Page 124 of Reckoning

Koen

Ineed a distraction.

Sofia needs a distraction too.

I can see it in her eyes as she watches me making her breakfast. I can see that questioning look, like she’s doesn’t think she’s worth it, worth all the effort I’m going to.

I don’t know what shit her therapist talks about but he clearly doesn’t bother addressing her self-esteem because that’s rock fucking bottom, despite my best efforts.

“We’re going out.” I state once we’ve eaten and I’ve cleared the plates.

Her eyebrows rise. “Where?”

“For a ride.”

“I’m not good enough to be out on the streets.” She replies quickly.

My lips quirk. I wouldn’t risk her out there, not yet anyway.

“You’ll be on my bike.” I say. “Up front, where I can keep you safe.”

She rolls her eyes, takes a final swig of her coffee and mutters about needing to be appropriately dressed in that case. When she comes back down she’s wearing new leathers, ones she must have bought. If I thought the old ones made her look good these are something else.

“Turn around.” I bark.

She bites her lip like she knows exactly what she’s up to and she turns slowly, showing that perfect bubble butt.

I groan before I can stop myself. Yeah, one day soon I am going to take a real bite out of that arse whether she likes it or not.

* * *

The engine roars beneath me.

Sofia is upfront, sat perfectly between my thighs. Her hands and gripping the bike beneath her and I know in many ways she’d be more comfortable behind me with her arms wrapped around my body.

Only, I won’t be comfortable like that. I want her arse pressed into me, I want her body flat against mine. If she’s at my back it’ll be harder to pay attention to her behaviour, harder to recognise if she suddenly freaks out.

A dozen or so bikes are around us.

We look like a swarm as we ride out into the busy Verona streets.

My blood seems to hum in my veins. I tighten my grip and speed up, revelling in the flash of freedom that hits me.

Sofia clings to me, her hands grip tightly to my thighs. Last time we didn’t go half as fast but I’m not being reckless. I’d never risk her safety, not like this. And besides, under that innocent exterior, I know she gets off on the adrenaline. That’s half the reason she picks those fights with me, she likes the feeling of fear pumping in her veins.

She hates that she likes it.

She’s ashamed that she does. And yet it gets her off.

Me scaring the shit out of her gets her more horny than anything else. I know if I truly force her, if I pin her down and take her the way I’ve imagined, forced, violent, unforgivingly, she’d come even harder than she has to date.

She’d come all of my cock.

I groan, shifting my hips, grinding myself against her. Maybe I should do it. Pick a fight, instigate some sort of situation to make her blow up and finally give me an excuse to cross that line.

It wouldn’t exactly be hard. I know her pressure points, her triggers. All I have to do is act like she’s fragile, precious, not strong enough and she’ll fly right off the handle at me.

And yet, would I be satisfied with that? Surely it would feel better for the moment to arise by her own hand. To let her seal her own fate and then suffer the brutal consequences.