Total pages in book: 19
Estimated words: 17527 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 88(@200wpm)___ 70(@250wpm)___ 58(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 17527 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 88(@200wpm)___ 70(@250wpm)___ 58(@300wpm)
Bought them a size too small, thinking I’d return them someday, but never got around to it. I knew they’d come in handy at some point, and now they’re paying dividends.
“So, you’ve been talking about me?” Hush doesn’t sound angry, but it’s hard to tell when it comes to him. He’s a closed book when it comes to showing emotions. And speaking. Reserved sums him up perfectly.
“Who wouldn’t?” the bartender answers for me. “But you can rest assured that Tara’s only told me the best of things.”
Hush furrows his brow, not used to another face interrupting our one-on-one time. With a sideways bounce, I’m facing him, smiling brightly. “Hush, this is Robby. Robby, Hush. We studied together at Winchester.”
“Pleasure,” Robby says, giving Hush a two-finger salute.
“Likewise.” Hush doesn’t move at all, eyeing Robbie through long strands of messy black hair hanging over his eyes.
“Strong silent type, huh?” Robbie snickers. “Well, can I get you anything to drink?”
“No. I’m just here to get Tara home safe. Ready to hit the road?” Hush asks, fighting his natural urges to look down the top of my shirt. I don’t always dress provocatively; sometimes I choose dresses, and at others, I favor simple outerwear to stay comfortable.
Nights like these, I can’t help myself. Wanting nothing more than to tease this hulking brute to breaking point. Have him show me that beneath the stoic statue he presents the world hides a savage beast that indulges itself in earthly pleasure. Carnal pleasure.
Let it be me he ravages.
“Sure, paid up and ready to go.” With Hush struggling to focus his attention on my face, I push out my chest so he can get a better view of my cleavage sticking out of the very open V of my top. He never asks for money for these rides, doesn’t accept a thank you when offered, might as well give him some eye candy to enjoy.
Well, that’s what I tell myself. More than anything, I enjoy seeing him inspect my body. Watch his eyes as they trail my curves, hunt for secrets, and overindulge in my womanhood.
We start walking to the exit, Hush leading the charge and blocking anyone from crossing our path, and me behind, gawking in awe at him. Even from behind, his body is carved from tip to toe in muscle. There isn’t a soft spot on him, and his clothes show their struggles to contain it all, with every seam straining at his movements.
With no trouble on our departure, we make it outside to a mostly empty street. A few stragglers hang around their cars, some on their way to scoring for the night, others on the verge of collapse from hitting the booze too hard.
We pay no mind to them as we walk to Hush’s bike. It’s here, in the silence of the night, that I choose to make my move. Rushing to catch up to his side, I slot my arm around the crook of his elbow and lock in tight. Nothing big that might scare Hush off, but a gesture to show my interest.
In the beginning, I was way more subtle in my approach to catching his attention. Dropping a sly comment here and there to see what he’d do with it. However, I’ve found him to be a tougher nut to crack than I’m used to. Simple tricks won’t work on him, and I’m not sure if it’s from a lack of interest or nerves, but it’s time to get this ball rolling, one way or another.
Hush looks down at my arm as I lock it with his. I take him not pulling away as a good sign, nuzzling deeper into his side as the smile on my face stretches wider.
“Straight home or do you need to make any stops on the way?” Hush asks, locking his arm with mine, as we trudge onward.
“Straight home.” To my bedroom, with him and me doing the dirty tango to finish the night off.
We get to his bike, and Hush pulls two helmets off one side. His is shaped like some ancient piece of armor, like a Spartan soldier would’ve worn when rushing into battle. The one he hands me is closer to the classic motorcycle helmet, round all around, with a visor to protect the eyes. He gets on first, offering me a hand to help slide in behind him.
“Hold on tight,” he says, but there is no question about that. I plan on feeling his body up as best I can, the same way I do every time he gives me a ride home.
He starts the engine, and his bike roars to life, and before long, we’re riding through the streets of Boulder with the wind in our hair and not a care in the world.
God, I love this feeling. Zipping through the streets with our bodies entwined. My fingers digging into his hard abs, brushing over every groove while I cling to him for dear life.