Page 1 of Loving Ohio (State of Us)

Chapter One

Christian

N othing beats this feeling.

Spinning through the air, fifty feet off the ground, with two hundred and fifty pounds of solid machinery vibrating between my legs while the crowd goes fucking insane.

Pura perfección.

Leaning back, I maneuver my dirt bike into a flip, closing my eyes briefly when my ass leaves the seat.

Above the roaring engine, my best friend Taylor's whoop of joy reaches my ears when he follows suit, our bikes intersecting midair.

I reacquaint myself with the sky, the landing ramp coming into focus.

My bike barely reaches an upright position when my wheels slam onto solid surface.

Adrenaline surges through my blood as the people watching our stunt-bike show scream for us, my cock thumping in my jock-strap.

Fuck, this shit gets me hard.

Like I said—nothing else beats the feeling of ninety miles per hour. Not even sex. Though it comes real fucking close.

Riding out onto the tarmac, I circle Taylor with my two-stroke, gearing up for our last trick of the evening—a two-person flip.

We took our Tour of Terror on the road a month ago, but this stunt only made its debut when we were in Kentucky last week.

It went viral, getting massive amounts of social media attention, for obvious reasons. Chicks fucking dig it.

Taylor swings off his bike, strutting across the stadium as he hams it up for the crowd. Fucker thinks he's the shit.

This place is huge, built to accommodate everything from rodeos and monster truck rallies to high-energy stunt shows—like ours.

The scents of dust and engine oil linger in the air, mixing with the faint sweetness of funnel cakes drifting in from the fairgrounds.

Massive floodlights line the perimeter, bathing the arena in a harsh glow.

This is my happy place.

As Taylor draws closer, I scoot back and pat the seat in front of me, blowing a kiss to my best friend. “Come on, carino , sit on Papi’s lap.”

“Fuck off, I'm switching with Dev tonight.”

My brows furrow as I watch him wave to his fans. “What gives, fool? We never switch places.”

“Yeah, so?” He slaps the side of my helmet. “Salem suggested it. She says everyone is foaming at the mouth for him.”

As if on cue, the man himself waltzes out from beneath the stands, dressed in similar moto gear as us, his helmet tucked beneath one arm. His long legs propel him across the tarmac, but he doesn't even acknowledge the crowd currently chanting his name.

To be completely honest, Dev is an asshole. We added him to some of our stunts last week, and he's quickly become a fan favorite. It's the whole bad boy vibe he gives off, all the tattoos and piercings. Ladies love that shit.

So do dudes, apparently.

His head tilts when he nears the bike, brown strands falling over his forehead.

Without hesitating, he mounts the bike behind me, wrapping muscled arms around my waist. “What a nice surprise,” he breathes in my ear, his pierced lip tickling my lobe.

“A Dev and Christian sandwich. My dreams have come true.”

“You good to steer this time?” Taylor asks, voice filtering through the Bluetooth in my helmet.

I toss him a look over my shoulder. “The fuck kind of question is that?”

“A valid one. We've never done it this way before.”

Devon slides on his helmet with a low, rumbling chuckle that does weird shit to my stomach. “I'm vers. Always down to switch positions.”

That makes Taylor snicker when he steps back, but I roll my eyes, facing forward to start the motor. “Just lean when you're supposed to and we won't have a problem.”

Engaging the clutch, I propel us forward, the crowd shouting when I circle the ramp a few times. To be fair, I've always been the one on the back, and the difference in weight does take a minute to adjust for. It feels like I'm treading water.

Eyeing the distance between us and the ramp, I try to calculate how much speed we'll need for our added weight. Just when I'm about to throttle ahead, Devon's thighs tighten around my hips, his crotch pressing into my lower back, and…

The motherfucker is hard.

What the fuck?

“Any time now,” Tay says impatiently. The unexpected sound makes me jump, which only causes Dev to hold me tighter.

“I'm getting there, fucker, just let me think.”

It shouldn't be this difficult to figure out our trajectory. I've been doing this shit with Tay since we were five. But between the two-stroke vibrating between my legs and Devon's goddamn anaconda impaling my spine, my own cock is straining against my jock.

Fuck me.

It's not that I like dick. I very much love my girlfriend's pussy, but I won't lie, seeing her get railed within an inch of her life turns me on.

That's all this is. Devon has been flirting with her since we started the tour, and the two even started making out while I watched.

It's hot as hell. I just want to fuck her with him, that's all. Nothing to worry about.

Shaking myself out of it, I push us toward the ramp, gradually increasing speed. As we hit the slope, we both lean back, pulling the bike into a backflip when the wheel finds air.

Devon groans deep, grinding on me as we fly through empty space, and I grit my teeth when the sound shoots right to my balls. Fucking hell . Everything the asshole does oozes sex.

I’ve fantasized about the three of us more than once, and I may or may not have made Arya come last night while whispering those dirty thoughts into her ear.

The bike rights itself just before we crash onto the landing ramp, the impact jolting my bones. When the crowd goes absolutely feral, Tay's scream nearly ruptures my eardrums. “Fuck yeah, that's what I'm talking about!”

Dev chuckles, his warmth leaving my back the moment we roll to a stop, and I watch him hop off the two-stroke before stalking away without a word. No glance back, no wave to the fans, fucking nada. Mysterious as shit. Sometimes I wonder what goes on inside that asshole's head.

Tay steps up next to me, throwing his hands in the air as Salem, our marketing manager, rushes to hand us a microphone. She's dressed in shorts and a tank top, bright red waves cascading down her back. Girl’s been our ride-or-die since we were in high school.

“How we doing tonight, Cleveland?!” Taylor shouts into the mic, dark hair highlighted in purple sticking to his neck with sweat.

When the fans get louder, cameras flashing under the fairground lights, he turns his blue-green eyes on me, grinning wide.

“My Twin of Terror executed that flip perfectly, huh?

We decided to switch it up for you all. Let's give Christian Totillo some love!”

Sweeping my gaze across the crowd, all the ToT signs have my mouth kicking up into a grin. Some are even drawn with rainbows and pride flags for Taylor.

We've gotten so much support from our fans since starting this tour, and it's been nothing but fantastic. There are always a few hateful comments here and there on social media, but Salem’s been a pro at combating that shit. For the most part, it's all been love—the way it should be.

As Taylor gets the crowd going for Dev, I step off my bike, sweaty tendrils of dark brown hair breaking free of the elastic fighting to contain them.

Blowing an errant strand out of my eye, I take the mic when he offers it to me.

“We had a blast tonight. You've all been amazing. We appreciate you so much, and we’ll be here all week.

As with all our shows, a portion of the proceeds over the next five days will be sent to the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention, and we can't thank you enough for helping us contribute. Much love from the Twins of Terror, Tottman and Totillo. Good night, Ohio!”

With shouts and screams at our backs, we jump onto the bike. This time, I slide behind Tay, hollering as he does a burnout. He fish-tails us into a few doughnuts, and in true Taylor fashion, he pops a wheelie before we disappear underneath the stands.

The minute we come to a stop, my girlfriend is on me, jumping into my arms before I've even made it off the bike. Taylor’s already gone, booking it for his boyfriend, Huckslee. Codependent fuck.

“That was so hot , babe,” Arya coos, wrapping her legs around my waist, and I grin when I pull off my helmet.

“Fuck yeah, it was. You like that shit, mi reina ? Make you all hot for me?”

“Mmhmm.” Her lips press into mine, tasting so fucking sweet, like strawberry lip gloss and… cigarettes ?

Arya doesn't smoke.

Pulling back, she gives me a sheepish grin, and I cock my brow as I dip my hands beneath the hem of her dress. “Have you been a naughty girl?”

Her dark blue eyes ignite with heat, shifting to the left, where I catch Devon watching us as he puffs on a smoke. His moto jacket hangs from his waist, full sleeve of tattoos dancing up his arm.

Fuck, I really need to get out of this jock strap. Out of these clothes , so I can make my girl come again. And again.

Preferably with her body trapped between mine and Devon's.