The lights of the city blurred into a stream of brilliant color as the bike roared down the nearly-empty streets, the sound echoing off the high-rises that hugged the concrete.
My arms cinched tight around his waist, more to hold onto him than out of fear; the speed seemed effortless, even as the wind whipped my hair in every direction. As we took a sharp turn, my eyes squeezed shut, face burying into the soft leather of his jacket. God, I was glad he'd given it to me — the leather smelled like him.
I didn't know where he was taking me, and I didn't care.
"You okay back there?"
I didn't have to see his face to know he was smirked, but I nodded anyway, pressing my cheek against the broad muscle of his back. He chuckled, the sound vibrating through us both, the wind stealing it away. "Just don't pass out yet," he called over the din of the engine, "The fun's just beginning."
I bit back a smile, tightening my grip as he took another sharp corner, the speed nearly stealing my breath.
He weaved through the streets like he owned the city, like a predator weaving through its domain, and I was his willing prey. My heart thumped in my chest, fear and excitement mixing in a heady cocktail of adrenaline.
"Close your eyes," he shouted over the roar of the engine.
I obeyed without question, shutting my eyes and tightening my grip on him. The world narrowed to the feeling of his body beneath me, the wind in my hair, and the sounds of the night.
He took another turn, and I could feel the bike lean dangerously close to the ground. He leaned into the turn, and I felt the bike tilt with him, a controlled surrender that sent a thrill through me.
My arms tightened on their own accord until I was clinging to him like a lifeline, and his hand came down to cover mine. "That's it." His voice was steady, even as his body tensed—anticipating the next move. "Hold on to me."
I nodded against his back, my eyes still squeezed shut, my mind caught in the thrill of not knowing where we were going. I could feel him smile—not hear it, but feel it—and he increased the speed.
My body jolted against him as he accelerated, adrenaline surging through my veins. A part of me knew it was reckless going this fast on a motorcycle through city streets, but everything else was drowning in the rush. I'd be lying if I pretended I didn't like it.
His hand slid from mine, trailing down my arm until it rested on my thigh, a heavy weight, anchoring me. "Are you scared?" he shouted.
"No!" I shouted back, a laugh bubbling up from my throat. "Exhilarated!"
His fingers pressed in slightly—firm, grounding—and he leaned back just enough for me to feel the smirk in his voice. "Good."
The engine roared as he took another turn, sharper this time, and my head spun. But then—abruptly—the bike slowed.
We stopped.
The sudden silence was disorienting. The city's hum returned—the distant sirens, the rustle of wind through alleys—but here, it felt like a pocket of stillness had opened up just for us.
"Open your eyes," he said softly.
I did.
We were on an old overlook perched high above the skyline. The entire city sprawled beneath us like a sea of stars frozen in glass. Lights flickered from skyscrapers to streetlamps below; quiet beauty stretched as far as I could see. It was breathtaking—unreal even after all these years of living here and never once taking this drive.
He turned his head slightly toward me. "Not many people come up here."
I swallowed hard—my throat tight not from wind or fear—but something deeper.
"...Why'd you bring me here?"
He killed the engine and removed his helmet slowly before turning fully to face me, eyes dark but warm under moonlight streaked with amber glow.
"Because you didn't want tender," he said quietly—"but you needed it anyway."
And then—he kissed me.
His lips on mine were rough, hungry, and desperate.
One hand wrapped tight in my hair, the other gripping my thighs, fingers digging into my skin through my pants. I gasped, and his tongue took advantage—sliding into my mouth, claiming me without words. One minute I was holding onto him for balance, the next I was pinned against the bike, his hips grinding against mine.
His body pinned me. The cool metal of the motorcycle frame dug into my back, cold and unforgiving. A rush of heat pooled low in my belly — sharp, undeniable.
His tongue swept against mine. Demanding. Relentless. Like he was punishing me for wanting him. For being this reckless.
I gasped, the sound lost in the night, my mind spinning with the thrill.
It was too much, yet somehow not enough.
I couldn't think, couldn't breathe—only feel. His mouth moved from mine to my neck, biting down just hard enough to make me whimper. The sound seemed to spur him on, his hands growing bolder, rougher.
"You taste like trouble," he growled against my skin.
I arched into him, heart pounding. "Then take me somewhere even more dangerous."
He pulled back slightly, eyes dark with hunger and something else—something almost tender—and smirked. "You're already there."
He leaned in. His hand skimmed down my side, slow and deliberate, until it reached my thigh.
The pad of his gloved fingers slipped beneath my shirt — textured, firm, unapologetic.
A shiver raced through me. I knew he felt it.
His breath hit my neck, ragged and hot, syncing with the pulse pounding beneath my skin.
"I'm gonna ruin you, sweetheart," he murmured, low and rough, the words sending another shiver down my spine.
I hooked my leg around his hip, pulling him closer, savoring the sharp intake of breath against my skin. "Promises, promises."
He moved like lightning—hands locking around my wrists, pinning them against the cool metal of the bike with one strong grip. His gaze was scorching, all pretense of patience gone.
"Careful," he warned, voice thick with restraint. "You keep tempting me like this... and I won't be gentle."
I tilted my chin up, defiant even as my pulse betrayed me. "Who said I want gentle?"
His knee nudged between my legs, pressing just enough to make me gasp.
"You think you can handle it?" he purred, the timbre of his voice like a warning.
My breath caught, my body betraying my bravado in the way it was already responding, the way my hips rocked against his knee. I tried for a cocky grin. "Try me."
The challenge in my tone was met with a deep, rough laugh—almost feral. He leaned down, his lips ghosting along the edge of my jaw, down my neck, until he was speaking near my ear.
"Oh, I'm going to enjoy breaking you," he growled, nipping at my earlobe in emphasis.
A whimper escaped me, even as I bucked against him, my body pleading for more.
He released one of my wrists just long enough to slide his gloved hand beneath my shirt. The rough leather dragged across my bare skin — textured, unrelenting.
I gasped as he palmed my breast, the pressure firm, almost punishing. Just shy of pain.
"Still want to play tough?" he murmured.
My breath hitched, a sound lost to the wind and the low, possessive growl that rumbled in his chest. The rough pad of his glove thumb swept over my nipple, and a jolt of pure, undiluted need shot through me, straight to my core.
I bit my lip hard, refusing to give him the satisfaction of hearing me break.
With a low chuckle that vibrated through me like thunder before a storm—he let go completely and stepped back.