by Ann Cory
She paused a moment and stared wistfully at her own personal Ride to Ecstasy. She’d customized the sleek machine to be an exact replica of the bike Vaughn had given her. Just looking at it made her moist between the thighs. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, Vaughn was her greatest muse. Thoughts of him made her creativity soar. Among other things.
After a few more hours of mindless sketching, she dragged herself into the bedroom, changed into her silk nightie and flopped onto her bed. The left side of the bed to be precise, because the right side belonged to Vaughn. Or at least it once did. His musky scent had faded from the pillowcase after about a month, but she couldn’t bring herself to move beyond the middle. Sometimes she propped a few pillows on his side and nestled her back into them. Those were the nights she cried herself to sleep.
Tonight, her mind refused to sway from lustful thoughts of Vaughn. She tossed and turned until her legs were tangled between the sheets. Fists clenched, she slammed them against the mattress and released a string of curse words. She needed to get off now or it would be one long night.
Carah charged back into her studio, the floor cool beneath her bare feet. She wasn’t fooling around. The burning need toiling around inside her was as ravenous as when she’d first come up with the idea of the sex-toy bike. Maybe more. No less than three orgasms were going to do the trick tonight. And even then she knew the relief wouldn’t last long.
She yanked off her panties and swung her leg over the leather seat, flicking the power switch on the handlebars. The seat started to vibrate. She wrapped her hands around the gears and revved the motorcycle. At once the dildo pushed up from the seat and spread her soft, damp folds. She held the gears down until the makeshift cock was inside her to the hilt. Stretching her wide with its long, thick girth. She’d designed her dildo to keep to the same likeness and dimensions as Vaughn. If she couldn’t have him she’d fuck the next best thing.
Carah flipped another switch to make the dildo vibrate and swivel. She concentrated on the pleasure of the movement, the way it filled her with its rhythmic thrusts. Her nipples hardened into firm peaks, pressing taut against the silk of her nightie.
“Oh yes,” she moaned and grinded her hips. She rode the dildo like it was Vaughn himself beneath her and desperately wished that he was. He knew the way she liked to be touched. Knew all the right words and moves to draw out a stubborn climax. He’d been the most perfect lover and spoiled her to the core.
“Fuck me, Vaughn,” she gasped, as if he could hear. A flood of hunger ravaged her body, drenching her in its heat and intensity. She’d tried so hard to forget the man who’d come into her life and turned it upside down. Each day that passed, she worked to distance herself from him and regain some sense of control. But right now, each thrust of the imitation cock inside her diminished that control.
Helpless against the desire sparking through her, Carah rocked her hips forward and back, an urgent need to orgasm all-consuming. Teeth clenched, the first gratifying wave ripped through her. She cried out, a mixed sob and plea for Vaughn to burst through the wall and fuck her into oblivion. But he wasn’t there and never would be again.
Her body bucked as the last spasm released. It brought her a moment of reprieve, but she wasn’t about to stop there. She wanted more. She needed more.
Carah stood up with the tip of the dildo still inside her and pressed a button for the anal dildo. It too had the right dimensions she’d been accustomed to with Vaughn. She opened the side panel where packets of lubrication were stored and lathered the dildo up. Slowly, she eased back until the smooth head breached her tiny hole. Carah cried out at the dual vibrations filling her, spreading her pussy and ass with relentless force. Her hands clung to the handlebars, white-knuckled, grinding fiercely with the exquisite pleasure, riding like her life depended on it. She moaned and whimpered against the steady double penetration.
“Vaughn,” she panted, near breathless.
She envisioned him and his masterful skills. How his tongue savagely laved her clit. The feral gleam in his eyes when he ate her out. The way he tugged and suckled her pulsing clit with his mouth until she shuddered.
Wanting even more, she increased the speed of the vibration and started up the clit roller. She rode the seat with a heated vengeance. If she could just stay in this erotic state of bliss she wouldn’t have to acknowledge the torturous void since Vaughn’s departure.
Carah clenched her jaw as a second brutal orgasm tore through her, followed by a powerhouse of quakes.
She released the gears and turned off the switch, gasping for air. The rapid beat of her heart thundered in her ears. Her thighs, slick with sweat, quivered from one violent tremor after another. All her sensations were on high, roused and demanding more. She took a sharp breath in and waited for her inner muscles to stop contracting. Bittersweet relief was hers for the moment. Yes, the motorcycle could satisfy, but it wasn’t a substitute by any means. She wanted Vaughn. She wanted his warm, hard flesh against hers. She wanted his cock delivering mind-numbing thrusts all through the night and into the morning. God, how she missed the lazy mornings where they’d ignored the flood of sunshine across their bodies and stayed wrapped up in a locked embrace. Good luck finding a substitution for those, she thought wistfully.
In her mind she deserved this agony, this life sentence to go without a man’s touch. It was her fault Vaughn had left. She’d driven him away by being stubborn and letting her fears take over. She’d known how important it was to him that she be his biker babe. Why hadn’t she fought harder to overcome her insecurities? Why had she let the most wonderful man she’d ever met slip from her fingertips? Yes, she did deserve this agony.
Carah closed her eyes and let Vaughn’s handsome face come to mind. He was only a few years older than her, but his face depicted great wisdom. His deep blue eyes—paradise blue she called them—always made her knees weak with the briefest of glances. Then there was the rough resonance of his voice that never ceased to arouse her, made even more seductive when he whispered dirty sweet words in her ear. Most of all she loved his gruff laugh. It was contagious. Even when she’d wanted to be angry at him she couldn’t stay mad for long. He only had to smile and it broke down her defenses, an easygoing smile that lit her up inside.
There hadn’t been much left to smile or laugh about since he’d left. She’d been too busy stuck on her pity trip. All because she feared falling again. Falling and disappointing the man she loved. It seemed irrational, but she couldn’t shake her doubt. Nor could she shake the memory of the last time they’d had sex together.
Her pussy clenched in remembrance of his fingers, tongue, mouth and cock.
One more.
Carah flipped the switches and turned up the speed of the clit stimulator. Within seconds she’d found the perfect cadence and ground her hips until the third and final orgasm shot through her. In one long, pleasured howl, she released all her pent-up emotions, not caring who heard.
She climbed off the bike, her legs spent, and crumpled to the floor, drawing her knees to her chest. The stubborn tears she’d fought so hard to hold back spilled over. Damn the way her heart ached. And damn the way she still wanted Vaughn.
***
Vaughn cursed himself for not having left Bellingham earlier. The sky had darkened and exhaustion had set in. Too many work hours and not enough sleep had caught up with him. He’d have to catch a few winks somewhere or risk getting into an accident. Somehow he didn’t think that would help Carah get over her own fears. He could picture it now. Oh, honey. I apologize for the full body cast but I was in a rush to get back to you. No, a few hours of shut-eye sounded right.
He found a somewhat secluded area off the side of the road and parked his bike along the dense brush. Not wanting to be bothered by headlights from passing cars, he made sure to go far enough in. He grabbed his sleeping roll from the back and stretched out.
With his hands tucked behind his head, he stared up into the blackened sky. Thoughts of Carah
invaded his mind though he tried to still them. It seemed ages since he’d last stroked the length of her arm or inhaled her clean, fresh scent. He liked her simple style. Denim and lace. For a while there she’d dressed in close-fitting leather outfits. It had been hard not to be turned on with her sex-kitten bod, but the look wasn’t her. He thought at one time he liked that look, but in the end it didn’t turn his crank. That much he knew. He’d often told her she didn’t need to change to please him. He liked the woman he’d met. Dressed or undressed, hell kitten or not, everything about her drove him out of his mind.
“Ah hell,” he mumbled under his breath. He needed to sleep, not dredge up old memories. Vaughn forced his eyes closed, only to see Carah’s beautiful face etched in stubbornness. He’d never met a woman more obstinate and, while she tested his patience at times, they complimented each other. She balanced his edge. When they met she’d referred to him as a razor—a real straight edge that needed a smooth woman like herself to buffer him. She’d been right, of course. And it was that hard edge that had severed their relationship in the end.
Vaughn squeezed his eyes shut and tried to think of something…anything other than her scintillating body trembling beneath his. The more he tried not to think about her, the more his cock hardened.
“Fuck!” His voice echoed in the night.
The savage need in his groin wouldn’t abscond anytime soon. He nearly broke his zipper to free his erection. In one swift move, he clenched his fist around his hot flesh and stroked up and back, his grip secure as an iron vise. It could never compare to Carah’s moist pussy or the way she took him in her mouth, but it helped.
With each heated vision of her eyes heavy-lidded with lust, he fisted harder, punishing himself for having left. Whatever Carah was going through wasn’t going to get better by his leaving. He’d made a mistake. A stupid, selfish mistake that he’d give anything to take back. He should deny his orgasm to pay for his stupidity, but he was too far gone. His pulse drummed in the base of his neck in time with her name. Carah. Carah. Carah.
He sped up his strokes until his body tensed. The climax broke free and he fought back the roar from his throat. He released his cock and grabbed a handkerchief from his back pocket to clean up. As he’d expected, getting off by himself did little to satisfy the raw urges festering deep inside, but it gave him temporary relief.
A cool breeze blew across his body and he pulled his jacket around him.
Vaughn knew he couldn’t go back and not confront Carah and apologize for abandoning her when she’d needed him most. He hoped she would give him a few minutes to explain.
Chapter Three
Vaughn slept longer than he’d planned. The early morning sun lit the area around him like a Thomas Kinkade portrait. He wasn’t quite as hidden as it had looked in the dark, but no one had bothered him. He grabbed a handful of trail mix and chomped some beef jerky before getting back on the road. If the traffic wasn’t too heavy he’d make it to Carah’s place by eleven.
His mind warred with how things would go each mile he got closer to her house. Much as he hoped the reception would be smooth, the reality was he didn’t know if she’d even open the door to him. How could he blame her? Six months holed up like a damn coward. Six months without a call or explanation. Six months for her to move on and find another man who wasn’t such a dumbass.
It was that last thought that inflamed him. Yeah, he’d been a dick and sure he deserved to be cast aside. He was prepared to be screamed at, flipped off, and put in his place. But damn if some other asshole would be the reason. She was his, and until she said otherwise, until she made it clear they didn’t stand a chance, he didn’t have to play fair.
An hour later the familiar side road with its tall Douglas firs came into view. He slowed and made the turn onto the grassy pathway that led straight to Carah’s house. The out-of-the-way cottage had been a gift from her father, and the love that had been put into it was obvious. Never had he thought four walls could ever feel comfortable. Nor had he thought he’d ever find a place he could call home. With his background in construction, he’d always intended to build her a special artist studio separate from the house. A space to call her own where she’d have privacy. If she took him back, it would be at the top of his list of things to do.
Sheltering the house was a forest of old trees and a small pond. He’d missed it and the tranquility that surrounded it. He killed the engine and walked his motorcycle up part way. To his relief not much had changed. Except for the large truck parked at the side.
What the hell?
His fists clenched at the sight of a man walking right inside her house, all casual as could be, and then coming back out with a large box.
I can take him easy, he thought. No contest.
He started to walk over, about ready to go and deck the guy, when another man carrying a larger box exited her house and slid it into the back of the truck. When Vaughn actually focused instead of seeing red, he noticed they wore matching overalls. His anger turned into curiosity. Were they movers? No. No way. He couldn’t believe she’d move. Carah loved the house her dad had built for her and swore she’d never move.
His pulse hammered. Had he taken too long to figure shit out? Did her moving have something to do with him, or was it spurred by finances? He knew she ran a number of businesses from her home, but maybe she’d come into tough times?
Vaughn cursed to himself. Why hadn’t he bothered to call? The fact she might’ve hung up on him didn’t matter. He should’ve tried. If she were moving away, that was heavy and would throw a serious wrench in the scenario he’d worked out in his head. While he didn’t for one second expect her to sit around crying her eyes out over him, he hated to think she’d completely discounted him. Would she have left and not let him know where to, not even leave him a phone number?
He ignored the voice in his head repeating the word “hypocrite”.
At any rate, it appeared she was moving on. Without him. And stubbornness aside, it was clear he was too damn late. With the fight knocked out of him, he started back to his bike when Carah walked out from around the corner, a handful of daisies in tow. His body froze.
Fuck, she looked good. Her form-fitting jeans hugged the provocative curvature of her hips. A snug T-shirt lay knotted at her waist and exposed her sexy-as-hell bellybutton. Even without a stitch of makeup on and her hair mussed like she’d woken minutes before, she was a knockout. He opened his mouth to call out her name, but his throat closed up. Some strange gurgle filled the air, too quiet to be heard. Since when did any woman leave him speechless?
Talk you idiot, he willed himself. Talk!
His mind blanked. A jumble of nonsense coiled his tongue but refused to spill out. This was ridiculous. He’d come here to talk, not resemble a statue with his jaw gaping wide open. If he didn’t say something he’d lose her. Did he want that? Did he want the way he split on her to hang on his conscience forever? He’d come back to fight for her and he damn well would.
Before he had a chance to pull his head out of his ass and make the first move, she glanced in his direction. A bevy of emotions spread across her features, almost too fast for him to register what they were, though none looked very pleased. Lips pursed, she took a few tentative steps toward him, her hips swaying hypnotically. Damn, he wanted to take her in his arms and kiss every lush inch of her.
“Vaughn? What are you doing here?”
His attention shot from her hips to her now-blazing eyes. “I wanted to see you.”
“Now isn’t a good time for me,” she replied, like he was a stranger who’d come by asking her to buy a magazine subscription.
The two movers closed up the truck with such noise his next words were drowned out. To add insult to injury, they walked up to Carah, ignoring the fact they were having a conversation.
“Anything else you need today?”
She flashed them the kind of smile usually reserved for him. “No, I’m good. Thanks for all your help. I’l
l give you a call next week. Drive careful.”
Vaughn didn’t care for the casualness of their demeanor or that she’d call them at all, much less next week.
In the next breath he cursed himself for being jealous. That was not his style. He crossed his arms and waited until the movers were out of earshot before beginning the interrogation.
“What was that all about? Are you moving? Because I can’t believe you’d sell this house after claiming you love it so much. You’ve always said you’d die before selling it. Do you need to borrow some money? Are you well?”
She narrowed her eyes. “Wow, am I being interviewed here?”
Vaughn ran a hand through his hair, confused by his nervousness. It had all spilled out with little thought, but it all needed to be said. He rolled his shoulders. “Sorry.”
She set the daisies down, folded her arms and gave him the stance that he’d come to know as the he-wasn’t-getting-sex-anytime-soon stance.
“Not like I need to explain myself,” she started, “but no, I’m not moving nor would I. The guys are delivering some products I’ve sold—a successful new business venture of mine I started several months back. So no, I don’t need any money. And I’m just fine, though I’m sure you’d prefer to hear that I’ve been an emotional wreck without you. Satisfied?”
He cleared his throat. “I see.”
“Would it really matter if I was moving?”
“Yes, of course.”
She arched a suspicious brow. “Why?”
This time his words had to count and not be thrown out in a random mess. “There are plenty of reasons. For starters, I happen to care about you.”
“So it’s okay for you to leave and not say a word, but not for me. Is that it?”