by Alexis Angel
Shocked gasps and curses hit my ears as I maneuver through the handicap access gate and toward the train platform, my eyes scanning for that bright red hair. A smirk crosses my mouth as I see her, and I coast straight into the car of the train she’s in and park my bike. I stay sitting on it, leaning forward on the handlebars as she turns toward me, green eyes wide.
“What the hell?”
I laugh. She almost looks indignant. Like my bike on the train is offensive. Shrugging, I let my eyes roam her body. Black boots, black skirt, faded t-shirt that hugs her like a second skin. Hot.
The flush that travels up her pale neck makes me want to rake my teeth across that perfect skin and leave marks. And when I see the edge of some intricate ink peeking out of the low neckline of that shirt, all I want to do is rip it off her and see what else is hiding under there.
“You can’t have that thing on here,” she bites out, her eyes a mix of irritation and intrigue. And possibly a bit of lust—or maybe that’s me.
“That thing,” I throw back, “is my true love.” I caress the body of my bike. I don’t expect her to get it. Most chicks don’t. “Ain’t no way I’m leaving her out on the street all night.”
She bites her lip, and fuck! All I want to do is drag her onto my lap and take those lips between my own teeth, biting down until she’s writhing in my arms.
“I guess I don’t blame you. She’s gorgeous.” Little Miss Sex on a Stick takes a step toward me and shocks the hell out of me when she runs her hands over the tank of my baby.
“You know bikes?”
Her eyes flick up to mine briefly, then down to my leather jacket, where the emblem of my club is inscribed, along with my name. “Maybe…Blaze?”
I nod, now intrigued myself. From the way she’s now checking out my bike more than me, it’s obvious she’s a biker chick. Or maybe was once.
“Wanna take a ride?”
Now those green eyes are back on mine, confused.
“Isn’t it broken down?”
I watch her intently until she starts to shift, uncomfortable by my scrutiny. And that flush is back.
I can’t resist. I reach out and trail a finger down that smooth throat, my fingertips brushing the edge of her tattoo. Her breath comes a little faster, and I smile.
“What makes you think I’m talking about the bike?”
Her tongue darts out to lick her bottom lip as her eyes glance around the nearly empty car. Just then, the train whips around a corner and she loses her balance, her arms flying out to grasp my bike to keep from falling.
Without a second thought, my hands wrap around her hips and haul her toward me, spinning her around until she’s seated sideways in front of me on my bike.
Her breath comes out on a gasp, and the little sound makes me hard in an instant. “Thanks,” she murmurs, her eyes now focused on me alone. Just the way I want it.
I smile, not bothering to move my hands from her hips. Not wanting her to move from where she is.
“What’s your name, Red?”
“Ginger.” Her voice comes out low and throaty. And there is no doubt she is just as turned on as I am.
“Ginger.” I grin wickedly. Of course she is. “Now, how about that ride?”
8
Ginger
Holy shit.
Is this really happening right now? Surely I’m already back home and dreaming about this sexy biker that has me wrapped in his arms, his fingers digging into my hips, dangerously close to my ass. Because my skirt is also riding dangerously high.
There is no way this can be real. My train fantasy, courtesy of Adrienne, is not only coming true but with the kind of guy I only let myself pretend I can have? No way that’s real.
But his warm breath brushing across my neck and the shivers it sends down my spine feel pretty damn real.
“Now, how about that ride?” Blaze asks.
Oh god. Yes, please!
To my total shock, I find myself grinning teasingly up at him. “Only if I get to be in charge.”
Something growly rises up his throat, and I feel it right at the top of my thighs, a pulsing throb of need making me lose all good sense.
His fingers tighten on me in response. “Ride away, baby.”
I swing a leg over the bike, shifting with his hands still on me until I’m straddling the bike in front of him. He’s pushed right up against my ass, and holy shit, he is hard.
I barely manage to keep the excited gasp contained, and to my complete embarrassment, I find myself pushing back against him and wiggling.
“There you go,” he chuckles. “Make yourself comfortable.”
I can’t even wrap my head around what I’m doing, but I can’t seem to stop, so I go with it. Somehow this fantasy man come to life is too much for me and I can’t make myself think rationally.
“Have you ridden before?” Blaze murmurs against my neck, sending another shiver through me.
Not sure if he’s talking about the bike or…well, other things, I go with an answer that covers both bases. “It’s been a while.”
“Hmm.” He takes his hands from my hips and runs them down my arms until his huge hands grip mine and stretch them out until I’m leaning way, way forward on the bike to reach the handles. The movement has my back arched and my ass pushed even further back into him.
“Let me refresh your memory, then,” Blaze continues. He grabs first one booted foot, then the other, and places them up on the bike until the only thing keeping us upright is him. But I’m not worried. I got a good look at those muscular thighs. This guy is big, in every way. And somehow, against every bit of reason, against everything about him that screams danger, I trust that he’s got me.
Once my legs are in place, thighs gripping the body of the bike, he lets his hands run up from my boots, trailing roughly along my thighs until they come to rest right at the top.
“There you go,” he says, squeezing my thighs, “grip it just like that between your legs.”
I do what he says, squeezing my legs even tighter, glad at the moment that I have something between my legs. Because the pressure building in my core is out of control. I wiggle around a little, trying to get a little friction from the bike on my clit, nearly out of my mind with desire as his thick cock presses against my ass when I move.
“So, Ginger.” The way my name rolls off his tongue, as if it’s a tease, has me turning my head to look at him over my shoulder. I can’t decide if that’s a mistake or not because the depths of his eyes have gone totally black with the same lust that I feel.
“Yeah?” I breathe, not sure what is actually going on. I’m trading innuendos with a total stranger, not so subtly grinding on his cock, and hoping his fingers on my thighs inch their way a little higher. And I can’t remember why it’s a bad idea.
“You often take rides from strangers?”
I laugh, his double meaning not lost on me. “Well, this isn’t actually a ride, is it?” I tease. “But yeah, rides from strangers are supposed to be bad.”
He grunts, his fingers digging into my legs again, the tips trailing under the hem of my skirt. “So bad.”
His lips aren’t even an inch from my neck, and I tilt my head, inviting him in. He doesn’t hesitate. And his teeth nip at my sensitive skin, followed my the tease of his tongue, my eyes flutter closed, blocking out the sight of the other passengers on the train.
I moan, shamelessly grinding on him and his bike, and his fingertips move stealthily under my skirt, brushing against my panties.
Blaze hisses, lifting his lips to my ear. “You are so fucking wet.”
His words only make me wetter, and I’m about to lose all sense of time and place as he continues to stroke me through the lacy fabric.
But then the train jerks to a stop, throwing me forward on the bike. The doors whoosh open, and there’s movement as people exit and board the train. I’m jerked back to my senses just as quickly.
What the hell was I thinking? I was about to let this total
stranger make me cum on the train? Holy shit.
My face flaming, I jump from the bike, looking around frantically. This is so not me. I must have just gotten carried away after hearing about Adrienne’s crazy antics.
With one last look at that ruggedly gorgeous face that’s now twisted in confusion, I bolt, so glad that I live in a city of millions of people where I will certainly never see any of the people on this train again.
9
Blaze
Walking around the bike show, I laugh and joke with people, trying to focus on doing my job of networking. But it’s really fucking hard when all I can think about is Ginger and her tight little body pressed up against me on the train last night.
She left me staring after her in shock, the look of panic on her face confusing me after the brazen way she’d acted just moments before.
My eyes scan the crowd as I talk to one of the show sponsors, barely paying attention to what he’s saying. Something about partnering for an ad campaign later in the year. I know I should be listening—that’s what I’m here for, to network and grow my bike brand—but I can’t help hoping I’ll see her here.
I know it’s a long shot. I mean, what are the chances of her being at the show? But I could tell that girl had a thing for bikes. The way she climbed on board and hugged the body of my bike? It definitely wasn’t her first ride.
I grin at the memory of trading innuendos with her. Then get hard all over again as I recall just how fucking sexy she was grinding against me, her pussy so wet when I ran my fingers over her lacy panties.
Gritting my teeth, I try to tamp down the desire coursing through my body and zero in on this dude who is spouting something about commercials and television and some other shit.
But it doesn’t last long when I see a flash of bright red hair about fifty feet away.
“Excuse me,” I say to the guy, clapping him on the back and not even looking at him as I start to walk away. “I’ll have my people get back to you.”
I should be more concerned that I leave him gaping after me, but I’m not. All I can focus on is covering the distance between me and the sexy redhead that I’m now sure is Ginger.
Long legs, spike-heeled boots, short leather skirt? Hell fucking yeah.
Her back is to me, but I know it’s her. That throaty laugh would be a dead giveaway if that body wasn’t enough. I feel it go straight through me, inciting some kind of primitive lust to claim her that I can’t begin to understand.
All I can think is it must be leftover sexual frustration from last night. But that doesn’t explain why she’s been on my mind for every second of the past twelve hours.
“I’m so glad it’s everything you expected,” she’s saying to a couple of men she’s talking to, one a douche in a suit, the other a burly biker with a beard to his waist who looks like he’s straight out of an old-school biker gang. One-hundred-percent accurate descriptions because I know these jokers personally.
“Red,” I say smoothly, sidling up next to her and slinging my arm around her shoulders, “what are you doing hanging out with these assholes?”
Ginger turns to me, her eyes huge, while the suit grimaces.
“Blaze,” he says, his voice dripping with disdain. “Why am I not surprised to see you here?”
I grin but don’t look at him. “I don’t know, Alex. Maybe because you’re only here because of me.”
Letting my fingers trail over Ginger’s smooth skin, I wink at her. “When you’re done over here, why don’t you come with me?”
Alex holds a card out to Ginger, drawing her attention away from me—which pisses me the fuck off—and says, “Think about what I said. I think you’d be a good fit.”
She smiles at him, like a real deal kind of smile, and I grit my teeth. I don’t know what the fuck they’re talking about, but he is not a guy she needs to be talking to. I know that much.
I pull her away, her hand clasped in mine, and drag her around a corner to a little alcove that leads to some offices. When I stop and turn her around, pushing her back up against the wall, caging between my arms, her eyes cloud with that same mix of confusion and desire that seems to undo me.
“What are you doing here?” she says.
I laugh. “At a bike show? That should be fairly obvious.”
She bites her lip. “Looking for a replacement?”
“Something like that.”
Then because I can’t take it any longer, I lean in, dipping my head down for a taste of those luscious lips that I haven’t stopped thinking about since last night.
She sucks in a surprised breath, and I take the opportunity to slip my tongue inside, needing to taste more of her.
That seems to do it because all of a sudden her arms are around my neck, and she’s kissing me back.
10
Ginger
I don’t even care what he’s doing here or how he just dragged me away from my job and shoved me into the corner. All I can bother caring about right now is the way Blaze’s body is totally commanding mine.
His tongue works me over, ravishing my mouth, rough strokes that indicate he’s not the gentle type showing me exactly what it would be like to be stroked by other parts of him.
I moan, wanting that so badly I can hardly think. I twist my fingers into his shaggy hair, pulling his head harder to mine, needing more of this near-violent assault on my body.
Blaze pushes his hips forward, his thick erection pressing against my belly, and I push back, wanting more friction. Wanting more everything.
He growls as he tears his mouth from mine, dragging his teeth down my throat in a movement that causes an exhilarating rush of pleasure mixed with pain.
More.
I don’t realize I’ve said it out loud until he chuckles against my neck, then says, “As you wish, darlin’.”
He moves a hand to my shirt, dragging down the edge of it, exposing my tattoo of a rose in a bed of thorns. Tracing a finger over it, he lifts his eyes to mine and grins. “Nice.”
His lips follow his finger, tracing my tat with his tongue while his hand drops lower, gripping my breast and kneading it roughly. There is nothing gentle about this man. And that has me so wet I can barely stand it.
I grind against him again, and the next thing I know, he’s hauling me up against him, hoisting me up until I wrap my legs around his waist. Then he starts walking. I don’t even care where he takes me as long as he keeps touching me like he is.
I hear the click of a door, then the sound of it slamming behind us, and the next thing I know Blaze is laying me out on a desk. I look around and realize it’s my co-worker’s office. One who won’t be here this weekend.
Part of me thinks I need to put on the breaks. Blaze is not the kind of guy who goes slow. I can tell if he wants something, he’ll take it. And right now he wants to take me.
But I don’t want to stop. I want him to take me right up to the edge and then fly right over.
“Blaze,” I whimper, my hips squirming as I watch him shrug out of his leather jacket and hover over me, his intent clear in his eyes.
“Do you want this, Ginger?”
Despite never having done something so wild, so reckless, before in my life, I realize that I do. I want him, and I want him now.
“Yes,” I say, my voice firm, not at all uncertain.
He smirks, a devilish glint in his eyes, and says nothing as he reaches his hand up my skirt and slips his fingers right up under the fabric of my drenched panties.
“Fuck,” he growls. “So wet.”
I bite my lip and whimper as he rolls his thumb around my throbbing clit, but my eyes stay focused on him, taking in his dark eyes, his black hair, his knowing smirk as he works me over. When he slips two fingers inside my pussy, I clamp down on them, desperate for him to fill me up, to pump into me until I cum all over him.
“That’s it, baby. Ride my hand.” Blaze fumbles with his belt with his other hand then pulls his massive cock free. He wraps his fist around it
and pumps it up and down, and just the sight of how thick and hard he is sends me over the edge.
I cum hard, crying out his name, my pussy convulsing, bright bolts of lightning shooting through my body as his fingers work magic inside of me.
He grits out something I can’t make out, and then he’s coming too, hot white jets shooting out of his huge cock, spraying all over my thighs. It’s so fucking hot—so much hotter than anything that I’ve ever experienced before—that I cum again. His fingers have never left my pussy, and he grins up at me as I clench around him over and over again.
“Dammit, Red, you are so fucking sexy.”
I just lie there and stare up at him, too sated and too shocked for words.
Blaze finds a stash of tissue and cleans himself up, then tucks himself away, then he starts cleaning me up.
I watch, slowly coming back to reality. Good sense taking over me again. What the hell did I just do? I let a complete stranger take me into an office and have his way with me. I didn’t even try to resist. I wanted it. I’m halfway horrified, halfway turned on beyond belief, even though he just brought me to climax twice.
“What are you doing here?” He repeats my earlier question once he has me all cleaned up. Reaching for my hands, he pulls me up from the desk and adjusts my clothes for me. A gesture that seems sweet for a guy that just basically had a quickie with a total stranger in an office.
“I work here at the convention center,” I say with a shrug. Then for some reason, I tell him what I haven’t told anyone. “But I’m hoping to make some connections today that might help me out.”
His brow wrinkles. “Help with what?”
I find it odd that we’re having this conversation right now, but he seems genuinely interested. Like he wants to know more about me.
I shrug again. “I coordinate events. But you weren’t wrong when you asked if I know bikes. I do. I’m hoping I can make a move into the industry.”