tank, I hiss in a breath at the sensation of cool metal kissing my skin.
His hands slide to my hips, and he positions me with my bottom on the
seat in a semi-reclined position, then he kisses me long and hard.
“Do you trust me to keep you safe?” he whispers.
“I trust you.”
His eyes flash with sensual promise. “Will you do exactly as I say,
baby? If you don’t, you might slip off. I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“I’ll try.”
He lifts my arms over my head and slips the rope around one of my
wrists, fastening it to the handlebars. Then he does the same with the
other. I tug. The handlebars twist. My forehead creases. Hmm. Hands
tied out to the sides. Seems kinda kinky. Never done kinky before. “I
don’t know about this,” I say. “If I fall off, the motorcycle will fall on
top of me.”
“I won’t let you get hurt.” Max rakes his eyes over my body. “Think
of a word that tells me you want to stop what we’re doing. Something
to tell me we’ve gone too far. A word that means something to you.”
“Why not just ‘stop’?”
He presses a kiss to my belly. “Sometimes in the heat of the moment
‘stop’ means ‘go.’”
I suck in my lips and look around. What means something to me
out here in the darkness? Not much. Maybe I should choose a word that
means something to Max. Then he’ll pay attention.
“Agusta.”
Max smiles. “Your safe word is Agusta. Don’t forget it.”
A warm breeze caresses my cheek, blowing my hair. I try to brush it
away, but when I jerk my arms they only move an inch before the rope
tightens. Reality hits me hard. I am tied to his motorcycle. My heart
pounds at double speed.
“Don’t move. Stay still for me.”
I swallow past the lump in my throat. “I…don’t think I like this.”
Max leans down and takes my breast in his mouth, teasing my
nipple with his teeth. Lust rips through my body and I shiver in the
cool night air.
“Do you like this?” He nuzzles my other breast, flicking his tongue
over my nipple until it becomes painfully hard and sensual lightning
bolts shoot straight to my core.
“Yessss.”
He strokes his hand down my stomach to the waistband of my
leather pants, and flicks open the snap. Inch by agonizing inch he tugs
the pants and my skirt over my hips. Un-sexy leg contortions follow, and
within a minute I am wearing only a brand new pair of shiny emerald
panties that match my eyes. The familiar tingle of adrenaline courses
though my veins. Something pokes into my back.
His eyes rake over my body and he groans. “You are even more
breathtaking than I imagined.”
He imagined me naked. My discomfort gives way to my delight at
being the subject of Max’s fantasies.
His lips slide down over my abdomen and then along the top edge
of my panties.
I moan my approval and try to encourage him to keep going by
tilting my hips up toward his hot, wet kisses.
“I told you not to move.” His smooth voice takes on a sharp edge.
“There is a price to pay for not following the rules.”
Hmmm. I like the sound of that. I hope the price involves remov-
ing my panties.
Max walks to the front where I can’t see him. “Five minutes,” he
calls over his shoulder. Gravel crunches, fading into the distance, until I
can hear nothing but the wind in the trees.
“Max?” I tilt my head backward trying to see but the windshield is
in the way. “Where are you?”
My pulse speeds up as my lust-sodden brain struggles to process
what is happening. Is this what he means by paying a price? Leaving me
tied to his motorcycle in the dark? Is he joking?
“Max?”
Silence.
“Am I supposed to be turned on by this? If so, I’m not really feeling
the heat. I’m actually feeling the cold. You might remember I’m not
wearing very much. Also, your motorcycle isn’t very comfortable in this
position. It’s quite hard and something is sticking into my back. I think
it’s the gas tank.”
He can’t have gone far. He wouldn’t leave his precious Agusta. But
would he leave me? My lungs tighten at the thought.
“Did I mention my stepfather is the chief of police in Oakland?
Not that I’m threatening you, but if someone were to find me like this
and I dropped your name, he might not be too happy. Ever been in jail,
Max? I hear it’s less comfortable than being tied naked to a motorcycle
on Twin Peaks.”
A frisson of fear, cold and low, slithers up my spine. What if he
has a car nearby? What if someone was waiting to take him away?
What if this is all some elaborate sex game he plays with women?
What if he teases them and kisses them and leaves them to be found
in the morning?
Oh his kisses. Such delicious kisses. Kisses on my lips. Kisses on my
throat. Kisses on my breasts. Kisses on my panties. Everything below
my waist tightens and suddenly my senses heighten. The hard metal
gas tank presses into my back, a contrast to the soft leather of the saddle
under my bottom. Traffic hums in the distance, and I catch the odd
flutter of wings overhead. Stars twinkle in the night sky, bright pin-
pricks in a sheet of black velvet. The air is fragrant with pine and salt
and the sharp scent of gasoline. Max’s taste is on my tongue. My pulse
beats steadily between my thighs.
Seriously? I’m tied to a motorcycle in the dark, and I am so aroused I
want to scream? What the hell is wrong with me? Maybe I should scream.
As I draw in a huge breath, Max’s mouth covers my own in a brain-searing
kiss. The scream dies in my throat. Why didn’t I hear him coming?
“Time is up. You did well, baby.”
“You left me on purpose?”
“You didn’t follow the rules.”
Red sheets my vision. My hands clench into fists above my head,
and my arousal fades away like a dream in the morning light. All
manner of swear words pop into my head—the usual ones children
learn at school, a few others I picked up in books, and some really filthy
language I can’t believe I would contemplate letting fall from my lips. I
toss them around in my brain and discard them all. I won’t let him do
that to me. I will not be reduced to swearing.
“Untie me. Now.”
Max tugs on the ropes and they slither off my wrists. He reaches
out to help me up and I slap his hand away. “Don’t you dare touch me.”
I stomp over to the wall toward my jacket with as much dignity as
I can muster wearing only wet green panties. I. Am. So. Out. Of. Here.
Before I can tug the jacket on, Max is behind me. He slips one
arm around my waist and pulls me into his body. Skin to skin. He
must have removed his jacket and shirt when I was terrified and alone.
How presumptuous.
“You were so sexy lying across my bike,” he murmurs in my ear.
“Do you know what I wanted to do to you? Do you know where I
wanted my hands, my lips, my—”
/>
“Stop. I don’t want to hear it.” I spin around to face him. “You
scared me. That wasn’t fun.”
He studies my eyes so intensely I look away to the sweep of lights
in the city below.
“Tell me the truth.” His deep voice, though soft, is filled with demand.
“I am telling you the truth. You scared me. I’m so angry right now,
I’m thinking of slapping you.”
His expression becomes carnal, predatory. He presses me backward
against the retaining wall. The cold, rough stone scrapes against my
skin. He cages me with his body and locks his eyes with mine.
“Slap me.”
“No.”
“You just said you wanted to slap me.”
My body trembles when he leans over me. “I said I was thinking
about it.”
His eyes soften. “What else are you thinking, little fighter?” He
cups my head with his hand and strokes his thumb over my cheek.
“I’m thinking you have a terrible seduction technique,” I grumble.
“You started off well—motorcycle ride, Twin Peaks, picnic under the
stars—but you lost me when you decided to play cowboy and rope
yourself a filly.”
Max chuckles. “Did I lose you or did I arouse you? Are you angry
because you were scared, or because it turned you on and you don’t like
that it did?”
“That’s ridiculous.” I shift my weight from foot to foot. “Who
would get turned on by being tied to a motorcycle and left alone in
the dark?”
“You.” His hand slides down my stomach and over my mound to
cup my damp heat. I suck in a sharp breath, but moving away is not an
option. My betraying hips tilt toward him, asking for more.
He strokes his finger along the edge of my panties and then shoves
them aside. I press my hands against his chest, intending to push him
away, but my hands also aren’t following the program. Instead, they
slide up his chest and circle his neck, pulling me closer to the heat of his
body. Max’s finger slides along my folds and then it dips inside. My eyes
slit closed and a shudder ripples through me.
“You’re so wet, baby,” he groans. He trails my wetness down my
inner thigh. “Your body knows what it wants. You just need to free
your mind.”
I bite my lip and turn my head away. He’s wrong. He has to be
wrong. I’m not into kinky stuff. Not that I’ve ever had a chance to find
out. My three sedate, ultraconservative boyfriends never tried anything
except the missionary position.
“My body and my mind agree that I want to leave.”
A smile ghosts Max’s lips. “One kiss and we’ll go. You have my word.”
Desire whispers through my veins with promises of pleasure. I clench
my teeth and fight it back. Bad Desire. Go away. “Fine. One kiss.”
Max’s eyes darken. He slides one hand around my waist and pulls
me tight against his chest. Sparks shoot straight down my spine, and a
warm, liquid sensation ripples through my body.
His breath whispers over my cheek, and I press my lips together.
He is going to get a chaste kiss. A disapproving kiss. A kiss that says I
like to kiss, but I don’t play those games.
“Open for me, baby.” His words send a surge of moisture between
my legs. He glides his thumb over my bottom lip and presses down.
Gently. I succumb instantly, like a kid in a candy store. I part my lips and
allow his thumb to dip inside, and then greedily suck it like a lollipop.
“Good girl.”
His words send goose bumps dancing along my skin. Soft words.
Approving words. Condescending words. I can’t muster the energy to
reprimand him while his thumb is sliding in and out of my mouth
making me think of other things. Naughty things.
He curls his fingers around my neck and tilts my head back, his
thumb now caressing my cheek. I can’t look away. My entire being is
focused on him. He leans down and covers my mouth with his, sending
quivers of excitement rippling through me. His tongue glides along my
lips, and then dives inside, thrusting deep and filling my mouth. My
brain fuzzes at the startling sensation, but he gives me no chance to
recover. His fingers tighten on my neck and he draws me closer, kissing
me until I can barely breathe.
Oh God, I want him. Bad. I tighten my grip on his neck and mold
my body to his.
And then he pulls away.
“No.” My voice rises almost to a whine.
Max’s eyes glitter fever bright, and his chest rises and falls so quickly
I worry for a second he might hyperventilate. “I gave you my word. One
kiss and we would go.”
“I don’t want to go.”
“Then tell me the truth,” he rasps. “Admit it made you hot. It
made you wet. You are coiled so tight I could slide my hand down your
panties and make you come before you could tell me to stop.”
Sexy words. Dirty words. Cocky words. They burst the dam
holding back my desire. With a low groan I lean up and press my lips
against his. “Yes,” I whisper.
Max gives a self-satisfied grunt. He slips his hand down my panties,
pressing the heel of his palm against my sensitive spot. His fingers slide
through my folds, and then dip inside.
Oh. My. God. My breathing stops and fire shoots through me. I
whimper and rock myself against him, straining for more.
“I’ve got you, baby.” His breath is warm and moist in my ear. “I
know what you need.”
Max pulls his finger out and thrusts two fingers in, ripping a cry
from my lips. His fingers plunge in and out while his thumb rubs the
sides of my sweet spot until my legs buckle. Max’s arm tightens around
me, holding me up.
So close. So damn close. I need release so badly, I groan.
“Let it go.” Max brushes his thumb over my throbbing center.
Once. Twice. Three times is all it takes. “Come for me, baby.”
His deeply erotic words catapult me to orgasm. It hits with such
force, I scream. My first ever orgasm scream. Thunder roars through
my ears, and my sex spasms around his fingers, each contraction sending
lightning bolts of pleasure through my body. But he doesn’t stop. His
fingers continue towork their magic, drawing out my orgasm until I go
limp, and only his arm keeps me from slumping to the ground.
When he finally withdraws his fingers, I am seized by uncontrol-
lable shivers. Max wraps his arms around me and holds me tight. This is
not how I ever imagined my first non-Makayla-induced orgasm would
be. No soft bed. No gentle touching. No slight quiver and a tiny burst
of pleasure. This was wild. Uncontrolled. There were ropes and metal
and cold and fear.
My blood chills. Fear has no place in the bedroom or even on Twin
Peaks. I stiffen in Max’s arms and pull away. God, I’m a mess. “Can we
go now?”
Max’s brow creases. “What’s wrong?”
Stomach churning, I scoop up my clothes and tug them on.
“Nothing. I’m good. Just…cold.” Damn. I forgot my skirt. I ball it in
my fist and stuff it down the front of my pants.
“Okay. All ready to go.” I plaster a fake smile across my face.
Max stalks over to me and cups my face in his hands. “It’s okay to
be afraid.”
“I’m not afraid of you.”
His eyes soften. “Maybe not, but you are afraid of you.”
Chapter 13
I'm Not That Kinda Girl
I am awakened by the jarring buzz of my phone. I fumble around
until I locate the offending device and hold it to my ear.
“Good morning, Ms. Delaney.”
At the sound of Sergio’s voice, I come fully awake. My alarm clock
reads ten a.m. Sun streams through the crack in my curtains. I am naked
in bed. Alone.
“It’s Sunday. Why are you calling me on a Sunday? There must be
laws against harassing people on the weekend.”
“I am permitted to call you between eight a.m. and nine p.m. seven
days a week, as many times as I wish so long as you do not feel harassed.
Do you feel harassed Ms. Delaney?”
“Yes. I have two days to sleep in every week and you have just
ruined one of them. I most definitely feel harassed.”
Sergio chuckles. “I didn’t want you to sleep the day away. The sun
is shining. The birds are singing. The debts are growing.”
“How thoughtful.”
“I am thoughtful,” he croons. “My thoughtfulness has motivated me
to call you this morning to remind you about the payment due tomorrow.”
“I’m glad you called. Just give me a minute.” I scramble around the
room looking for my notes from the calls I made to various government
agencies about student loan debt collection.
“Take all the time you need, Ms. Delaney. You are my only call of
the day.”
After retrieving the papers from the bottom of my backpack, I
make myself comfortable on my bed.
“I understand if I am on the rehabilitation program, I have twenty
days to make each payment from the day it is due. So, in fact, I have
twenty-one days to make the payment due tomorrow.”
Sergio huffs into the phone. “I do so hate debtors who think they
know the law. That provision kicks in only AFTER you make the first
payment. You aren’t getting out of it so easily.”
“No way. I researched it”
“Not well enough.”
My heart sinks. “I can’t pay it all. Only some of it.”
Against the Ropes Page 18