“About a handful.”
He got off the bike. “Alright, Belle Hawkins. Show me what you got.”
Grabbing the extra helmet from his hands, I put it on while I jumped on the seat. Kicking the stand, I hit the accelerator and brakes at the same time, causing the front tire to pop straight up into a perfect wheelie. I didn’t have to look over at him to know he was standing tall and proud. Not wanting to lose any momentum, I displayed all the tricks I knew like the back of my hand. Sliding the bike toward him was my last performance, and I stopped inches away from his feet.
He instantly started clapping. “Kitten, I’m impressed.”
I’d be lying if I said I didn’t love hearing him say that to me. Truth was, I wanted to impress him. Anytime I’d ride around town, I’d think of him.
Even though I didn’t want to.
Even though I fought it.
Even though I hated him.
He was always there with me.
I had to remind myself he wasn’t the guy I thought he was, the one I wholeheartedly believed I knew. I shook away the hurt, wanting to stay in the moment with him this time.
Shifting to the back seat, I ordered, “Take me for a ride, Mr. Hawkins.”
He didn’t have to be told twice, hopping on. For the next hour, we drove all over the island. It was amazing. Everything it used to be for us was still there, breathing new life into our marriage. We were back to being those kids again. The one’s who were wild and free. I loved every second of that afternoon with him.
It was perfect.
He was perfect.
Veering off on a secluded road, he hit the kickstand and shut off the engine. In one swift movement, he turned around and tugged me onto his lap. My legs willingly straddled his waist, Instantaneously recalling all the times we’d talk just like this.
“The more things change,” I stated, “the more they stay the same.”
“You remember the last time you were on the back of my bike?”
“Hmm…” I played coy. “I’m not entirely sure. Maybe you should refresh my memory.”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
His eyes dilated as he gripped onto the back of my neck as he kissed my lips. Clutching onto the side of my face with his other hand, he lightly bit my bottom lip. His hands fell to my ass, gripping it nice and tight. The memory of him never compared to real life. I moaned into his mouth, and he groaned into mine. He fisted my hair by the nook of my neck while his other hand glided down the side of my breast to the seam of my panties.
“Please,” I pleaded against his mouth, fully aware he’d love to hear me beg for it.
He roughly jerked my hair back to look into my lust-filled glare. When his fingers slid my panties over, I swallowed hard.
“Fuck.” He touched my pussy. “You’re so wet.”
I leaned in to kiss him again, but he pulled my hair back harder, urging me to stay right where I was, spread wide open for him. It was only then I realized he wanted to watch me fall apart from his skilled, precise fingers. I swear I could have come from the powerful, greedy, loving way he was staring at me. He rubbed back and forth over my clit, causing my body to shudder from his firm, demanding touch.
When he slid two fingers inside of me, I breathed out, “Ahhhh.”
His lips parted like he was feeling everything I was, and all he was doing was watching me fall over the edge for him. He worked me over, finding my g-spot. Creating this ache, this passion, this mind-blowing explosion all over my core.
I tried to keep my fluttering eyes open while he was fingering me roughly.
“That feel good, kitten?”
“Yes,” I panted, completely at his mercy.
“Here?” he taunted, pushing harder against my sweet spot.