Ride Hard

I feel flushed, needy. This is such an unusual feeling for me, the sensations moving through my veins. I’m wet, and it doesn’t help my arousal to smell him all around me, to wear his clothes, to have his body heat seeping into me. I don’t know what I’m doing as I lift my hand and place it on his ever so slightly as I trail my fingers along his knuckles. His fingernails are blunt, clean. But I can see what looks like stains on the digits.

I can picture him working on motorcycles wearing nothing but a dirty white T-shirt, his muscles straining against the material, sweat beading on his big, strong body.

God, I need to stop thinking about him this way. All it’s doing is arousing me, making me needy and want things I’ve never experienced before. I wouldn’t even know what to do with a man like Ride. I’m too naïve, innocent. Even so, I find myself imagining all the filthy, obscene things he probably likes in bed. I picture him dominating me, his body pressed against mine, his hands holding my arms above my head as he pounds into me. It has a flush stealing over me.

I shouldn’t want him.

But I do.

I should push his hand off, move away, but the truth is, I like him being this close to me. I like the feel of his big, hard muscular body pressed to mine. Ride makes me feel safe and protected, like the shitty world I’ve lived in my entire life can’t touch me.

I’m scared, but not because of Ride or this life he leads.

I’m afraid of what I feel for him... of what I want with him.Chapter EighteenRideFuck, this girl is killing me, and she probably has no idea. When I get back to the room, she’s sleeping. It’s early, but I know she’s exhausted, that the events of everything that happened probably caught up with her. I should leave her alone, walk away, but I can’t.

I shed my clothes and slip into the bed with her.

She’s fully clothed, and I hate it. I’m naked, how I always sleep, so it’s not abnormal, and not like I’m trying to be a fucking pervert. I wrap my arm around her and pull her back against me, and I feel how her body tightens involuntarily, as if even in sleep she’s on alert.

I wouldn’t have thought I could fall asleep—not that I’m not tired—because I have so much shit running through my mind. I keep thinking about our circumstances, how we met. Maybe it’s because I’ve been chained in a fucking basement for longer than a sane person could handle, but more than likely, the reason I shouldn’t be able to find peace in sleep is because my arms are full of Langley. But the longer I hold her, the more I feel relaxation and contentment start to claim me. I feel myself sinking into the mattress as my body sheds the bullshit of everything that happened.

And as soon as I start to feel myself fall asleep, reality has me waking up. Langley touching me, moving her fingers over my hand, has me coming alert. That in itself is bad enough, but then she starts moving her sweet little ass against me, rubbing these lush mounds against my cock.

My hard-as-a-rock, ready-to-pound-nails cock.

I deserve fucking sainthood for not grabbing her hips and burying myself balls-deep inside her sweet, wet, and warm cunt. But I don’t do that, and not because I don’t want to. Because fuck, I really do.

When I take Langley, it’ll be because she asks me for it. It’ll be because she begs me to fuck her.

Hell, if she keeps torturing me like this, I might say fuck the waiting, wanting her to plead for it, and just take her.

“Langley, baby,” I growl against her ear, letting my lips trace the shell. Her body freezes, going solid against me, and for some reason that makes me fight a smile. “You keep moving like that, I’m going to fuck that sweet pussy of yours.”

I hear her gasp, the sound loud in the empty room. What she doesn’t do is tell me to do it—which is a fucking shame.

“You should let me go,” she whispers eventually.

“Maybe someday,” I respond and sit up in bed, doing my best to sound bored, even though my body is on fucking fire. “But first, I’m going to bury myself inside of you. And when that happens, because it will, baby girl, I’ll have my fill of you.”

Her body language changes, and I know I’ve succeeded in pissing her off now, which is good. If I’m going to give myself blue balls while forcing Langley to admit she wants me, the least I can do is make her as miserable as I am.

“You’re a jerk,” she huffs, rolling over and holding the sheet close to her body. It’s ridiculous, since she’s fully dressed, but I just shake my head, holding off my grin. Then I get up, walking over to the dresser where I left a tray of fruit and toast earlier. I have the toast covered. It’ll be cold by now, but that doesn’t matter, because at least it’ll put something in her belly. I need to make sure she starts eating better. Langley is hot as hell with a tight little body, but she definitely needs to eat more, to get some of those womanly curves I know she’ll look smoking with. I doubt Einstein cared if she ate at all.