble and roar of the cycle, she held him for the first time, and they flew over empty lengths of highway, the city an amazing blur. Light and alien emptiness. Her hands carefully explored Harlan’s body as the cycle roared between her legs. In that moment, she knew what she wanted exactly from life, and she knew where she wanted it to start.
The cycle glided over a bridge into Queens County, giving Tory a view of the river, and into the windows of nice bright Midtown properties. In Long Island City they paused to take in the view before riding back into the city.
Wrapping herself around more fully, him holding him tighter, she closed her eyes and lived in the pure sensation of their closeness, the movement of air and growl of the engine.
Alone in her thoughts, her mind spun fantasies, never dared. It had seemed that truly opening the door to her sexuality, had brought on a boldness of thought as well. The iGo Icon was child’s play in comparison to her work which more often than not, appeared in dimensions larger than a thumbnail.
Mahira was right when she said Harlan had turned their resumes into gold, she thought. For the first time in her life, she envisioned herself in parts of the world far from the cheese state: London, Vancouver, Tokyo.
She opened her eyes and became firmly grounded in the present moment. Passing streets that had already become familiar, they turn and Harlan steers them down the ramp into the garage.
In the elevator, Harlan pressed for his floor then gently took off Tory’s helmet and looked at her eyes, full of delight and mystery. He smiled at her as he took off his own helmet.
“I don’t know another way to say this. And I don’t think I’d like to say this another way,” Harlan said just above a whisper, “I want you. All the time.”
The elevator opened to his lounge. Harlan stepped down first and walked over to his Smart TV and put his phone in the stand atop.
“Music,” Harlan prompted. “No Pussyfooting, Eno and Fripp.”
As the spacey synth and guitar composition bloomed from the speakers, Tory began to slowly walk down the four steps, looking out upon the city light while taking her suede jacket off.
Seeing her there above the room on the second step, he threw his own jacket off, and rushed to her before she could take another step. Harlan buried his face in her crotch, his hands roughly squeezing her firm young ass.
He searched for her scent through the fabric. She trembled slightly, feeling the frenzy in his fingers as he struggled briefly with the snap and peeled the tight jeans over her thighs once again. Suddenly she found herself over Harlan’s shoulder, her jeans coiled at her ankles, one hand running the smooth length of her thighs while the fingers of the other rubbing their way beneath her thong.
Down the two remaining steps, Harlan put her down, her back on the sofa. She looked at him as he stripped out of his pants, his huge erection popped up and out of his briefs as he kicked them away, muscles of his arms and shoulders in bold relief under the cool white glow of the skyline.
As he lifted her ankles above her head, Tory moaned, and Harlan pushed his fingers into her mouth. He pulled them out and kissed her hard while slowly curling his saliva moistened fingers in and out of the swelling folds of her sex.
Harlan pulled her sweater up over her head and let the fabric hold her wrists above her out of the way, he freed her breasts and started to firmly rub her nipples in turn between his thumb and forefinger.
Tory’s breathing became ragged gasps as she’d rhythmically begun to push herself up, offering him more. Unable to control himself further Harlan took hold of her legs just below the knee and drove himself as deeply into Tory as he could, bearing down on her with his full weight as they kissed and kissed.
He began thrusting, faster, harder, then faster still, pinning her to a spot in the universe that was his over and over. Her moans drove him on. When she’d started to hotly beg “fuck me,” Harlan had to fight his own orgasm in order to bear hers.
“Fuck yeah,” he grunted. “I love your hot, curvy body. I love when you cum for me. You’re amazing.”