Page 150 of Tormented
“What are you doing?”
“I untied him,” he says vaguely, as though that’ll explain everything. “Felt wrong doing it without it being fair.”
“And?”
“He knew where there was a letter opener in Mom’s library, but I didn’t.” He hisses, bent at the waist. “Got me good, too.”
The fear and concern that had only just subsided, rush back in with a vengeance. “If you’re hurt, why are we mucking about here?” I jump off the seat. “Let’s go.”
“Baby,” he says with a hint of humor. “I’m fine. Now get back on that fuckin’ seat, I’m not finished with you.”
I grow considerably hot between my legs when he takes the cut, drapes it over the handlebars, and then lifts me with his hands on my waist to place me back on the seat. The whole gentle, yet bossy feel to his actions has me subdued and waiting eagerly to see what he wants.
Sawyer presses in between my legs, reaching between us to undo the button and zipper on my shorts. The pressure in my core, the tension below: I know what he’s going to discover as his hand slips inside my panties.
“Already wet.”
“Is it any surprise?” I reach out and run my palms over his shoulders, admiring the raw strength beneath my fingers. He flexes, and I clench. “Easy.”
His lips spread in a wicked grin, his face still heavily shadowed by the night. With a simple curl of his digits he presses the sweet spot deep inside me. I go limp with a moan, and he catches my weight with his free arm looped behind my back. I reach out blindly, feeling around in front of me until I find what I’m searching for: his belt. He pumps his fingers, priming me as I wrestle his buckle open, and free his straining cock.
My fingers close in a fist around his thick heat, and he hisses.
“Did you ever imagine this would be part of how things went down?” I ask.
He leans closer, taking my bottom lip between his briefly. “Nope.”
“Nice bonus?”
“The best.” He brings his free hand to my jaw, holding me firm, and borderline painful. “You’re never gettin’ away. You get that, right?”
“I wouldn’t want to leave.”
He pulls free, and steps to the rear of the bike. “Straddle it facing me.”
I do as I’m told, but only after I quickly hop off and drop my shorts and panties.
He lets out a heavy breath, his head cocked to the side in disbelief as I hop back onto his bike, legs parted, and my naked pussy slick on the leather. “Jesus, Abbey.”
“What now, pretty boy?”
“This.”
With a growl he grabs ahold of my hips and jerks me down the seat. I fall back, petrified I’m going to tumble off, but he steadies me with a firm palm to my chest. Sawyer gently coaxes my feet in turn onto the stems for his taillights, giving me a little added stability. He shunts me again, a couple more inches toward him so my legs are folded tightly at my hips.
“You better hold on.”
I scramble for purchase on the side of the bike, unsure what I’ve got my hands wrapped around, but he leaves me no time to fuss as he slams himself deep inside. Oh, Lord, yes. Every wired nerve, every last scrap of my unspent energy from worrying that he was okay, explodes and sends me into overload. The Harley rocks with his thrusts, but being the heavy beast it is, it holds up.
Myself? Not so much.
He’s barely been inside me a minute, but already I can feel the tingles in my toes, the tightness in my chest, and the joy as my endorphins rush through my body on a tidal wave of release. “Fuck, Sawyer. I . . . I can’t.”
He slips the hand on my chest to my breast, and grabs hold. The pain spikes, clashing with the pleasure still swirling inside. The contrast is too much, my over-wired brain making each feel more intense than the other as I struggle to focus on one alone.
“Jesus, Abbey. You got no idea how right this feels, baby.” He grunts with his efforts, possessed and lost in his pleasure.
“I do, pretty boy,” I groan. “I do.”