by Mika Lane
He bent and kissed her, soft and exploring, as if asking permission. Her hand drifted to the side of his face, her fingers scraping through his beard scruff. She pulled to feel more of him.
Her nipples throbbed as their lips brushed back and forth, his breath smelling of good red wine and fresh air. When he pressed harder on her mouth, she melted into him, parting her lips to invite his tongue. The contact heated every cell of her body.
A feather of kisses trailed from her collarbone to her ear. She gasped at the blaze of dizzying intensity.
“Aurora.” His voice was a low growl. “Put your hand on my cock.”
She peeked around the waterfront. They were alone at the moment. Roused by the beautiful night and the possible threat of being discovered, she ventured to the fly of his blue jeans.
Placing his hand over hers, he closed her fingers on his girth through the denim. In the dim light, his jaw twitched and his breath quickened.
“Mmmm,” he said. “Aurora.”
Hale grabbed her hands in his. Jumping up, he pulled her to standing. “C’mon.”
He moved quickly, leading her by the hand into the shadow of a nearby tree. Pressing her against it, he kissed her so deeply her knees quivered and a small moan poured from her chest.
He broke off their kiss. “The night I saw you singing at Left Bank,” he whispered into her hair, “I promised myself I’d know you better.”
“You sound very sure of yourself,” she whispered back. His sexy confidence was almost too much to take. Thank goodness for the scratchy, but solid tree behind her. The old oak was the only thing keeping her standing.
Clutching at the hem of his shirt, she moved the fabric so her ravenous hands could find his fevered skin. She dragged her nails over it, and he responded by exploding in goosebumps. His own hands flew to her ass, pulling her in tight against his erection. The length of him throbbed relentlessly against her tummy.
The hem of her dress rose slowly, replaced by a chilling breeze that tickled her own heated skin. His hands cupped her panty-covered ass, fingers digging into her soft flesh. Although she didn’t think it possible, his cock grew harder still.
How does he keep that in his pants?
His fingers wandered from her ass around to her pussy, stroking through her wet panties. A finger breached the lace opening at her upper thigh, sliding along the slit of her sex.
“So fucking wet…”
In rhythm with his stroke, her hips rocked, begging for more attention. Grabbing a handful of his hair, she murmured, “Yes. Just like that.” She greedily maneuvered herself to direct his fingers to her sensitive clit. But when he realized what she was doing, he teased and avoided it.
He pulled back to see her. “What do you want, beautiful?”
She said between breathy gasps, “Please, more. Please. I want to come.”
His thumb found her desperate clit, and the others stirred her tight opening. The double sensation drove her toward her edge, and she rocked against him as her climax built. She burrowed her mouth in his neck to muffle her screams from the passersby walking their dog.
Wave after wave of perfect orgasm burst forth, unlike anything she’d ever experienced.
“So hot,” he said softly as she came down from her release.
She reached up to caress his face and plant a kiss on his mouth.
The hem of her dress dropped back to her knees. In the shadows, one of his fingers went to her lips, and she tasted her salty sex. Her hand returned to Hale’s rigid cock and made short work of his zipper. He was finally freed from the tangle of fabric restraining him.
Her hand found his hot, velvety skin, as she pulled him from his pants. He inhaled sharply, lacing his fingers through her hair as if it were his turn to hang on. She rolled her finger through the precum beading on his tip, sliding the slick fluid around the head of his cock. He fisted her hair more tightly, convulsing from her light touch.
Good god, he’s huge.
Although she’d just experienced probably the best orgasm of her life, her clit throbbed again, her need returning in full force. She slid her hand from the swollen cock head to his base, her fingers unable to span its entire circumference. His cock pulsed as his hips rocked lightly to fuck her grip and her head spun from the effect.
“Stroke me, baby.” His tone was pleading.
She pistoned her hand over his slick cock, and he grabbed her hair tighter. The low moan that escaped his lips made her more determined to please, and she gripped him tighter. His mouth foraged her neck, leaving a love bite that would be on full display the next day.
“Holy shit,” he roared. His hips jerked into her hand one more time. Then he exploded.
Streams of cum landed in Aurora’s hand and dripped through her fingers to the ground. In the dim light she gave him a sexy smile and she lifted a finger to her mouth. She licked his seed like a lollipop.
“Jesus. Next time I come, I want to be inside you,” he rasped as he caught his breath.
If only they were at home—anybody’s home—so she could curl up in his arms and go to sleep. The excitement of the week, the long day, the wine, and her orgasm suddenly reminded her she was exhausted and couldn’t lean up against the tree one more minute.
After he’d recovered for a minute, he spoke. “Let’s go.” He returned his semi-hard cock to his pants. Stepping back, he looked at Aurora. “I can see why they named you after the northern lights.”
Shit.
He reached for her hand. “C’mon.”
They walked back toward the restaurant. After a moment, he said, “Why don’t you come home with me to Sonoma? We can put your bike in my trunk, and I’ll bring you back in the morning.”
She looked at him. What would his home be like?
“Or, if you don’t want to, we can put your bike in my trunk, and I’ll drive you home. It’s kind of late to ride.”
How would it be to spend the night with him? It had been so long…
“I’d like to come home with you.” Her heart raced. Should she stop and get condoms?
Vibrating with delight, she bent to unlock her bike and helmet from the rack outside The Garage, but her fingers fumbled and the keys fell to the soft dirt. Hale scooped them from the ground and took over, deftly unwrapping the cable lock and throwing it over his shoulder. He backed her bike out of the rack, hung her helmet from the handle bar, and wheeled the bike to the sidewalk. He took her hand with his free one, and she joined him without a word.
They strolled across two parking lots, long deserted at that hour, to Hale’s vehicle. Aurora spotted the outline of a car in the darkness, parked several spaces away from the lot’s lone streetlight.
“Where’s your truck?”
“That was a work truck. My car was in the shop, but it’s out now.” He fished through his pockets as they got closer, pressing the key fob’s remote to disable the car alarm and pop open the back of his car.
Not surprisingly, his trunk was full of sports equipment and assorted laundry. He pushed it all to the sides and bent to unlock the bike’s front wheel. Because his gaze was at eye level with Aurora’s ass, he reached out for a sneaky caress.
Tickled by the sensation, she jumped and laughed out loud. “Okay, okay. We need to get going before I fall asleep,” she begged. “I’m exhausted.”
“Yeah, yeah.” He handed her the bike’s front wheel.
After some maneuvering, the bike was in the trunk, save for the front wheel Aurora was holding.
“Can you pass me that wheel?”
He turned toward her. “Aurora, are you okay? Can I get that wheel please?”
But she didn’t move, or say a thing. She just stared at the back of the car.
Hale reached to take the wheel from her. But her hand snapped back, keeping it from him.
She was looking at his license plate: SPDRCR.
“Aurora, is something wrong?” He stood with an extended hand.
“Aurora? You okay?” he repeated.
>
She dropped the wheel to the ground and pushed Hale out of the way, yanking her bike back out of the trunk.
“Aurora, what are you doing? What is going on?”
After she’d wrestled the bike free, her trembling fingers lined up the front wheel and snapped it back into place. She slammed her bike helmet onto her head and climbed onto the seat, her legs shaking so hard he had to catch her when she started to topple over.
Hale raised his voice. “Aurora! What the hell is going on?”
“You—You—” Her voice choked before she could get the words out.
“What? What’s wrong?”
“You’re the asshole who knocked me off my bike.”
“What?”
“You could have killed me!”
He looked even more confused. “That’s impossible. I haven’t hit anyone on a bike, much less you. What is going on here?”
She leaned toward him and matched his raised voice, her fury growing by the second. “You hit me and drove away, you fucking asshole!”
“No, I did not. Are you crazy?”
“No, but the way you drive is crazy. You nicked my front wheel and didn’t even realize it.”
“Oh for christ’s sake, I did no such thing.” He stood in front of her and held her handlebars so she couldn’t leave.
“A car drove away from the scene. The woman who stopped to help gave me the license number.”
She leaned closer to him and her eyes bulged. “That”—she pointed at his car—“is the license of the car that hit me. Right there,” she said, pointing. “S-P-D-R-C-R.” She tried to wrestle the bike from his hands. “Get out of my way.”
“Aurora, please listen to me. This is crazy. Let me give you a lift. It’s too late to ride your bike.”
“No!”
In pure disbelief, he briefly loosened his grip on the handlebars. She took the opportunity to roll out of his reach, and headed for the street.
Hands on his hips, he stood with his mouth open. Then he yelled after her, “Turn on your bike lights!”
“Go to hell!”
The nagging, warning voice was back with a fury. It said:
Fucking BMW-driving douchebag.
Why hadn’t she listened before? Why?
Chapter 10
Aurora dragged her sorry self to work the next day, anger seething from every pore. What had she been thinking? It was far too soon to get involved with anyone; no way was she ready. And thank freaking god she’d found out who that creep really was before she’d gotten in any deeper.
And the nerve of him. Did he really think he thought he could knock someone off their bike and get away with it? Maybe she’d report him to the police. Yeah, she might just do that.
And to make matters worse, the finger banging she’d received from him the night before under the tree left her just sore enough that she had to ride her bike standing on the pedals.
Hard to forget when an aching vajayjay is such an enthusiastic reminder.
By the time she got to work, she was already exhausted. She locked up her bike and entered the spa.
Isabella greeted her from the reception desk, where she sat next to Devi. “Why are you so sweaty? And what the hell is that on your neck?”
Aurora’s hand flew to the spot where her friend was staring. Feeling nothing, she whipped out her lipstick case and peered into the mirror. A bright blue and purple love bite from the night before graced her neck just below her jaw. Both Isabella and Devi looked like they were waiting for an answer.
Are there any other souvenirs of last goddamn night?
She stomped down to the staff room.
Isabella followed on her heels. “What’s wrong? Are you okay? And how did you get that hickey on your neck?”
When the staffroom door closed, she swung around and faced her friend. The fury poured out as she leaned into her friend’s face, eyes flaring with anger. “I found out Hale—you know Hale, the guy who bought us champagne at Left Bank—was the asshole who hit me while I was riding my bike.”
“What? No way!”
Aurora shared the story of meeting Hale for drinks, their zesty session under the tree, and how she recognized his car.
“Wow,” Isabella said. “What are the chances? How come you didn’t realize it earlier?”
“He’d been driving his company truck cause his car was in the shop.” She sat on a stool, head in hands. “You know, this is just how things go for me. Something always goes sideways. Never fails. It’s just my karma.”
“C’mon. Are you sure there’s not a good explanation? I mean, he doesn’t seem like the type to do something like that.”
“I don’t know what type he is, but no one else in the state of California could have the license plate S-P-D-R-C-R.”
“What is that, anyway?” Isabella asked.
“I don’t know. Sounds like Speed Racer to me, you know, that old cartoon? He owns that racetrack up near Sears Point.”
Isabella sat next to her with wide-open eyes. “No shit. My dad used to take my brother and me there when we were kids. What’s his last name?”
“Saxon.”
“Oh my god. The Saxon family has been in Sonoma forever.”
“You’d think someone who owned a racetrack would know how to drive.” Aurora closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
Shake this shit off, girl.
The door to the staff room blew open, and Devi poked her head inside. “Isabella, you have a client waiting!”
Both masseuses jumped up, throwing their street clothes in their lockers and pulling on their white kimono robes. Isabella bolted for the door, muttering something about “the Saxons” under her breath as she left.
With a moment to herself, Aurora stepped in front of the vanity mirror to see if her makeup would cover the mark on her neck. Shivering, she remembered the way Hale touched her with his insatiable hunger. The memory shot through her like a lightning bolt, leaving her nipples straining against the fabric of her robe. She’d never come like she had with him…
Don’t think about that. It no longer matters.
Because her discovery had obliterated all trust in him.
But damn if he hadn’t made her feel amazing.
She had to admit, more than his touch set her on fire. It was the way he was attuned to her. He listened. He was interested. He wanted to know who she was and what was important to her. And that made her discovery all the more disappointing.
Her phone rang, pulling her back to reality. She rustled through her locker to find it, hoping it wasn’t her mom calling to ruin her day.
The screen showed it was not her mother.
It was Hale.
She let it ring twice before she pressed send to voice mail. That was easy enough.
But swallowing the growing lump in her throat was not.
Her dark brown eyes filled with tears, spilling down her cheeks till she could taste them. As if a dam of sadness had broken, she leaned her arms on the counter and let her shoulders shake. She’d trusted someone, and again, it had blown up in her face.
He’d seemed different. But he was just another fucking asshole.
After several minutes, she rose from the counter, empty and tired. Splashing cold water on her face, she steeled herself for her first client of the day. Personal problems were to be left at the door. Clients deserved no less than the best. That resolve afforded Aurora a blessed vacation from the tortured thoughts ping-ponging inside her head.
She threw her curls into a messy bun and touched up the foundation covering her love bite. Taking a deep breath, she strode to the Crown Chakra room for her first client of the day. She knocked quietly on the treatment room door, took a deep, meditative breath, and got to work.
Chapter 11
“Aurora Rose. Can you join us?”
A young woman with a clipboard called into the small waiting room where Aurora sat with two other people. She followed the petite girl into the club, who directed her to the stage.<
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Clubs were so spooky in the off-hours. The nighttime energy brought by the booming music and crowds was replaced by a stuffy, gloomy sadness, like someone or something had died.
The nightclub booker who’d approached Aurora at Left Bank several weeks earlier jumped up from a long table where several people were seated. “Aurora, thanks so much for coming in.” He shook her hand and made several introductions. He seemed genuinely pleased to see her.
“Thanks for having me.” She was all cool, but phony, confidence.
Truth was, she shook like a leaf on the inside. Who the hell did she think she was, and what the hell did she think she was doing? Her vocal coach had spent hours helping her prepare for this moment. But what if, no matter how much preparation she’d done, this was the only opportunity she ever got? What if no one else ever wanted to hear her sing?
“Give me a sec to pull up your music.” A guy who looked like a sound technician tapped away at a laptop, probably to get the file she’d shared with them that held her instrumental track.
“Ready, Aurora?” the technician asked.
“I am, thank you.” Her bright smile belied her terror. She took a moment to suck down a couple deep breaths to slow her racing heart, and placed her hands on the mic stand so nobody could see her fingers shake.
Her eyes closed as the music started playing. As soon as she took her first inhale, her nerves calmed and her voice soared. She opened them to see the booker and others at the table, watching her. Their big smiles bolstered her confidence, and her talent exploded. Everything she had went into the song—her successes and failures, her loves and hates, her laughter and tears.
She owned it, and as she reached its end, she had to keep her chin from quivering.
At least until she got outside.
When she’d finished, she shook their hands again and was assured they’d be in touch soon. But it didn’t really matter what they thought. She’d done her best; there was no doubt about it. If they didn’t want her, maybe someone else would. And if nobody ever did, there was always weekly karaoke.