Page 24

Samantha

There’s a moment before my shirt comes off, before I kick my pants off into the grass and toss myself at him, that I feel so inordinately lucky. Lucky and grateful. Diesel’s a man so deeply loyal, even to a ghost, that if there’s one person I can trust to keep me safe through this nightmare, it’s him. Beneath that rugged exterior, that half-handsome, half-grating smirk that makes me want to both kiss and slap him, is a heart that will hoist heaven and hell on his shoulders to protect the people he loves.

And I might be one of those people.

Maybe not with a word so strong as ‘love,’ at least not yet, but I can’t deny what I feel and how I feel when I’m with him. How distant danger seems, how my skin tingles and aches to touch his, how my heart races just thinking about what we can do together.

I see a man who has carried a flame for a dead woman, even though it burns him.

I see a man who threw himself into torture, to protect a friend he loves.

I see a man who cares so deeply about the people in his life that he’d endure anything for them with a smile on his face, with relentless enthusiasm, all because they matter in ways so profound he can’t even express it. That is the same passion that guides me, that resonates with me, and draws me to him like metal to a magnet.

He gives, and gives, and gives, until it hurts, until he bleeds, until there’s nothing less, and then he prepares to give some more.

Sighing from somewhere deep inside me, I wrap him up, feel my breasts against his abs, kiss him — starting at his chest, then working upwards — rising on my toes to push my lips to his.

“Out here?” His question is a deep rumble in his chest that reverberates against mine.

“Here. Now.” Anywhere. Everywhere. Always.

“I’m starting to doubt you’re actually a social worker…”

His question comes with more vibrations, more kisses that take my breath away and leave me feeling like I’ve shoved my fingers in a light socket.

“Because you found me in a strip club and I don’t mind having sex outside with a man I’m attracted to?”

“I thought your type lived for the rules and walked around with sticks up your assess…”

I wink. “Maybe I prefer something other than a stick up there.”

“You serious?” His eyes darken with lust, and I can’t hold back a laugh.

“Maybe,” I say, my hands working at the buttons of his jeans. “But let’s focus on the present moment and getting your cock out first.”

There’s a satisfying zip as I get his jeans open, followed by an even-more satisfying moan as I reach into his pants and take hold of his cock. He twitches at my touch, and I can’t resist giving his cock a squeeze.

“Present moment sounds good, whatever the fuck that means,” he moans.

I take hold of the waistband of his jeans, pull them and his underwear down as I lower myself to my knees. His cock is right where I want it — right in my face.

“It means you’re going to fuck my throat while I suck you.”

I don't hesitate. I take him into my mouth eagerly. His sharp inhale tells me I've caught him by surprise, but he recovers quickly, his hands tangling in my hair as I work my lips up and down his shaft.

The grass is cool beneath my knees, the forest air crisp on my bare skin, but Diesel radiates heat, his body warm and solid before me. I lose myself in the taste of him, the musky scent of his skin, the way his muscles tense and relax under my hands as I grip his thighs.

"Fuck, Samantha," he groans, his hips moving in sync with my mouth.

I hum in response, and the vibrations make him gasp. His grip on my hair tightens, guiding me as he thrusts deeper. I relax my throat, take him deeper, revel in the feeling of him filling my mouth completely.

The sounds of the forest fade away.

It’s just us. I'm hyper-aware of every sensation — the weight of him on my tongue, the ache in my jaw, the throbbing between my legs. Diesel's movements become more erratic, his breathing ragged. "Fuck it, Samantha, I'm close," he warns, trying to pull back.

I let him go reluctantly, then stand and slip my hand around his cock, giving it a tight squeeze. “We don’t want that now, do we?”

He shakes his head, and a light comes into his eyes. “We don’t. I think this is what we both want.” Suddenly, he takes hold of me by my hips and spins me around, and then, with a hand on my back, bends me over his bike.

“What are you doing?” I gasp.

“Shut up and let me taste you.”

His tongue touches me somewhere unexpected, and the sensation is so sensually sharp that I slam my hand onto the seat of his motorcycle.

“Are you going to…?”

“Tongue-fuck your asshole? Yeah, I fucking am.”

The sensation is unlike anything I've ever experienced before; his tongue probes and teases, sending jolts of pleasure through my body. I grip the motorcycle seat tighter, my knuckles turning white as I struggle to keep my balance.

"Oh God, Diesel," I moan, and push myself back against his face.

He growls in response. His hands grip my ass cheeks, spreading them wider as he delves deeper with his tongue. I'm lost in a haze of pleasure, my mind blank except for the feeling of his mouth on me. The cold metal of the motorcycle against my bare skin is just enough of a shock to remind me I’m not in heaven, that I am on earth, in this clearing, with this man — this man that I want so deeply — eating my ass.

Suddenly, Diesel pulls away.

Before I can protest the loss, the head of his cock is at my entrance. He pauses, giving me a moment to adjust to the new sensation.

"You ready for this?" he asks, his voice husky with desire.

"Yes," I breathe. "Please, Diesel. I need you to fuck me."

He pushes forward slowly, filling me inch by inch. The stretch is intense, bordering on painful, but the pleasure outweighs anything else. I bite my lip to stifle a cry.

"Fuck, you're tight," he groans, his hands gripping my hips firmly.

He moves, setting a steady rhythm that has me seeing stars. The forest around us fades away, leaving me with nothing but the sensation of our two bodies joined. I feel every inch of him inside me, stretching me, filling me completely. The initial discomfort gives way to waves of pleasure that crash over me with each thrust. Diesel's hands roam my body, cupping my breasts, teasing my nipples, before settling back on my hips to guide our movements.

"God damn, Samantha," he grunts, his pace quickening. "You feel fucking amazing."

I can only moan in response, words escaping me as the sensations build. I push back against him, meeting his thrusts, wanting him deeper, harder.

My knuckles pop as I squeeze the motorcycle seat in a desperate effort to hold on, to stay standing, to not explode in a whipsaw wave of ecstasy. Each thrust sends a jolt through my body, pushing me closer to the edge. I can feel my orgasm building, a tight coil of pleasure low in my belly.

"Diesel, I'm close," I gasp. “Oh fuck, I’m so close. Fuck my ass. Fuck it harder.”

He responds by reaching around and his fingers find my clit, rubbing in gentle circles.

"Come for me, Samantha," Diesel growls in my ear, his breath hot against my neck.

His words, combined with the relentless rhythm of his hips and fingers, push me over the edge. My orgasm crashes over me in waves that threaten to rip me to pieces. I yell, I shout, I holler, I push my body back into his, leaning on him for support as I break apart to my core. His name echoes through the forest as I scream.

“Diesel. Oh fuck, Diesel. Fuck. I’m coming.”

The intensity of my climax triggers Diesel's own release. He thrusts deep, holds me tight against him as he comes with a guttural groan. I feel the warmth of his release inside me and shiver. For a moment, we stay connected, while both of us pant and caress each other. The forest seems unnaturally quiet now, as if holding its breath. Slowly, carefully, Diesel pulls out, and I wince at the loss. I turn to face him, my legs shaky. His face is flushed, hair tousled, eyes bright with satisfaction. I can't help but smile as a deep contentment settles over me.

"That was..." I start, but words fail me.

"Yeah," Diesel agrees. "It was."

We stand there for a moment, my head resting on his chest, listening to his heartbeat slowly return to normal. The reality of our situation creeps back in, but I push it away, wanting to savor this moment of peace.

"We should probably get dressed," Diesel says eventually, though he doesn't make any move to let me go.

I nod against his chest. "Probably. But not yet."

He chuckles. "You're full of surprises, Samantha."

I lean back to look at him, raising an eyebrow. "Good surprises, I hope?"

"The best kind," he says. His voice sounds different. Lighter. As if he might be letting go of something that he so desperately needs to let go of. In that pause, that breath between moments, I rise and kiss him. “The kind I want to keep discovering.”

“I think I’d like that.”

Diesel cups my chin in his hand, kisses me, and looks into my eyes. Sincerity burns within them, and I lean into him.

“It’s strange. I don't feel like I'm betraying her when I'm with you. Instead, it feels… right. Necessary. She would have wanted me to find someone like you, I think, and she would have hated how I’ve lived ever since she… But I didn’t know any other way. I hated myself for what happened to her. And that pain and blame is just so fucking deep, it feels so much like it’s a part of me as much as the need to fucking breathe. But you… you make me feel like maybe it won’t always be that way. When this is over, I want to figure things out between us. Find a way to make it work. And hopefully get you out of fucking Boise.”

“Hey. I like that place.” I laugh. At least, I think I like that place. Boise’s all I’ve ever known. It’s where I grew up, it’s where my brother lives, and it’s a place I feel useful, needed. But is it good for me? Or is it a place that’s going to use me up, make me give and give and give until I have nothing left, and then dispose of me when all that remains to me is an empty, useless shell?

Maybe Diesel did more to save my life than just rescuing me from that strip club.

He runs his thumb along my chin and kisses me once more. It’s slow. Tender. Makes my skin warm, and the rest of me ready to melt into him. “It's a fucking godawful hellhole and I’m being kind by saying that.”

I punch him in the shoulder. “You’re an asshole.”

“Guilty as charged. But that doesn’t mean I’m not right about Boise.”

“You’re going to make me put my clothes back on if you keep talking like that.”

“Funny how you’d choose to use that threat instead of coming up with legitimate reasons to support your argument that Boise isn’t a reeking dumpster fire.”

I kiss him, once on the cheek, then twice on the lips.

“I’m getting dressed now. We should go back, anyway.”

I dress, and he does, too. As I slide behind him on the bike and feel the engine rumble between my legs, contentment like I haven’t felt before fills me, and dreams of a future form in my head. Maybe this could work. Not just for the near term, not just for survival, but maybe, just maybe, Ironwood Falls might be a place I can truly live, a place I can thrive. What would it be like to work here, to do good in this community, to support the people in Ironwood Falls who need help, and have a community around me — like the MC, as crazy as that sounds — to support me? To not just be someone who gives and gives, but who also receives love and support and friendship from others in return?

It feels beyond good to dream.

I smile.

Diesel turns his head and looks at me with one of those smirks that both melts me and stiffens my spine. “I’m glad you came along on this ride, Samantha.” A split-second of a pause that makes me want to fill the gap of silence by crawling up his back and kissing him on the lips, before he continues, “But Boise is still a steaming pile, and nothing you do or say can change that.”

Before I can slap him, he cranks the accelerator and we tear onto the road so fast that all I can do is hold on to him for dear life while something between a laugh and a scream erupts from my lips.

Yes, he might be an asshole.

But he’s my asshole.