by Paula Cox
A moan tore from his lips and echoed against Miranda's. The reverberations sunk into her body, tickling her bones and making her core curl with pleasure. Tyler thrust in and out of her, the friction making her whole body flame. Her nails dug into his shoulders as her knees clamped to his sides. Something different writhed through her thoughts. Freedom, after her confession, tainted every action with an added dollop of pleasure. She arched and curled and writhed as fresh tingles and prickles teased along her nerves. She clenched her eyes shut, enjoying the bursts of satisfaction that laved her body.
Already, the waves of pleasure were cresting. Perhaps the adrenaline from the plan pushed her or maybe the relief of her confession made everything ten times stronger. Whatever the reason, delight swept her body up, tangled her nerves, and pushed a gasping moan from her lips. She clung to Tyler as he pumped in and out, harder and faster, and she rode her orgasm. Her body trembled and heaved beneath him, her fingers and toes curling.
Tyler's fingers coiled into the blanket beneath Miranda's head. He dug deep as his cock plunged even more. He wanted every inch of her to know him, to accept him, to be marked by him. His mouth drifted from her lips, buried in the crook of her neck. Without the kiss, her moans freely filled the air and clawed down his spine. He loved it when she didn't swallow her pleasure.
His teeth nipped along her neck, feeling her pulse pounding against her throat. A primal sense of carnality tinged his thoughts. He kissed and sucked and bit at her flesh, eliciting even louder moans. He slammed himself into her, harder and harder at the prompting of her body, her sounds, her unintelligible pleas. The bed creaked under them, scraping against the floor as the whole frame shuddered under their activity.
Another orgasm barreled through Miranda. Her body jolted and her nails raked across his back, drawing blood. Her gasping, moaning cry filled Tyler's ears. He wanted more. Without warning, he nudged her legs up, shifting them over his shoulders. Her hands drifted from his back and she resorted to savaging the blanket beneath her. Her toes flexed and her thighs tightened, her core trembling as his cock slammed in and out of her.
Tyler's own groans found their way to Miranda's ears, despite her passionate, head-tossing mewls. The sound sent a fire to her lower tummy. Her lungs burned from overexertion, sweat kissed every inch of her flesh and, between her legs, her wetness spread against her thighs. The position, with her legs over his shoulders, only intensified the whole experience. Her walls tightened around him and the angle allowed him deeper access. Her moans mounted as, with every passing thrust, it felt like Tyler drove harder, farther into her center.
Likewise, Tyler had never felt so much heat, so much wetness, from a lover. It spurred him on and the only thing keeping him on the edge was himself. Pleasure burned at his balls and his cock pulsated with need. He wanted to come. He wanted to release it all into her. But he also wanted her a writhing, wet puddle of afterglow and orgasm. He wanted to give her the best she'd ever have.
Heat and pressure knotted in Miranda and a third orgasm loomed before her thoughts. Her whole body trembled from toes to pussy to fingers. Every nerve quivered, as if sensing the onslaught. She gasped for breath. The air in the room had turned hot and humid thanks to them. Faintly, she wondered how he could hold out so long.
She cracked her eyes open, catching Tyler's face in a shaft of moonlight. Her heart sputtered, his eyes dark with passion and sweat trickling down his temple teased overused pleasure receptors. The tingle shot down her spine and cleaved through her pussy. Her sex trembled severely around Tyler's shaft, muscles working along his erection.
Tyler's moans and groans took on a rough, raspy edge. He gasped, trying to keep control on his side. Miranda, despite the difficulty of the position, squirmed and wriggled her hips. His cock grazed the sides of her pussy, taunting her pulsing, soft skin. He gasped and closed his eyes, his rhythm slowing down drastically as he forced himself to regain control.
To herself, Miranda smiled. His cock twitched deep inside her, and again, and again. His release sat on the edge and, still, he held back. It was flattering and sweet. Another dribble of sweat coursed down the side of his face.
As the fire grew in her belly, however, a need grew in her thoughts. She desired his release, wanted to feel him twitch and feel the liquid hotness in her core. Even the very thought of it nudged her close to an impending release.
The quiver started and moved outward, skittering across her veins and over her flesh. She whimpered and writhed beneath him, fingers digging into the bed. She couldn't form thoughts, let alone words. She didn't need to, though. As her third release slammed over her body, it seemed all her muscles clenched together, coiled around his cock, milked at his member. Her body felt searing hot and every inch of her, every twitch, every clench taunted him. Or maybe he was too sensitized from denying himself for so long. Whatever the reason, his pleasure crested.
Tyler moaned as his thrusts became erratic. The delight crashed along his body, centering on his groin. He gasped and grunted, releasing his cum into Miranda. His cock twitched and pulsed, pleasure razing every nerve of his body. His balls clenched tightly. Sweat tickled down his back.
Her moans blended with a keening squeal, her body bouncing against his as yet another shudder overtook her body. It was followed by many other, brief and powerful tremors. Miranda tossed her head from side to side, gasps ravaging her throat. Pleasure strangled her senses and the heat of their sex made it hard to breathe. Her heart pounded with excitement and satisfaction.
The tension, the thrashing, the continual crashing of orgasm subsided. Ripples of delight leaked through her. Her exhausted muscles felt like melted taffy. Strung out, stretched, wobbly. Her thighs trembled as Tyler pushed himself off her. She slowly stretched her legs, groaning as she straightened them. If she stood, she'd surely topple over.
Tyler wasn't fending much better. Hot scratches streaked across his back, bluntly pounding as his body demanded rest. He eased himself down to the bed, lying beside Miranda. She stared up at the ceiling, trying to reign in her fluttering thoughts that were scattered by hormones. She felt like she could melt into the bed. Heat and sweat tinted the air in her room.
“I wonder if Naomi and Jack heard us,” Miranda sputtered, a flush tearing across her cheeks. She threw Tyler a glance.
Before he could answer, however, shrieks of pleasure erupted from somewhere in the cabin. A creature skittered, scared out of its wits, across the roof. Silence weighed down after the sudden outburst, but Tyler thought he could hear the thumping of a bed.
“I think,” he started, trying to keep his lips from quirking into an amused grin, “they're too preoccupied to notice.”
They stared at each other for half a beat, both trying – and failing – to keep a straight face. Laughter spilled from their lips. Miranda curled up against Tyler, trying to stifle her giggles as much as she could. For some reason, though, she couldn't wipe the smile from her face. For the first time, in a long time, she was completely happy.
The feeling resonated in Tyler, as well, though, a foreboding darkness tickled at the back of his head. He ignored it as he wrapped his arms around her body, tugging her into him. She simply snuggled closer, falling asleep to the sound of his beating heart.
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR
The sun blearily peered over the edge of the landscape when Tyler packed up the rental car. The blue stain of night still clung to the air. From the porch of the cabin, Miranda rubbed her eyes and yawned, grasping at the piping hot cup of coffee she had made twenty minutes earlier.
Beside her, Naomi inquired, “You sure you want to go?”
“Yeah,” she turned a smile toward her friend. She hadn't had a chance to do her morning routine. It was a rare moment when Naomi stepped outside without the slightest bit of makeup or hairstyle tweaking. Then again, the cabin was in the middle of the forest. Who was going to gossip? Miranda nodded to Naomi’s stomach, her smile growing into a teasing grin, “Besides, I'd be a third…fourth wheel i
n your happy little family.”
Naomi scoffed and rolled her eyes. Her hands went to her stomach, though. “Yeah, it's every modern woman's dream to live in a cabin in the woods while pregnant.”
“Oh, hush. The next town over isn't that far,” scolded Miranda, though a smile curled at her tired lips.
The words didn't alleviate the blonde's pout. The women fell silent as the men packed up the car. Birds sang to the early morning, trying to coax the sun over the horizon's edge. Miranda stared out over the forest. What would be in store for her tomorrow? They were heading to San Marta. It would take days. Hopefully, though, Pete's men were none the wiser. She still didn't know if any of the bikers had found the tunnel.
“You sure you want her to come with?”
“I can't stop her,” sighed Tyler, shaking his head as he shoved the backpack into a corner of the trunk. He tried not to think of their long journey to Texas. Cars were cramped, especially after the freedom of roaring down the highway perched on a motorcycle.
Jack chuckled and muttered, conspiratorially, “I could call her into the cabin and you could take off.”
“If I didn't know better, I would think you were trying to get both of the ladies to yourself, Jackie boy.” Tyler slammed the trunk shut, eyeballing Jack from the corner of his eye.
“I have my hands full with Naomi,” Jack laughed, holding his hands up. A mischievous glint flickered in his eye. “After what I heard last night, I think doubling up would be the death of me.”
Tyler let out a bark of laughter, startling some early-morning birds from their branches. He shook his head, the grin refusing to leave his lips. He and Jack locked gazes across the distance. A slight coldness nicked the air. It was the first time in the last three weeks they were at ease. In the forest, away from Pete and the world, and with their lovely ladies yards away.
It was almost too perfect to give up.
Tyler shook the thought from his head. Lloyd needed help. Pete needed to be taken down. There was no sense in dragging Jack and Naomi down with him. Miranda would be enough of a weight on his conscience.
“Well, we better hit the road,” Tyler mumbled, his feet scuffing at the dirt. He didn't want to go. He didn't want to go back to looking over his shoulder every time he turned a corner. Glancing up at Jack, he saw a glimpse of sympathy in the man's eyes.
“Be safe, man.” Jack clapped Tyler on the shoulder with a big, beefy hand. He knew talking him out of leaving wouldn't work. There were promises to uphold. Even if Miranda were tailing along at his heels.
As Tyler called out her name, Miranda started. Her heart pounded in her chest as she turned to Naomi, who looked up at her, a weak smile on her lips and tears brimming in her lashes. “Come back, Miranda. Please.”
She nodded, blinking back her own tears as she caught Naomi in a hug. The blonde dug her fingers into her back, as if she were afraid to let go. A tear trickled down Miranda's cheek. This could be the last time she ever saw Naomi. As she pulled away and stepped back, she hastily swiped the tear away. Placing the mug of coffee down on the cabin's railing, she smiled teasingly at Naomi and motioned to her stomach, “Don't pop until I come back.”
Miranda didn't catch Naomi's parting words as she clumped off the porch. She couldn't bring herself to look back. A heaviness hung between them. Miranda would have never guessed ever walking away from Naomi, not knowing whether or not she'd see her again. The thought brought a lump to Miranda's throat, realizing just how precious of a friend she was.
And that was another reason to leave with Tyler. If Pete found out they had survived, if the bikers chased after them, it'd keep the heat off Jack and Naomi. Miranda clenched her fists, conviction pushing the sadness to the back of her head.
Miranda and Tyler climbed into the burgundy rental car. Neither one dared to look back as Tyler pulled them out onto the road. The car trundled on, in silence, as the two of them headed for San Marta.
Tyler's voice roused her from numbing thoughts, “You all right, Mir?”
“I'll be fine,” she croaked, shifting in her seat. She glanced up at Tyler, offering him a small smile. He tossed back a weak grin of his own, though he wasn't sure how true her words were. His grip on the steering wheel tightened as the trees gave way to rolling plains. He suddenly felt vulnerable under the open, blue sky of morning.
A warmth descended onto his thigh and he realized, a microsecond later, it was Miranda's hand. “I'm not going to leave you, Tyler.”
He jerked his attention to Miranda, catching her smile, before turning his gaze back to the road. He pressed his lips together in a thin line. What she said was exactly the opposite of what he worried about. She should leave him; she should turn her back and run as soon as danger descended. Hell, she shouldn't even be in the car with him.
Those words soon died in his thoughts, though. As much as Tyler fretted over her well being, he knew how much her presence helped him. His selfishness worried him more than anything else. Silence firmly wiggled its butt down into the cushions of the car as Tyler and Miranda sped toward San Marta.
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
Three days had passed since they left Legacy. One last day on the road until they entered San Marta. At Tyler's prompting, they had decided to duck into a bar on this final night of journey. Miranda wasn't too sure about partying. Getting drunk sounded like a disaster waiting to happen when you were dealing with someone in a motorcycle club – not to mention the fact that that someone was also involved with a Mexican cartel.
Music thumped through the air, punctuated by chatter. Miranda glanced around the smoky bar, feeling equally vulnerable and foolish. She tried to forget about their current situation. This was just her and him, at a bar, enjoying a night together. Of course, the noise weaseled into her head and left room for little else.
The bar was small and filled to maximum capacity. People could barely move without becoming intimate with others. It was good, though. More people meant more conversation, more distractions, and an easier time fading into the background. Well, that's what movies and shows always told her, at least.
The first day on the road, Tyler insisted on alterations and disguises. For the first time in her life, she now possessed a pair of expensive sunglasses that almost took up her whole face, four pairs of hats, a variety of hair dyes for just-in-case scenarios, and enough makeup to last her decades. Vaguely, she wondered just how long Tyler intended to be on the road. Judging from the amount of disguises, they'd be on the run for decades.
She was definitely getting some lewd looks thanks to her tank top and jean skirt. Sitting alone at the table probably didn't help. Miranda felt like a barfly with her heavy makeup and her outfit, but it kept her from being recognizable off the bat. Being just another flirtation in the bar made people forget about her presence, even if there were men eyeing her hungrily. As soon as they saw Tyler coming, they wouldn't bother any further.
Overall uncertainty fumbled through her thoughts. They hadn't met any of Pete's loyal subjects on the road. She was beginning to hope their suicide ploy had worked. But there was still a worry that coiled around her thoughts, ready to strike. It lurked behind, a constant rattle amongst her mind.
She fussed with her shorter hair. It was amazing how being recognizable was a few short inches of hair, sometimes. She finally spotted Tyler - and his bleach blond hair - waltz through the crowd. He sported a pitcher of beer, two glasses, and a cocked grin.
Shamelessly, he had taken delight in their last few days. It almost felt like a vacation. A thought pinged at the back of his head, hard and hissing. No, this wasn't a vacation. If he let his guard down, Miranda could get hurt. While their three-day trip had been pleasantly uneventful, they'd soon be in San Marta.
Tyler swallowed the chill of uncertainty as he sat down at Miranda's table. He plunked the pitcher and mugs onto the table as her gaze flickered to his face.
Miranda cleared her throat, almost yelling above the bar's din, “So, how much longer ‘til we mak
e it to San Marta?”
“We'll get there tomorrow morning,” he answered, flopping down beside her like a protective barrier to anyone leering. Tyler hadn't missed the looks other patrons gave her. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders as he filled the mugs from the pitcher, single-handed. “I figured we could check into a motel, get dressed, then go to the bank.”
“Good plan. It's almost like you've done this before,” Miranda teased as she took the mug with less alcohol. Over their three days, she had listened to plenty of stories from Tyler. About his life, what 'law-bending' he did, what outright crime he committed even. If she were working with him, he needed to trust her. Miranda had no doubt he did, especially after some of the stories he shared. Her stomach lurched a little and she took a sniff of the beer, her nose wrinkling. The smell interrupted her suddenly uneasy thoughts about Tyler. Before leaving Legacy, she didn't realize how much beer differed from bar to bar.