“It can’t be that fucking asshole. No way,” Killyama said.
“It’s Stud!” Fat Louise exclaimed.
Chapter Eight
Sex Piston couldn’t believe that Stud was the man on the stage, who her and her crew had been cheering on minutes before.
“Why didn’t he tell everyone he was a racer or that he was riding this weekend?” Fat Louise asked.
Watching the everlasting kiss on stage, Sex Piston started getting pissed, and she didn’t know why.
“Probably afraid he would lose and didn’t want to be embarrassed,” Crazy Bitch said snidely.
“Don’t think he was too worried about losing the way he can ride. I can’t stand the fucker, but he can ride a bike,” Killyama said with reluctant admiration in her voice.
“Let’s go; I want to beat this crowd out of here.” Sex Piston turned on her heel, intending to leave when she ran into a hard chest that was blocking her path.
“Enjoy the show?” Pike asked.
“I was,” Sex Piston said, trying to go around the biker.
“Why don’t you guys come with me and we can go congratulate Stud on his win?” Pike looked over Sex Piston’s shoulder. She turned to see that Stud was trying to leave the stage, but several fans had stopped his progress.
“I think he’s getting enough praise without us.” Sex Piston jerked her head to the women and men trying to get closer.
“We can go backstage. I have a pass.” Without waiting for her answer, he took her arm and led her through the crowd.
Sex Piston tried to jerk away, not wanting to see Stud. “Wait…”
Pike ignored her, propelling her through the crowd with a strength she couldn’t get away from as much as she tried. Her crew followed, wide-eyed, trying to keep up with them despite the heavy crowd. Pike wound his way through the crowd before coming to a barrier where he flashed a pass and the guard stepped away, allowing them entrance.
He stopped the rest of her crew before they could pass. “Wait, he’s not letting the others pass through.”
Sex Piston tried harder to get away, but Pike kept her moving forward.
“I’ll go back for them in a minute,” he promised.
A corridor led to a room where several of the bikers were standing around talking to each other. Pike stopped when Stud saw them. Sex Piston watched Stud leave the biker he was chatting with, coming immediately toward her. She stopped struggling against Pike’s hold, not wanting to embarrass herself in front of him.
“Enjoy the race, Sex Piston?” She felt his eyes slide over her body.
She was wearing a tight, black, leather jumpsuit with a silver zipper up the front which she had left unzipped to show the cleavage between her breasts, and black boots that came to her thighs. Her hair was fluffed out and curled. She had felt a lot of male eyes on her during the night, but none of them had aroused her to the extent that Stud’s quick glance had evoked within her body.
“I’ve seen better,” she lied.
She saw the happiness in his eyes. It was such a stark contrast to the usual bored expression they held. Sex Piston didn’t think there wasn’t much in life that Stud hadn’t experienced. The race must have given him the adrenaline rush that was missing from his life.
Sex Piston felt Pike move at her back.
“Tell her crew Sex Piston is riding home with me,” Stud told Pike.
She turned to stop him, but he had disappeared in the milling crowd before she could.
“I didn’t say that I would ride home with you,” she tried to argue with Stud.
“I didn’t ask.” Taking her by the arm, he led her down the corridors until he came to a double door watched by a guard.
“Great race, Wyatt.”
“Thanks.”
Going through the metal doors, Sex Piston saw the crowd waiting. Women rushed forward, trying to get his autograph, and two security guards had to help them maneuver through the large crowd. Stud got on his bike, waiting for Sex Piston to get on. Reluctantly, with the crowd watching, she climbed on behind him before taking the helmet he held out for her. Stud then started the motor and pulled out slowly until he came to the road, merging into the busy Louisville traffic.
It was dark outside and the lights made the city beautiful. The bike took a turn and soon they were gaining speed on the interstate heading home. She was thankful the leather outfit she wore kept her warm; it was a three-hour drive home. When they stopped for gas, Stud had pulled out a leather jacket from his saddlebag for her to put on.
Sex Piston enjoyed the ride, confident in his abilities even before she had seen him race tonight.
They drove through a quiet Jamestown. Sex Piston’s arms around his waist stiffened when he passed the turn off to her street. Stud kept driving, going down another street a couple miles away before turning into a driveway of an older home.