Sandy

In hindsight, I realized I should have never agreed to it. I was really enjoying our night out – it was riding on the motorcycle that I should have refused to do.

Smoke agreed to go on a date with Cholo and Lex. The men, of course, insisted that we ride on the motorcycles. I didn’t object, but I later realized I should have. With his club brother riding at his side, he was comfortable, and he was different.

He was fun, funny, had a more machismo demeanor, and seeing the differences made him far more attractive. I wanted to despise him for being the way he was about relationships, but I couldn’t.

Oddly, I respected him.

After riding to Chula Vista for tacos, we raced through the sparse traffic on the freeway. The sound of the exhaust, the speed, the laughter, and the friendly goofing around proved to be too much. With each passing mile, I was slowly melting into a puddle of lust.

We exited the highway, and rolled to a stop at the traffic light.

“We’re headed home, brother,” Cholo shouted over the sound of his exhaust. “Lex is exhausted.”

“Right on,” Smoke said. “Your turn is one block up, right?”

Cholo checked the light and gave a nod.

Smoke revved his exhaust. “On green.”

Cholo shook his head. “Damn it, Smoke.”

Lex looked at me and grinned. “They do this all the time.”

“No guts, no glory, motherfucker,” Smoke taunted.

Cholo checked the light and then glanced at Smoke. “On green, asshole.”

Lex clutched Cholo’s waist like her life depended on it.

“Hold on,” Smoke said over his shoulder. “Tight.”

I wrapped my arms around his waist and sank my thumbs between the inside of his jeans and his hips. “Okay.”

I watched as the cross-traffic light turned to yellow, and held my breath. The sound of the exhaust bellowed behind us in a deafening tone. When the light flashed from red to green, Smoke released the clutch.

We launched forward like we’d been rear-ended by a truck.

The back tire screeched, the front tire raised up, and we shot ahead of Cholo’s bike by a few feet. Smoke leaned forward, pressing his chest onto the gas tank, and I followed, flattening my boobs against his back.

The exhilaration was something I hadn’t ever felt.

He shifted gears, and Cholo caught up to us. After shifting again, Cholo passed us by a few feet. I took a quick look over Smoke’s shoulder, and noticed we were going over 100 miles an hour.

My heart shot to my throat.

I glanced up. The light ahead turned to red. Both motorcycles, as if pre-programmed, decelerated, braked, and eventually came to a stop.

Smoke cocked his head to the side. “Lucky prick.”

“Fuck you, Smoke.” Cholo said. “My shit’s faster. I outweigh you by thirty at least, and we’re riding two up. That old sled is junk.”

Smoke glared at him. “Two up?”

Cholo grinned. “Yeah. Me, Lex, and the baby.”

The light changed to green.

“See ya, fat ass,” Smoke shouted.

Lex waved, and they turned to the left. Without speaking, Smoke and I rode for a few miles through town. I enjoyed the relaxing ride just as much as the racing, but in a different way. For me, the motorcycle provided three things.

It was a mode of transportation, something very exciting, and it could also be very relaxing.

During our ride, I got lost in the smell of the ocean breeze, the low drone of the exhaust, and the feeling of having my arms wrapped around his waist. And then, he pulled into my driveway.

My heart sank.

I’d told myself this would be the last time we’d see each other, and after having such a wonderful night, I knew I’d have to honor my personal promise.

The thought of never seeing him again sickened me, but it was necessary.

He switched off the engine.

I removed my helmet, clutched it in my hands, and then took a slow deliberate breath.

One last time, that’s it.

He stepped off the bike and reached for my hand. “Sorry about that race, but I just had to.”

With the help of his guiding hand, I carefully got off the motorcycle. “Oh, that’s okay. It was exciting.”

He smiled, revealing dimples that I didn’t know existed. “Glad you enjoyed it.”

He took the helmet, put it in the compartment, and looked at me. His mouth twisted to one side, and he wagged his finger at me. “You remind me of that chick that sings country and dances on T.V.”

I wondered who he was talking about, but his explanation didn’t narrow my mental search to much less than 10,000 women.

“Oh yeah, her,” I said sarcastically.

“Burlesque.” He snapped his fingers, and then pointed at me. “She was in that, too. Won Dancing With the Stars a couple times.”

I thought about it, and when it came to me, my eyes went wide. I swallowed hard, and stared at him in disbelief. “Julianne Hough?”

“Yeah,” he said excitedly. “You look just like her. It’s been buggin’ me. Glad I figured it out.”

I didn’t want street races, fish tacos, and panty-melting compliments. I wanted him to be an asshole. I wanted him to fuck me one last time and leave angry after I said something sarcastic, pointed, and shitty.

I wanted him to not answer the late night drunken texts that I was sure would follow. I wanted him to eventually get so aggravated with me that he blocked my phone number. I wanted to tell him to get on his motorcycle and ride away. I wanted him to be angry and disappointed with me.

At least if he was it would make everything easier.

Instead, I reached for his hand. “Let’s go in.”

As soon as I extended my arm, I realized what I’d done. I expected him to pull away. In fact, I wanted him to. Filled completely with his compliment, I became lost in that moment. I’d simply forgotten who he was.

The unavailable single hot dad who just so happened to be a sexy biker.

His handsome looks made it easy to forget. In looking at his face, it was almost impossible to see him as anything other than gorgeous.

But, he didn’t pull away.

He simply stepped beside me and followed me up the walk.

And, with each step we took, I lost a little more of my desire to push him away.

* * *

If it was going to be the last time, I decided it was going to be my way, or no way at all. He had no idea it was our final night together, and I had no idea of telling him. At least not yet.

I’d walked into the kitchen to get a bottle of water while he draped his kutte over the back of the couch. When I turned around, he was standing between me and the living room, wearing only his jeans and a wife beater.

The jeans were tight enough that they revealed a slight bulge in his crotch. Naturally, my eyes fell to it. The outline of his cock garnered my complete attention. After a moment of admiring his thickness, I took in each muscular inch of his long torso.

Upon reaching his eyes, I stopped.

I swallowed heavily, blindly reached for the counter, and parted my dry lips. “Come here.”

With meaningful steps, he sauntered toward me. In those six strides, his swagger seduced me. Denying his bravado was impossible. When he walked, it was a firm reminder of the sexual beast that dwelled in his being.

“I want your cock.” I said, the words barely escaping my lips audibly.

Without responding, he reached for his belt. With my eyes fixed on his tattooed hand, I watched as he lowered his jeans past his hips. As his thick shaft sprung free, my throat went tight.

I dropped the water bottle.

His jeans and the bottle hit the floor at the same time.

With my eyes glued to his twitching cock, I fumbled to rid myself of my shorts and panties. Like a high school teen in her first sexual encounter, I struggled with the denim fabric for an inordinate amount of time.

“Here,” he said.

I watched intently as he pulled my shorts down my thighs, taking my panties with them in the process. With care, he lifted each of my feet, pulled the shorts free, and then cast them aside.

“Thanks,” I said, but the words were silent.

He didn’t bother standing.

Kneeling at my feet, he stared at my pussy for a few seconds, and then looked up.

I swallowed hard.

His mouth twisted into a smirk.

He buried his face between my legs, took my wet mound into his mouth, and then flicked his tongue against my clit. Again, and again, the tip of his tongue tickled my swollen nub.

A tingling ran through me and my legs went weak. I reached for the counter, found it, and then sucked in a breath. With my head tilted back and my eyes pinched closed, I stood on shaking legs and tried to focus on what he was doing to me.

When he touched me, the feelings he created were new. Convinced he was a master at the art of sex, and that I was his student, I eagerly allowed him to continue, excited to experience whatever it was he was introducing me to.

The licking stopped. My eyes opened, and I looked down.

He glanced up. “Your pussy tastes like honey.”

I couldn’t speak. I simply bit into my bottom lip and nodded.

And, once again, he buried his face between my thighs.

I gulped a breath as he pushed a finger deep inside me. He added another, and I twisted my hips back and forth in response.

While his fingers fucked me slowly and predictably, he began to suck my clit.

Don’t stop.

Please, God.

Don’t. Let. Him. Stop.

With my clit pinched between his soft lips, he began to moan. A buzzing ran through me from his mouth to nipples. Pressure built within me. I arched my back, opened my mouth, and cried out, but it escaped me as a silent gasp.

My eyes shot open and then fell to the floor.

In my kitchen, I had the baddest of badass bikers on his knees – sucking my pussy like a boss. For that instant, my life was a dream.

I gripped his head firmly in my hands and commenced to fuck his mouth, hoping he wouldn’t object.

His moaning continued, growing more prominent with each thrust of my hips.

My knees buckled.

I struggled to remain standing, forcing my pussy hard against his mouth in the process. In return, his fingers pushed deeper.

My muscles tensed, and then relaxed. Every ounce of emotion that had slowly built within me exploded.

His fingers continued, in and out of my wetness. His tongue teased my clit. His free hand gripped my ass, pulling me into him firmly.

The orgasms continued, one after the other, until my legs collapsed.

He caught me before I hit the floor, and lifted me into his arms. While he carried me into the bedroom, I studied his face.

I wished, with each step that he took, that things could be different between us.

But, they couldn’t, and I knew it.

Knowing it saddened me.

As he laid me on the bed, I decided to live in that moment, and that moment only, realizing it would be our last night together. It had to be. I couldn’t continue without falling in love with him, that I was sure of.

He tossed his shirt aside while I recovered from my trip to sexual outer space, and then he rolled to the side and looked at me. He’d already seduced me with his walk, and now he was doing so with his eyes.

“I want to ride your cock,” I whispered.

His mouth curled into a guilty smile, and he gripped his cock in his fist. “Come get it.”

My pussy was dripping wet. I straddled him, and then watched as he guided the tip of his swollen cock between my legs. As it disappeared into my wetness, one thick inch at a time, my breath escaped me and my eyes went closed.

Once he was inside me fully, I opened my eyes and gazed into his.

He was perfect.

But he was unavailable and incapable of becoming attached.

This is it.

One last time.

I wrapped my hands firmly around his calves, arched my back, and then rode his stiff cock like I was trying out for the sexual Olympics.

When it was over, and he was long gone, I wanted him to realize just what he was missing. I hoped to convince him that I was different, and the only way I knew to do so was by fucking him like he’d never been fucked before.

I wanted him to want me no differently than I wanted him.

I released his legs, and dug my fingers into his thick chest. His eyes went wide as I sank my fingernails into his flesh, bucking my hips wildly the entire time, milking his thick cock with each complete stroke.

“Fuck, you feel good,” he moaned.

“You like my tight pussy?”

He squeezed my tits firmly in his hands. “Fuck yes.”

“I. Love. Your. Fucking. Cock.” I said, barking out one word with each thrust of my hips.

He gazed directly into my eyes, and then grinned. “I. Can. Fucking. Tell.”

I allowed myself to become immersed in his eyes, which for some reason seemed to have turned from blue to grey. With his gaze fixed on mine, I writhed and bucked my hips, hoping to find that perfect position.

The one that would send me to the moon.

I rolled my shoulders, arched my back, and ground against the length of his thick shaft.

Oh fuck.

The tip of his dick rubbed against my g-spot. I closed my eyes and exhaled heavily. While I got lost in the feeling of his cock against the most sensual spot I possessed, his hands kneaded my boobs with perfection.

Firm enough that I knew who was in control, but not so harsh that it was uncomfortable, he squeezed my tits masterfully. Every few seconds, he’d pinch my nipples between his thumb and forefinger, and when he did, a tingling sensation ran from my boobs to the tip of his perfect cock.

I lifted my hands, arched my back further, and reached for his ankles.

Oh my fucking fuck.

Fuck yes.

Don’t. Fucking. Move.

My eyes rolled back so far it hurt. My lips parted slightly. “Don’t. Change. Anything. Don’t move.”

With my legs spread so wide I ached, I forced my ass against his thighs. The smooth skin of the head of his cock continued to torture me, grinding against my g-spot. I moved my hips ever so slightly, sending an electric shock through me with each movement.

I bit against my lip and closed my eyes.

I felt myself reaching climax.

Like a volcano preparing to erupt, the pressure built within me until it could build no more. And then, at that instant when the act of fucking goes from physical to spiritual, his cock swelled.

My pussy contracted, clenching it like a vise.

His breathing became labored.

“I’m going to…”

“So am I,” he breathed.

Together, magically, we reached the brink.

I felt as if I burst into a million sensual pieces, showering the room with emotion. I wanted to cry, scream, dig my nails into his flesh, and die, all at the same time.

Instead, I opened my mouth and said nothing.

Because I wasn’t able.

I was frozen in time. It only lasted a nanosecond, but I was frozen nevertheless.

Almost as if I was hovering over him, looking down upon his climactic finish, I watched as he erupted inside of me.

His jaw stretched wide, and he let out a growl with the intensity of a powerful beast. His eyes met mine, and he smiled a shallow and slightly guilty grin.

As countless micro-orgasms shot through me, I collapsed onto his chest, incapable of holding myself up for one more second. I remained motionless for some time, and then raised my head from his shoulder and looked him in the eyes.

I knew he enjoyed it just as much as I did, but he’d never admit it, and that saddened me. I wanted to hold him, hug him, and tell him how good it felt to fuck him, but I didn’t dare.

I wasn’t some sappy weirdo who was falling in love after fucking him twice. In fact, I was far from it. But I liked him. I liked looking at him. I liked fucking him. And, I loved how his cock made me feel. I wanted to get to know him, and in doing so, allow him to get to know me.

I wanted to do all the things he wanted me to do, each one without instruction. I wanted to know his deepest of desires, and hoped I could satisfy each one of them.

Yet.

The way it felt knowing all we would ever have was sex crushed those wants and desires into dust.

For whatever reason, admitting I was nothing but a hole for him to fill hurt me. And, I’d been hurt too many times in the past to allow it to happen again.

I rolled to the side, stood, and turned toward the bathroom. Facing away from him, I cleared my throat. “Do you…uhhm. Do you mind…would you just let yourself out?”

God.

This hurts.

“Wow. Really?”

I didn’t bother turning around. I couldn’t allow him to see my face. Hiding my feelings at that moment would have been impossible, and if he knew how I truly felt, any rejection that followed would surely crush me.

“I’m going to shower,” I said. “I’ll take my time. I’d appreciate it if you’d be gone when I came out.”

He cleared his throat. “Alright.”

While I showered, I came close to crying several times. It seemed ridiculous for me to feel the way I felt, but Smokey was different.

I could sense it.

I could feel it.

And, I could see it.

But. His unique situation wouldn’t allow him to accept anyone in his life that caused him to feel.

I dried off, got dressed, and walked into the kitchen. Although the home was void of his presence, his scent still lingered in the air. I closed my eyes, inhaled a shallow breath, and shuddered at the smell of him.

I opened my eyes.

A folded piece of paper laying on the countertop caught my eye. I walked toward it. On the outside of the note, my name was written.

I eagerly unfolded it.

The script was handwritten, and elegant.

Sandy,

You satisfied me more in two days than you’ll ever know. If you’re thinking this comment is about sex, you’re wrong.

It’s about your fun-loving attitude, your great personality, and the way you put up with my shit.

For a minute, you tricked me into thinking I was normal.

But, I’m not.

Probably be best if we called it quits.

I’m enjoying this too much.

Smokey

I read the note, and then re-read it.

With reluctance, I folded the note, walked to the trash can, and dropped it inside.