“Fuck right you are.”
The bike comes to life, roaring out its battle cry as I twist the throttle and kick us into gear. We take off down the street, and she grabs ahold of my waist, her front leaning lightly on my back, her head near mine, her fingers flexing on my stomach, and it’s the best feeling on earth, well, except when I’m buried balls deep in her.
Wouldn’t it be funny if you dumped the bike right now. All that pretty skin of hers would be gone.
“Seriously, shut the fuck up.” I growl athimand the fact he’s already back and as annoying as ever.
The blood and flesh stuck to the pavement, ahhh, it would be so beautiful. Don’t you think?
I know she can feel the argument inside me, and her arms tighten around me hard enough that I can feel the thundering of her heart against my back. I shift up, and we go faster, weaving through the traffic, and I ride as fast as I can, trying to escape the voice inside of me that’s telling me to do things I never would have thought of myself. But then again, if he is me, then aren’t they really my thoughts?
“A self-aware schizophrenic, how novel.” I laugh to myself, thinking of how fucked up I really am. “For fuck’s sake.”
We go faster, heading north, darting down alleyways and side streets to avoid the majority of the standing traffic, and she holds on, her hands touching me, almost soothing me as we ride. I can feel her wiping him away with her touch, and by the time we get to the station, he's quiet again, and all I can hear is the panting of her excited breath mixed with the sound of the exhaust of my number one girl.
The garage doors are open, like they always are during the daylight hours, and I roll us inside slowly, making sure not to bump up too hard on the little strip of concrete that separates the driveway and the interior floor. I don’t need my balls knocked into my guts, nor her helmeted head to crack into the back of mine. I’m already itching and burning under my clothes from the fresh brand on my chest that is a constant reminder of her own pyromania from last night.
See, she’s as fucked as you. She’d probably like to lose some flesh on the ground. You should have done it.
“And you’re back again.” I mumble, rolling my eyes as I park the bike next to the far-side wall, where I usually keep her so she’s out of the way.
The station house is busy, and my brothers are toiling around, washing trucks, fixing things, and bantering like a bunch of rowdy boys.
“Hey look what the cat dragged in.” Marcus says, rolling up a hose in his hands and hanging it on the side of the ladder truck. “And holy shit, he’s got company with him.”
I feel her tense up against my back, holding onto me tightly, not allowing me to step off the bike.
“It’s okay. They’re just pigs. But you’re good.” I reassure her, peeling her hands off of me, wincing when she grabs my chest instead of my waist, trying to keep me in front of her.
“She’s a pretty thing too. Way too cute for your weird ass.” He laughs, standing there, staring like a creep as I pull her off me and dismount the bike, bringing her with me and tucking her behind me protectively, even though I know my brothers wouldn’t really do anything to her. But still, she’s mine, and they need to know that.
“My pretty thing.” I growl as I take the helmet off her, and fluff her inky black hair into place, kissing her as I do, showing the guys that she really is mine.
“Mmmm, I like possessive you.” She murmurs against my lips, and I can feel her smile.
“I’m very possessive, baby.” I say, hanging the helmet on the bike and taking her hands in mine. “Come on, I’ll show you around.”
She stays by my side, her hand in mine as I walk her through the garage, showing her all the trucks, explaining what each one is for. Her fingers drag down the side of the tanker, feeling the smoothness of it, just like how I caress semis on the highway.
We go through the downstairs, and I show her the lounge and the office, which are empty for once. Then we head upstairs and into the bunk rooms.
“This is mine.” I say, lifting the curtain back and showing her my small sleeping space.
“This is how you live?” She asks, peering into the cubby and seeing my mattress and the tiny dresser that holds my limited amount of clothes.
“Yeah. I don’t need much. It’s a comfortable bed.” I chuckle, flopping down on it and pulling her with me.
She yelps as I wrap my arms and legs around her, holding her tightly to me on the twin size mattress. Her hands come to my chest, and I wince, the pain shooting up and across my shoulders and down both my arms.
“Oh, are you okay?” She asks, seeing my obvious discomfort.
“Absolutely.” It’s a lie, but I’m not telling her how much the fresh brand burns like a motherfucker. I want her happy with it, not regretting it, because I sure as shit don’t regret it.
She settles on top of me, her legs tangling with mine, her black eyes peering down at me with adoration, melting me even more for her.
“I meant it.”
“I know.” I sigh, knowing exactly what she’s talking about, but unable to say the words back. I don’t even know how to.
