Page 82 of Good Girl Gone Badd

I snorted. “No, you’re not. You graduatedcum laudefrom Penn State. You’re far from dense, Baxter.” I crouched down, picked up my shoes, stuffed one each into the saddlebags of the motorcycle, grabbed his arm and stepped up onto the toe of one of his scuffed black boots—which he was wearing with his tuxedo—and swung up onto the back of the motorcycle behind him, clinging to his waist and snugging up as close to him as I could get, taking a moment to arrange the train of my dress so it wasn’t in the way and wouldn’t drag or catch on anything. “Does this spell it out for you?”

He rumbled a laugh. “Nope. Need it a little clearer.”

I leaned forward bit his earlobe. “I’m coming with you,” I murmured in his ear. “And later, I’m comingonyou.”

“Damn, girl. Nowthat’sclear.”

I laughed. “I’m curious—did you ever find my little surprise?”

He growled in his chest. “Last night. Came twice in a row, watching it.”

“Wouldn’t you know,” I whispered to him, “I came twice last night, too.”

“Maybe we can do some math, later, make two times two come to…” he bobbled his head back and forth as if calculating, “oh, eight or ten, maybe.”

I laughed. “You’re thinking a little too conservatively, Mr. Badd.”

At that moment, the gathered crowd, which was now watching in stunned silent shock, and probably not a little fascination, began murmuring, as Bax and I were very obviously whispering something dirty to each other as I straddled the back of a motorcycle.

“Now see here!” Thomas stomped forward angrily. “You can’t just—and she can’t—” He swiveled to face my father. “Lawrence,dosomething. Control your daughter!”

Baxter pivoted to glance at me over his shoulder, handing me his helmet. “Hold this?”

I took it, keeping the camera pointed at Thomas as Baxter toed out the kickstand, lowered the bike down onto it, and swung off. Baxter rolled his shoulders and shook out his hands, and Thomas backed up a few steps, holding out his hands.

“No, wait,wait—” He glanced at Teddy, head of security. “DO SOMETHING! He’s going to attack me!”

Teddy quirked an eyebrow, glanced at me, and then gave a tiny shake of his head, and all the bodyguards—who had been tensed to move—stood down, watching impassively from behind mirrored sunglasses.

Baxter halted a few feet from Thomas, shrugging his shoulders, bouncing on the balls of his feet, and shaking his hands in preparation for a fight—it was all show, meant to intimidate and scare Thomas, and it was working.

“Want a free shot, pussy-boy?” Baxter tapped his jaw. “Go for it, pop me one.”

“What?” Thomas had no idea what was even going on. “What are you talking about? I’m not fighting you.”

“No? Fine by me. But don’t whine later on that I didn’t give you a fair shot,” Baxter said.

And then Baxter struck.

Bax’s fist rocketed out, impacting Thomas’s jaw with an audible, sickeningcrunch, and Thomas twisted and fell to the ground, out cold.

“Sorry, but I promised myself awhile ago that if I ever got the chance, I’d hit that fucker. Had to make good on it, y’know?”

I kissed his hand, tasting blood. “He’s deserved that and more his whole life.”

Bax thumbed my lips. “Ready?”

I lifted up on the footrests of the bike to kiss him. “Ready.”

He kissed me, a long, slow, deep, erotic, private kiss, and then swung on in front of me, bringing the bike to life. “Put that helmet on, princess.”

I ripped off the veil and tossed it aside so I could shove the helmet on, and then clutched Bax with a squeal as we tore away from the ruins of my wedding, turf spitting out from the rear wheel.

We rode for a little over an hour, and I felt exhilarated in every second of it, clinging to him, laughing as we crested hills and rounded bends, leaning into it—he had given me some basic instructions when we left the venue about how to safely ride behind him, leaning into turns and all that, and I took to it like a fish to water.

We were in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by rolling fields, trees to either side about a mile or so away, no traffic in either direction for at least twenty minutes.

As we rode, I thought of the videos I’d left him. The things I’d talked about in that video, the fantasies I’d conjured up for us, and how many times I’d made myself come over the last few weeks, thinking of Bax, of doing those things to him.