Risky and Wild(75)

After a while, she pulls away from me, turning around and leaning over, so I've got the most perfect view known to man. One hand sweeps some of that short, dark hair behind her ear and the other braces against the leather seat of my red and white Swinger. If the thought didn't make me crazy with jealousy, I'd say she belonged in a magazine or on a calendar or some shit.

“God, you're beautiful,” I say as I move forward and slide my hands up the sides of her body, slipping two fingers under the thong and drawing it down until it's hanging off one of those high heeled boots of hers. Lyric ignores my words, dropping her other hand onto the seat and lifting her pelvis towards me.

That's all the invitation I need.

I step forward, hooking my hands around the natural curve of her hips. I have to grip tight, lift Lyric up a little and widen my stance to compensate for the extreme differences in our heights. Somehow that makes this even sexier, watching her heels come up, her toes just barely touching the floor. My arm muscles bunch, tattoos standing at sharp attention as I hold Lyric half-suspended over the bike.

Fuck yes.

I grin and press my aching cock to Lyric's opening. It's slippery and hot and ready for me, but still, I take it slow. I need to savor this, commit it to memory. A gentle push and I'm inside of her, drawing a gasp from Lyric's throat as her spine curves with pleasure. I follow the guidance of her hips, pressing forward only when she presses back. Soon, we're pelvis to pelvis and I'm enveloped in her heat. Her muscles tighten and relax around me as I start to move, drawing my body forward like I've been hypnotized.

My hips rock against her ass, my balls slapping Lyric's soft flesh as I start to move with a focused rhythm, taking my body to the edge of pleasure and then pausing to breathe before I start up again. The cold, oil soaked garage fills with the sounds of our voices, mine a rasping growl and hers a breathy whisper. Lyric starts to move faster, pressing back into me and then rocking forward; I match the pace.

When it feels like I can't take anymore, I slide back and turn Lyric around. Her pupils are dilated, lips gently parted, face flushed with desire. I keep my eyes locked on hers as I kick one leg over the bike and straddle the seat, drawing her to me with a hand on one hip. Lifting Lyric up, I sit her in my lap, her legs on either side of my hips.

As soon as our bodies are joined, she takes over completely, letting me unhook the front of her corset and toss it to the floor so I can lay my hand on her belly. Our kisses are long and wet and sharp, teeth catching at lips, tongues sliding along the edges of jaws. I tangle my ringed hand in Lyric's hair as she gyrates her body against mine, her noises climbing into a keening sound that turns my insides into knots. I feel her tightening up before she comes, letting her head fall back into my hand as she groans and bares her throat to me.

It's the aftershocks of her orgasm that get me, the ridged muscles of her body drawing the pleasure up and out of me with a groan that echoes around the garage like a sigh of relief.

“Come on,” she tells me, standing up before I can stop her and reaching down for my cut. When she shrugs it over her own shoulders, I get the fucking chills.

I button up my jeans and follow her bare ass inside to the scent of burning garlic, pausing for just a brief second to turn the oven off. When I turn the corner into the living room, I find Lyric laying down on that stupid fucking bearskin rug that I'm suddenly very much in love with.

“Come here,” she says as I move over to her and kneel down, leaning over her body to kiss and suckle at the hardened points of her nipples beneath the black lace bra. “Royal,” she starts, but I don't stop, kissing down that belly, across the dark patch of hair on her pussy. It's groomed, but not shaped and shaved and manicured to high hell like some of those groupies. So much better. “Are you even listening?” she asks, but I keep going because I'm not sure I can take another bollocking tonight. Had about enough of that already. Or maybe I'm just nervous about what she has to say. If I am, I refuse to admit it. “Do you know what I got my degree in?”

Not what I expected.

I pause with my mouth inches from the wet heat of her body.

“Never gave it much thought, love,” I admit as I slide my fingers down those smooth pale thighs. “What's that got to do with this.”

“I got a law degree,” she says and then pauses, her breath coming in sharp quick bursts. But not from me, I don't think, from whatever's going through that head of hers. And it's a bloody gorgeous head at that. I sit up a little, stare down at her wearing my cut like she owns the damn thing. Hell, maybe she does? She sure as shit seems to own my heart.

Fuuuuuck! I purse my lips and run my fingers through my hair.