Page 37 of Dare You to Run

He groans and rips his mouth from mine. “Fuck, Dagen. We are at least fifteen minutes away from my house.”

“Then you better drive fast, Mr. Big Bad Wolf.”

With a crooked grin he asks, “Big Bad Wolf?”

I nod and explain. “Yes, because I have a feeling you’re going to eat me alive.”

“Oh little mouse. You have no idea.”

He grips on to my waist and adjusts me on the seat. His legs are thrown over the side of his bike and he grabs at the clothing we just discarded.

“Hurry. Put these on.” He holds the jacket open for me and I slide my arms in.

He hurriedly zips me up before placing the helmet on my head and securing it, then rushes to slip into his jacket and gloves and helmet.

“Hang on,” he growls and I wrap my hands around him.

He fires up his bike and the loud turr of the engine breaks over the sound of the crashing waves. A hand reaches back and splays over my ass, pulling me closer to him until I’m practically glued to his back.

“Just like I thought. Perfect backpack,” his gruff voice says through the bluetooth speaker.

My head jerks as he tears off and I count down the miles until we get to his house.

The garage door opens at the slowest pace and Hendrix revs the motor anxiously. Once there’s enough room, he whips us inside and comes to a screeching halt.

Our helmets meet the concrete floor with a crash and I gasp.

“You’re going to scratch them.”

“I can buy a thousand goddamn helmets, but I’ll only be able fuck you for the first time, once.”

We jump off his bike and he grabs my hand, pulling me through the garage and across the breezeway into the house. He doesn’t stop, dragging me through the living room and down a hallway that leads to what I assume is his bedroom.

The door flies open and I see the outline of furniture under the dim moonlight that filters in from the windows. He doesn’t bother with the lights nor closing the door. I guess since we’re the only ones here, why worry about things like privacy.

I’m dazed when he lifts me up over his shoulder and yanks my shoes off.

I screech and remind him, “I can do that. I’m not a child.”

“You can’t do it fast enough, and I need you now.” My shoes are thrown across the room and he works my leggings over my ass.

A sharp pain has me yelping when he digs his teeth into it. Now I’m worried that his more may be too much.

He sets me on my feet, pushes my back against the windows, and drops to his knees to rip off my leggings and panties. A maniacal laugh rumbles from his chest and I grow embarrassed, thinking something is wrong. I don’t have time to ponder on it though, because he clamps his mouth to my soaked pussy and begins drinking me down.

My head hits the glass with a thud and I squeeze my eyes shut. The feel of his tongue licking and his mouth gorging is blissful. The tingle that starts at my toes radiates up to my breasts as my nipples harden.

I grip the hem of my t-shirt and whisk it rapidly over my head. My bra is more of a struggle as I wear a sports bra. It’s the most difficult act I’ve performed on a normal basis. But with Hendrix not easing up, it’s a feat near impossible. But once I’m free, I breathe a sigh of relief that he didn’t falter.

He looks up at me and all I see is the bright blue ocean in his eyes staring up at me.

“Are those real?” He pants.

“Are what real?”

“Your tits.” I nod, my brow furrowed as to why he asks. “Fuck.Juicy lips, a sweet pussyandplump tits? Dagen McCallan, you are every bit my dream girl come to life.”

I swoon at his words and feel the way they cause my belly to flutter. It could also be the way he feasts on me like a man who’s never tasted food.