Coder and I sleep in Sunday morning. Even after we’re both awake, we only get out of bed long enough to use the bathroom, and then we’re both right back underneath his sheets, cuddled in each other’s arms. The house is quiet, Jimmy and Mark still sound asleep, and Rigs at work in Wyoming for another week. As if neither of us wants to disrupt the quiet, lazy haze of the morning, we speak softly to one another, wondering how the kids are doing this morning and remembering the hours we spent at the hospital the day before.
Our conversation soon trails off into sweet kisses as Coder’s lips find mine, his tongue speaking in a language I’ve come to adore. I follow his lead, and he doesn’t take things very far. His hands wander, making my body buzz in excitement, but he doesn’t push for more. It’s romantic and sexy, and I lose track of time as I lose myself in his affection, loving every second.
When he pulls away, it’s with a groan. He buries his face in my neck, and I hold his head in my hands. He doesn’t say a word, but as he hugs me close against his body, his erection pressing against my thigh, I know in my heart that he’s protecting me. Running my fingers through his hair, I understand that as gentle as he’s been all morning, it wasn’t for him but for me. Without asking, I get the impression that he’s going crazy on the inside, wanting more than what I’ve told him I’m ready for; but he loves me enough not to push me.
In this moment, I know I have a decision I need to make—and soon.
I don’t pay attention to how long we lay together before his erection goes away and he lifts his head. He stares into my eyes and takes a deep breath, kissing my forehead before he climbs out of bed, announcing, “Hope you packed jeans, babe. We’re on the bike today.”
March has definitely arrived, and spring is in the air—the snow having melted away a couple of weeks ago. There’s no telling if it’ll snow again tomorrow, but the last few days have been really nice, making me really excited about the prospect of getting to go for a ride on Coder’s motorcycle. Propping myself up on my elbows, I ask, “Seriously?”
“Would have been on it weeks ago, but I’ve got this girl I’ve been cartin’ around.” He turns and winks at me, then pulls a fresh pair of boxer briefs from his dresser as he tells me, “Been in the cage long enough, Mack—need to feel some power between my legs.” I blush, no longer certain we’re still talking about his bike. “Gonna hop in the shower then go wake up my beast. When you’re ready, we’ll head to Harvey’s, yeah?”
“Okay,” I murmur with a nod.
He pauses when he reaches his door, his eyes scanning the length of me before he shakes his head and takes his leave. I plop back down against his pillow, the scent of him wafting around me, and I groan.
He definitely wasn’t talking about the bike.
I take a quick shower, deciding not to shampoo my hair, assuming that riding on the back of a motorcycle in early March with wet hair would lead to a wicked cold. Instead, I part it down the side, braid the front, and gather it into a messy bun at the nape of my neck. When Coder returns to his room, finding me in a pair of jeans and one of my flannel button-ups, he digs out a hoodie, draping it over my shoulders with instructions to wear it underneath my coat. I do as he says, sliding my feet into my black Chucks before he leads me outside.
If I had to describe his motorcycle in one word, I wouldn’t hesitate to call it sexy. The brand name on the side tells me that it’s a Ducati, but that means very little to me. What I know is that it’s black and sleek and sexy. Just the thought of riding on the back makes my stomach clench. It isn’t until Coder fits a helmet on my head—the kind that snaps underneath my chin—that I start to get nervous.
“Eyes up, Mack,” he insists. My eyes snap up to meet his obediently. “You look scared. Are you?”
“I’ve just never—”
“Do you trust me?”
My shoulders sag as I reach for his hand and insist, “Of course, I do.”
“All right, then don’t be scared. I got you. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
Nodding, I whisper, “I know.”
“Few ground rules, yeah?” His hand still holding mine, he tells me a few things I need to know while riding at his back. I listen carefully, willing myself to be brave. When he’s done, he smashes a quick kiss against my lips and then reaches for his helmet. He slides it on over his head, his visor still raised, and then climbs onto his bike. Holding his hand out, he helps me straddle the seat behind him before he tells me, “Hands in my pockets, babe. Hold on tight.”
I do as he says, shoving my hands in his jacket pockets, holding him so tightly, I’m practically plastered against his back.
I hear it as he grunts, “Fuck,” before he lowers his helmet visor and starts the engine.
The vibration between my legs surprises me, and I press my knees tighter against Coder. When he pulls out of the driveway, my breath catches in my throat, and I close my eyes as my stomach drops in fear. Then, as he speeds down the street, I start to relax when I get the sense that he’s in complete control. He knows what he’s doing, and I don’t have any reason to be afraid. I remind myself of this a couple times, then draw in a deep breath before I open my eyes.
The wind against my face is cold, but I don’t mind. It feels good being wrapped around Coder as we ride. With my eyes now open, I notice he’s taking a different route to the Payton house. There’s something about the way he handles every stop, every curve, and every turn that makes me think he’s done this a million times. I can feel how comfortable he is, how free he feels, and I now fully understand why he calls his Bronco his cage. Furthermore, I’m wholly aware that this is my true Coder—this is Motorcycle Boots—the man who controls this bike and wields all the power that it holds.
My man might not be a knight in shining armor, like the princes from the fairytales found in the children’s books I’ve read so many times I could recite them from memory; nevertheless, he is the master of this beast—and it is sexy, and I love it.
When we finally arrive at our destination, Coder pulls up into the driveway, turning the bike off before lowering the kickstand. He lifts his visor on his helmet, glancing over his shoulder as he asks, “You good, babe?”
I nod against his back, too overwhelmed to find my words. I’m a little bit disappointed that we couldn’t ride for longer; I’m definitely reluctant to let go of Coder; and I’m way turned on.
“Mack, you can let go now. Need to get you inside. I’m sure you’re cold.”
It actually isn’t until he says something that I realize he’s right. I’m freezing, which suddenly brings me back to reality. I loosen my arms from around him, taking the hand he offers to help me climb off of the bike. The second both of my feet are on the ground, I lose my balance, my legs feeling unsteady. Coder catches me around the waist, pulling me against his side, his thigh suddenly wedged between mine.
“You okay?”
“Um—I—yeah. Just need a second.”
He smirks, holding me tighter as he mutters, “Okay, babe. Take your time.”
“That was fun.”
“I know,” he says with a grin. “Get used to it.”
“’Kay.”
He shoves his helmet over his face, so that it rests on top of his head, and then leans in and kisses my lips. “Felt good having you back there.”
I bite my lip in a failed attempt to hide my smile before I admit, “I’m kind of excited about our ride home, now.”
“You and me both.” He claps a hand against my backside, making me jump. With a chuckle, he asks, “Ready to head inside?”
I nod, holding onto him as I take a couple steps back. Sure that my legs are now reliable, I let him go and then unbuckle the helmet before I take it off. He dismounts, pulling his helmet off as well. He holds it in one hand, taking mine in the other, and then we make our way to the front door.
As per usual, we let ourselves inside without so much as a knock. I learned that on Sundays, the Payton’s have a no-knock policy; just one more detail that makes everyone feel at home. We follow the noise of conversation into the den, and we find that everyone has already congregated there. I know this to mean that whatever Grace has made for the day is either in the oven or already finished and just waiting to be served.
“Holy shit!” calls out Harvey as he looks over and sees us.
“Oh, wow,” says Daphne, smiling our way as she absentmindedly smooths her hand over her now prominent belly.
“Saw that comin’,” pipes in Pete.
I feel my cheeks heat in a blush as I look up at Coder, confusion tugging at my brow. “What are they talking about?” I whisper.
“Oh, my god, he put her on the back of his bike!” Willow cheers.
I glance her way for just a second before I fix my gaze on Coder once more, still waiting for an answer to my question. Smirking down at me, he murmurs, “No one’s been on the back of my bike since the accident.”
My heart skips a beat, my eyebrows shooting up in surprise as I squeak out, “No one?”
He leans in and presses his mouth against my temple as he mumbles, “Just you, babe.”
It’s in this very moment that I make up my mind. As I repeat his words over in my head, I know that they are the same words I’d use to answer the question that’s been rattling around my brain for the last few weeks. Over and over I’ve asked myself, who have I been waiting for? Who have I been saving myself for?
My husband?
A man that I love?
A boyfriend that I crave?
Yet, all the while, the answer has been right beside me.
I hear the question whispered in my ear once more—
Who have you been saving yourself for?
And as I stare up into my favorite pair of dark brown eyes, I answer—
Just you.
After lunch, instead of watching a movie, we play word games. The first game calls for two teams, so we split up and play boys versus girls. During the second round, we play the Bishops and their women versus the Paytons and the Rockwells. Then, after a game change, we couple off and play in pairs against each other. It’s so much fun, and we laugh so much that my sides ache.
When Daphne and Trevor start gathering their things to take Caroline home, Coder announces that we’ll be leaving, too. It’s just after seven, the sun has set, and he wants to get me home before the temperature drops too low. As soon as we step outside and we’re alone, my stomach knots up in nerves. I want to tell him what I decided earlier, but I’m not sure how. Before he slides his helmet on, I force his name through my lips.
“Mack?” he asks in reply.
I swallow hard as I look up at him. Not knowing what to say, I take the easy way out. “Can I stay with you again tonight?”
“What’d I tell you about that?” he replies with a smirk.
I chew my bottom lip as I step closer to him, and he wraps an arm around my shoulders when I press myself against his chest and say, “I want to stay with you tonight. Please don’t take me home.”
“You got it, babe. Now put that helmet on. Let’s get the hell out of here.”
I do as he says, and we mount his bike before he eases out into the street and guns it out of the neighborhood. He doesn’t take me to his place right away. Rather, we spend an hour on the bike, riding the back roads around town. He takes me on routes I’ve never traveled before, and I wonder what it would look like during the day. I’m sure I don’t even have to ask for him to bring me back when the sun is out.
By the time we make it back to his place, I’m wrapped around him so tight, in an attempt to keep warm, I never want to let him go. He feels amazing, and I feel like I belong to him in such a significant way when we’re on this bike. Then I think about what I want to do with him when we get inside, and hiding behind his back for a little while longer seems like a really great idea. When he taps my balled up fists in his jacket, signaling me to let go, I shake my head and seal my eyes closed tight. I want him so badly, but I’m afraid that when I try and tell him, the words won’t come out right.
I hear it as he lifts his visor, twisting around to ask me, “Babe—you good?”
I give him a squeeze, but I don’t answer him. My body moves with his as he reaches up to slide his helmet from over his head. He takes one of his hands and shoves it in his pocket with mine, wrapping his cold fingers around my fist.
“Mack, what’s wrong?”
Knowing that if I don’t speak soon, I’ll probably start to freak him out, I lift my head and bring my lips as close to his ear as I can manage. Willing myself to be brave, and challenging myself to be the woman I see when I look into his gorgeous, dark eyes, I whisper, “Honey, do you have any condoms?”
His body gives the most minute jolt. I wouldn’t have felt it if I wasn’t wrapped around him so tightly. Twisting so that he can see me, the porch light shedding just enough light for us to make out the features of each other’s faces, his voice is low and rumbly when he mutters, “Babe, if I don’t, I live in a house with three other fuckers. I’ll find some. You telling me what I think you’re telling me?”
His hand squeezes mine and, without thinking, my knees press into him. Then, with all the courage I have in me, I look him right in the eye as I tell him, “Make love to me, Coder.”
“Fuck,” he grunts. Leaning back, he arches his neck, bringing his lips to mine. It’s an awkward, light kiss delivered in obvious desperation, and it makes me all squishy inside. “Off the bike, babe. Now.”
“’Kay,” I murmur, doing as he says.
As soon as he’s off the bike, he grabs my hand and takes me inside. When we pass through the living room, both Mark and Jimmy are in front of the TV, playing a video game. My cheeks instantly heat in a blush, my mind alerting me to the fact that I’m about to have sex for the first time while Coder’s roommates are in the next room; yet, my heart beats wildly, announcing to my brain that I’m ready, and I want this, and I don’t care who’s home.
All three guys grunt their hellos, each of them focused on something else entirely. As soon as we cross the threshold into Coder’s room, he drops his helmet on his desk and then starts opening drawers. He stops when he finds what he’s after, chuckling as he pulls out a box and dumps the contents on top of the papers that are scattered all over his workspace.
“So—I guess you’ve got some condoms,” I say softly, my stomach clenching as I look at the pile that now lays before me.
Coder shuts the door, then takes the helmet from out of my hands and tosses it across the room before gripping the back of my neck. “Eyes up, baby,” he rumbles.
I pull my lip between my teeth, managing a shaky breath before I look up at him.
“I don’t have much restraint left. If I ask you if you’re sure and you don’t give me the right answer, I’m taking you home—and it sure as fuck won’t be on the back of my bike. Get me?”
I nod and take a step toward him, resting my hands against his chest. His nostrils flare as he takes a deep breath and squeezes the back of my neck.
“Baby, are you sure?” he says, his voice so low and strained, I know he’s forced the words out.
Gripping his jacket in my hands, I pull myself closer as I assure him, “I’m positive. I love you, Coder. I don’t want to wait anymore. I want it to be you. Just you. Only you.”
I barely get all the words out before he crashes his mouth against mine. I whimper, and he parts my lips with his tongue before kissing me deep and hard. Without severing our connection, he shrugs out of his jacket before forcing mine off of me. His hoodie goes next. When my arms are free, I reach for the hem of his shirt, my hands trembling as I start to pull it off of his body. Finally breaking our kiss, he reaches behind his head, grabs a handful of fabric, and rips the garment off, tossing it over his shoulder.
“Fuck, baby. Been hard since you told me to make love to you out on my bike,” he confesses, his fingers swiftly and accurately finding each button on my shirt and setting it free. “Never wanted anyone as much as I want you right now, babe.”
He doesn’t make it all the way to the bottom of my shirt before he gives up, pulling it inside out over my torso. I barely start to let my arms down after he’s gotten it off of me, and then his hands are at my back, unhooking my bra. I suck in a breath of excitement, his sense of urgency making my body tingle in glorious anticipation. When he leans down and captures one of my nipples in his mouth, I don’t hold back my moan as my fingers find their way into his hair. He sucks hard, and it’s like he’s trying to fit all of my small mound between his lips. It’s intense and desperate, and it feels so good. I press my legs together when he moves from one breast to the next, and I can tell that my panties are already drenched from my arousal.
Finished with my breasts for the time being, he kisses and nibbles his way up my neck and to my ear. His breathing heavy, he palms my backside, pulling me against his groin as he grumbles, “Let your hair down, baby. I want all of you.”
I shiver, desire sending a wild sensation up my spine, and then I get to work, pulling the hair tie from around my curls, frantically loosening the braid as he steps away from me and removes his boots. By the time I’ve managed to make my hair look somewhat presentable, he’s in nothing but his boxer briefs—his dick jutting straight out. Everything inside of me quivers knowing that is about to be in my body, and I can barely breathe as my anticipation grows.
I squeak in surprise when he grabs me by the hips, lifts me from my feet, and tosses me into his bed. He chuckles, flatting himself over me before planting a wet kiss against my lips. He doesn’t linger long before he sets about removing the rest of my clothes. My shoes and socks go first, then my pants. He cups his hand around my sex, groaning when he discovers my wet panties, and then those are gone in a flash. I don’t have time to register the fact that he’s seeing me completely naked for the first time. Before even I can process it, his mouth is between my legs, his tongue lapping at my entrance, tasting my desire. With a grunt, he hooks his hands under my knees and then spreads my legs wide as he devours me like a man depraved.
My eyes roll into the back of my head, the pleasure of his touch more than I can ever remember. I fist my hands in his rumpled sheets, a delicate cry sounding from my throat as he licks his way up to my clit. He lets go of one of my legs and I plant my foot on the bed just as he slides a finger inside of me. I roll my hips up, using my foot as leverage, and he slowly pulls himself free. My eyes open, and I look down at him when I feel the tips of two fingers start to push into my center. He sucks on my clit as he fills me up, and I can feel my orgasm start to build deep inside of me.
When he pumps faster, curling his fingertips, creating even more friction, I moan, thrusting my hips up again. Letting go of my other leg, he presses a palm down on my lower abdomen, keeping me still. The pressure of his hand in conjunction with his fingers and his tongue flicking my sensitive nub while he sucks—it’s overwhelming. It feels amazing, and I’m surprised by how much I still want more.
“Coder,” I whimper, earning me his eyes. Staring at him as he looks up at me, his mouth still locked around my sex, my skin breaks out in a fresh wave of goose pimples, and I forget what I was going to say. Then he sucks harder, and I arch my back, yanking at his sheets as my orgasm bursts from within me. “Coder!”
When the walls of my center begin to relax, Coder removes his fingers, flatting his tongue over my entrance before lazily licking his way up my seam. He does this twice before he stands to his feet and drops his briefs. I’m short of breath as I watch him reach for a condom. His eyes lock with mine when he rips it open with his teeth before he slides the rubber over his long length. He then carefully rearranges my body in his bed so that my head is resting on his pillows.
“Won’t lie to you, baby,” he murmurs, brushing his lips against mine as he settles his body between my legs.
The feel of his hot, bare skin against mine makes my stomach clench and my core pulse with need. I’m panting now, and with every rise and fall of my chest, my hardened nipples rub against him. That gives my goose pimples goose pimples.
Remembering that he was speaking, I rest my shaky hands on his shoulders as I ask, “Lie—lie—lie about what?”
“This is gonna hurt. I’ll go slow and I’ll try and be gentle—but you’re tight as fuck.”
I nod, understanding that this is inevitable. No one has ever been inside of me before. Besides, I’ve done the math. I’ve had his dick in my mouth, and the circumference of my lips around his shaft is certainly not the circumference of the opening to my lady parts.
I slide my fingers up the back of his neck and into his hair as I assure him, “I’ll be okay, honey. I trust you.”
Without another word, and without taking his eyes off of mine, he reaches down between us and coats the head of his dick in my arousal. When he lines us up and starts to ease his way in, I gasp, spreading my legs wider. The next time I moan, it’s not in pleasure, but in pain. Scrunching my face, I hold my breath, not wishing to make another sound. I don’t want him to stop—not now—and I’m afraid if I breathe, I’ll whine, so I do neither. Instead, I tug on his hair, and watch as his jaw falls open at the same time that his eyes dilate.
When his face starts to pink, I realize he’s holding his breath, too. He blows out a heavy sigh, resting his forehead against mine when he’s fully seated inside of me. Unable to go without oxygen any longer, I blow out a breath of my own before I start panting, feeling suddenly frantic. Then, before I can find the words to form a sentence, he’s kissing me. It’s a sweet, lazy, wet kiss—much like the ones we shared this morning—and I almost forget that I’m uncomfortable.
His lips break away from mine when he starts to pull out, and he buries his face in my neck as his hips begin to roll in a slow, steady rhythm. “Fuck, baby,” he groans, the sound muffled against my skin. “You feel so good. God—so amazing.”
I melt underneath him, his praise making my heart swell. Soon, the pain starts to lessen, and the friction of each gentle stroke starts to feel different—good. Really, really good. Then, when Coder’s breathing grows heavier, his exhalations hot against my neck, one of his hands grips my side before sliding up my chest and around my breast. He gives me a squeeze, his hips thrusting harder now. As I run my fingers through his hair, he lifts his head to look at me.
When our eyes lock, he grunts and then teases me with his tongue, tracing it along my lips. He doesn’t kiss me, and I can tell that he’s concentrating, trying to remain in control; but with each thrust harder than the last, I know control is slipping from his grasp.
“Goddamn,” he groans, holding my breast tighter. I lose his eyes again as he leans heavily on his opposite forearm, bringing his lips to my shoulder.
I’ve never seen him like this before, and if he wasn’t pounding into me so hard, I think I might love it—watching him lose himself completely while buried deep inside of me. However, the really, really good feeling I had a moment ago has gone, and the pain is back.
As if he can read my mind, he grunts, “Fuck, baby, I’m sorry. I’m—” His words trail off abruptly as his body starts to tremble above mine. He jerks once, then once more before his muscles lock up and he freezes inside of me. With a long groan, he fills the condom with his seed, and then he lifts his head once more.
He’s still shaking above me when his lips find mine. “I’m sorry, baby,” he mumbles between kisses. I feel it as he slowly slides out of me, but I’m distracted by the many kisses he showers all over my face. “Did I hurt you? Fuck—I didn’t mean—”
My eyes well up with tears, and my breath catches in my throat, loud enough for him to hear. He stops kissing me, looking down at me with a furrowed brow. I’ve never seen him look so worried, and I know that if I don’t say something soon, he’ll think he really has hurt me.
“Honey, I’m okay. I’m okay,” I whimper past the knot in my throat, reaching up to hold either side of his face.
“You’re not. Shit, baby—”
“Coder,” I whisper, lifting my head until my mouth touches his. “Honey, kiss me. I’m okay. You didn’t hurt me. Just kiss me.”
“Mack—”
He starts to argue, but I plunge my tongue into his mouth, silencing him as I take what I want. It takes him just as long to stop fighting me as it takes me to get control of my emotions. When I’m sure that I can speak without crying, I pull away from his kiss and circle my legs around his backside.
“That was so beautiful,” I murmur.
“I fucking hurt you,” he retorts with a scowl.
“Honey—it hurt, we both knew it would—but seeing you—watching you enjoy my body the way that you just did?” I smile at him, holding up my arm as I feel my skin break out in yet another layer of goose pimples. “Look.”
“Baby—”
My smile fads as I raise my fingers and press them against his lips. “Don’t. Don’t do that,” I demand.
He quirks an eyebrow up in amused surprise, moving my hand before he asks, “Do what?”
“Ruin it. It was amazing, Coder, because you’re amazing—because I love you so much—because I wouldn’t want to share this moment with anyone else—because—”
This time he cuts me off with a kiss. It’s gentle and sweet, and I wrap my arms around his neck as he loves on me just the way that I like. When he pulls away a moment later, his lips still grazing mine, he rumbles, “I got it, baby.”
“Good,” I reply, smiling against his mouth.
“I love you so fucking hard.” My legs and arms tighten around him as my insides go completely squishy, and my smile widens. Then he goes on to say, “I promise you one thing, babe—you haven’t seen amazing, but you will. I’ll take you there. Over and over and over again.”
“Yeah?” I giggle.
“I promise.”
“You know my deal about—”
“I’ll fight to keep it,” he grunts before pressing a hard kiss against my lips.
I hum into his mouth, then he sweeps his tongue through mine, and I know he means every word.