Respectfully? You’re grabbing her hips while her ass is pressed against your cock.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “Yeah, it’s big, but just take it slow and everything will be fine. Ease into it.”
She stared at him and then burst out laughing.
He replayed what he just said. “Fuck. I didn’t mean it like that.”
“I know, which made it so much better.” She glanced back, her eyes twinkling. “You also sounded as if you’ve said that before.”
Werehischeeks heating now?
“Sorry, couldn’t resist,” she said, and then she twisted around again, which rubbed her ass into his cock, and she leaned back against him, as if in apology for making him blush, and damn, that was nice, Gemma relaxing into his arms, nestled between his legs, her hands on his thighs.
Could he stay here? Just for a few minutes. Let her get accustomed to the size of the bike.
She slapped his thighs as she sat up. “Enough goofing around. Iwill indeed take it slow, and if it’s too big—” She threw her head back again, helmet clinking his. “Damn it.”
“If it’s too big, you can just climb off,” he said.
She choked on a laugh. “That’s very understanding.”
He opened his mouth to say he was used to it, make her laugh, but then realized he could be overselling this. Not that he had any problems in that area. He was a big guy and well proportioned. But, yeah, best not to oversell it.
She slapped his thigh lightly again and leaned forward to take the handlebars, which again lifted her ass up into a very sweet position.
“Ready?” she said.
He slid his hands onto her thighs and eased forward. For safety.
“Ready,” he said.
GEMMA
They’d rounded the block twice with Mason on the back. After that, Gemma had felt confident enough for a solo ride around the arena parking lot. He asked her to lift her visor so he could get photos, and those were the ones she agreed he could send to his publicist, along with one he’d snapped of both of them, her on the front, him leaning over her shoulder to get the shot. Once Terrance posted them, Gemma shored up her nerve and reposted the one with her and Mason, addingFifteen years since I sold my bike. I’ve upgraded :) ;) :)
She knew she should add the hashtag. That was Social Media 101. But the hashtag seemed to confirm she was dating Mason Moretti and… yeah, she couldn’t do that. But she came up withher own. #ChauffeuringTheMace. Which made him laugh. Before she hit Post, she considered adding something about it being a Ducati motorcycle, to be clear that’s what she meant by the upgrade comment… and then she decided not to. If they thought she meant Mason, let them.
Fake dating media obligations fulfilled, Mason proposed a ride up the coast, and Gemma agreed. Soon she was holding tight to his back, and all she could think wasI needed this. She’d needed it so damn bad that she was happy for the helmet, shielding her face as they whipped along the coastal roads. Happy that the helmet was pressed to his back as he drove, so he couldn’t see her eyes brimming with tears.
They were tears of joy but also tears of grief and anger for how far she’d let her life tumble. Wasn’t divorce supposed to have set her free? Shouldn’t she have already bought a motorcycle? Already spent countless hours zipping along the coast, stopping to walk, finding a little cove, pulling out her laptop and working by the sea? She was free of Alan, but she hadn’t flown from that cage. The door was open, her captor gone, but the world beyond still seemed…
Scary?
That sounded childish. What she feared, though, was stepping out that door and discovering it changed nothing. That she was free but still grounded, forgetting how to fly.
She needed more ofthisin her life. Spontaneity. Joy. Time spent accomplishing nothing more than making herself happy.
The motorcycle lesson had been a blast. Goofing around, a little flirty, but the safe kind of flirty she needed so badly.
Just like she needed this, being pressed up against Mason, feeling the heat of him, the muscles of his thighs moving under her hands.It took serious willpower not to slide her hands along those thighs. The sensation of a very attractive man pressed against her, when she had not so much as kissed a man since… well, she couldn’t remember the last time Alan had kissed her before he walked out.
She missed physical intimacy. Oh, she missed sex, too, but she’d lacked intimacy for so much longer.
This was safe, intimate contact with a very attractive guy, and Gemma was going to enjoy every minute of it. If she had the feeling she might enjoy reliving this ride in her dreams, possibly with a few less platonic amendments, well, she couldn’t control what she dreamed, right? In reality, Mason had to stay firmly on his side of that line, and he seemed okay with that, which was…
Good, she told herself firmly. It was good.
Speaking of good, the scenery was freaking amazing—endless beaches and distant islands and then zooming up along cliff edges, the ocean below wild and raw, surf crashing.
