Page 13 of Egg Me On (Front Range Motorcycle Collective #1)

Cash

My hands shook as I yanked at Aiden's shirt, desperate to see more of him, to feel his skin against mine. His monologue, while we’d been riding, had been ninety percent about how horny I made him, at least until he’d realized I could hear him.

Technically, I should have told him there was a radio on the helmet, but seeing him in the leather jacket I’d bought for him, stole all my words. Once again, he managed to be both sexy and cute and a little ridiculous, but in the best possible way.

And on the ride, I’d learned that he had a horny mind and a filthy mouth.

That he wanted me to bend him over the Harley and fuck him on it, to shove my dick deep into his hole.

That he loved riding with me. The last one he’d said toward the end of the ride, after he knew I could hear him. Like he wanted to make sure I knew.

For now, he was going to have to settle for being fucked in the tent, instead of on my Harley, though.

And under the lantern light, he was fucking gorgeous—all smooth skin and subtle definition where I was rough edges and bulk—and I wanted to devour every inch of him.

I’d been attracted to men occasionally before, mostly men like him. Lean, slim, and cute.

He’d told me to prep him, and I wasn’t entirely sure how to do that. And I was kind of frozen. My words weren’t coming. He was so damn beautiful that I couldn’t find words—literally. My voice caught in my throat, and nothing would come out.

Not that that was unusual for me, but with him, I wanted desperately to fix it. Wanted to say all the things that I couldn’t get out.

And my body didn’t want to move.

"I want to see you, too," he whispered, tugging at my shirt, eyes dark with hunger.

I let him pull it off, feeling strangely vulnerable as his gaze raked over my tattoos, my chest, the trail of hair disappearing into my jeans. His fingers traced the geometric patterns inked on my bicep, following the lines down to my forearm, touch feather light but leaving fire in its wake.

The way he pressed forward, doing enough talking for both of us, made me hope he’d gotten accustomed to my problem with words. If I waited long enough, he’d get impatient and start doing the talking for both of us, asking me questions I could answer without words.

I fucking loved that about him.

"I’ve wanted to do this since I first saw you," he confessed, leaning forward to press his lips against a gear design over my heart. “At that point, I was pretty sure you were straight, but I suppose, given the size of your erection and the lube you packed, that you must at least be bi.”

I nodded, and he smiled, kissing his way lower. The wet heat of his mouth sent electricity racing through me, cock hardening painfully against denim that was suddenly too fucking tight.

I fumbled with the button of his jeans, cursing under my breath when my fingers—usually so precise with engines and tools—became clumsy with want.

Aiden laughed softly, the sound vibrating against my skin where his mouth still explored my chest. He reached down, helping me, our fingers tangling as we worked his pants down his hips.

I growled, shoving at fabric, desperate for more skin, more heat, more Aiden beneath me.

He lifted his hips, letting me drag his jeans and underwear down in one rough motion.

My breath caught as his cock sprang free, hard and flushed against his stomach and bigger than I’d imagined it.

The sight of another man’s cock should have been a turnoff, but instead sent a molten surge of desire straight to my groin.

Aiden kicked his pants away, now completely naked in the amber glow of the lantern.

He gazed up at me for one heated moment, then in a fluid motion that stole my breath, he rolled onto his stomach and pushed up onto his knees.

His back arched like a fucking masterpiece, the elegant curve of his spine leading my eyes down to where he reached back with one hand, spreading himself open and bit his bottom lip.

"I’ve imagined having you like this," he said, voice rough with want, looking back over his shoulder at me. "Want you inside me. I think about you riding me like you ride that bike. All that power and drive."

I froze, blood roaring in my ears. His hole fluttered as he spread himself wider, pink and tight, and suddenly the most terrifying and most sexy thing I'd ever seen.

Engines, I understood. Motorcycles, I could take apart and rebuild blindfolded.

But this—a man's body, Aiden's body, waiting for me to know what to do—this was uncharted territory.

"Cash?" Aiden's voice cut through my panic, his brow furrowing, his cheeks turning pink. "Is there something wrong? Did I do too much? I do tend to get a little bold when I’m horny."

Heat crawled up my neck, embarrassment warring with desire as I knelt there, still half-dressed and fully out of my depth, trying to force my words out, but they wouldn’t come. How did I tell him I wanted this without speaking?

I could show him. Show him how hard he made me, show him how much I wanted this. I tore at my jeans, desperate to show him just how hard he made me, and he watched, eyes widening as I bared my cock to him, hard and leaking.

Instead of laughing or pulling away, Aiden's lips curved into a smile that was pure sin, and he licked his lips, reaching out to stroke me, his fingers trailing delicately up and down my shaft in a rhythm that made my whole body quake.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous. But, yeah, I need to prep for something this big.

” He glanced at me, and I gave one curt nod, throat tight, words stuck inside.

I wanted to tell him how good it felt, how beautiful he was, how desperately I wanted to fill him up and wreck his tight little hole, but instead, I just sat there, silent like an idiot.

But Aiden, being Aiden, saw something in my silence that prompted him to keep going.

Biting his bottom lip, he sat back on his knees and reached for the bottle of lube, then squeezed clear gel onto his fingers, slicking them thoroughly.

“Do you want to watch? I can show you how I like to prep myself,” he said.

“I’m really glad I took a shower when we got here, because I’m all pretty and clean for you. Is that okay, me showing you?”

I met his eyes and nodded.

I couldn't tear my eyes away as he leaned forward again, exposing his tight pink hole to me.

With slick fingers, he circled his entrance, teasing himself with slow, deliberate strokes.

He dropped his head to the pile of sleeping bags beneath him and his eyes fluttered closed, lips parting on a soft moan that shot straight to my cock.

"Like this," he breathed, pushing one finger inside himself. "Start slow and gentle. Stretch me open. Coax my body to relax so it can accommodate your size. Feels so good."

Jesus fucking Christ. I'd never seen anything so erotic in my life—Aiden on his knees before me, back arched prettily, working himself open, pleasure washing over his features as he added a second finger.

His cock hung heavy between his legs, leaking onto the sleeping bag.

My own ached in response, straining painfully against my jeans.

He was so fucking beautiful, so bold and open with his sensuality, and I hoped like hell that he knew that, because I couldn’t seem to find the words to tell him. I reached out and massaged his ass, watching him fuck himself on his fingers, body undulating with pleasure.

His eyes opened at that, pupils blown wide with desire. "Touch me," he begged. "Please. Use your fingers on me. Just like I’m doing."

The panic receded, washed away by something hotter, more primal.

I shoved my jeans and underwear down, kicking them off with more urgency than grace, then reached for the lube.

I gripped his wrist, gently pulling his fingers from his body.

He moaned and wiggled his ass looking over his shoulders at me.

“Fuck me with your hand, Cash,” he breathed. “Please?”

I pressed my lips to the knob at the base of his neck, tasting salt and skin as I kissed my way down the elegant curve of his back.

My hands spread his cheeks wider, exposing him fully to my gaze.

Heat poured off him in waves, and I could feel the subtle tremors running through his thighs as he held the position.

I wanted to tell him how perfect he was, but without words, I only had my hands, my lips, my tongue, and I did everything I could to make him feel delicious.

I took things slow, exploring every inch of him.

I traced his entrance with one finger, marveling at the tight ring of muscle, at how it quivered beneath my touch.

Aiden gasped, pushing back against me, silently begging for more.

I obliged, pressing one finger slowly inside him, groaning at the tight heat that gripped me.

"Fuck, yes," Aiden hissed, head dropping forward between his shoulders. "More, Cash. Please."

I worked him open carefully, adding a second finger when his body relaxed around the first. The sounds he made—breathy whimpers and broken moans—drove me wild, made me want to replace my fingers with my cock so badly I could barely think straight.

But I forced myself to go slow, to stretch him properly, curling my fingers experimentally until—

"Holy fuck!" Aiden cried out, body jolting. "Right there. God, right there."

I pressed against the spot again, watching in fascination as he writhed beneath me, completely undone by my touch.

Power surged through me, heady and intoxicating.

I could do this. I could make him feel good.

It didn’t matter that he was a man. It didn’t matter that I couldn’t find the words that I needed, only that he was sexy as hell to me, and that I could take him apart with my hands, my cock, my mouth.

"Need you," he gasped, pushing back hard against my fingers. "Now, Cash. Need your cock inside me. Please, baby."