I’m Riding with You

Savannah

Damon and I talked the rest of the night up until the sun rose to interrupt our perfect getaway.

Like two little kids at a sleepover.

We went through the basics at first. Learning each other’s favorite colors and animals. TV shows, music, food, season.

Damon’s being black, wolves, Parks and Rec, old school rock and roll, cheeseburgers, and winter.

He talked about the club and how they are considered wolves, their wives are called Lunas and the women that are there for just sex are called lambs.

We spoke about school, Halloween costumes, favorite gummy bear color, theme parks versus water parks.

If we ever saw a shooting star or the coolest thing we ever found out in the world.

We spoke about what movie scared us as kids and our biggest fears.

We dabbled into everything.

Eating our body weight in his jerky supply and chips.

I called him a snack whore and we laughed throughout the entire night.

I have never felt so at peace.

Naked, on the grass, in the countryside.

I felt happier than I have ever been.

Before the crash and after.

When the sun came up, we still didn’t want to leave but knew we needed to. I sulked like a bratty kid being forced from the ball pit, which Damon threatened to spank me for if I didn’t start acting right.

I called his bluff and took off running.

My biker prince caught me, tossed me over his shoulder and slapped my ass.

I punched his back and fought but it did nothing to stop my brute from lugging me to the bike.

“Have you thought about what we intend to do for clothes?”

Damon’s tense expression almost made me laugh again. He forgot that we were naked and we couldn’t exactly ride back into town in nothing but our birthday suits.

“Should we fashion some Adam and Eve type ensembles?”

Damon looked around like he was actually thinking about it.

“Shit! Okay. I…I know where we can go.”

He rubs his neck and looks at me with almost a sad smile.

“Hey? We can do this another time. This isn’t the end.” His black puff of curls had a wild fro-like effect, hanging off the side of eyebrows and ears in a heap of inky mess.

His eyes relaxed, scanning me in from head to toe and back up again.

The way daybreak painted the sky in these burning colors of pink, orange, and blue made Damon look more like a fallen angel than I had ever seen in my life.

~This man. Dear Lord.~

He would be the death of me and I knew from the beginning.

I still drank from the forbidden cup and said fuck you to fate’s cruel design.

~Do I regret it? No.~

~Was this a bad decision? Yes.~

Sinking the helmet down my knotted mess of disheveled waves and climbing on the back of Damon’s bike yet again, I anchor myself to this masterpiece of a human being and engross myself in the feeling of taking flight.

My vagina and boobs pressed against Damon’s back to block the wind that seemed to pick up a chill, I let my roped-around arms fall a little low and just so happen to find his lower appendage.

“Savannah,” he growled.

But the twitch of his cock in my hands said it was not a stay away growl.

~This is going to be fun.~

“Angel, I thought motorcycles didn’t have gear shifters like this?”

I felt him grow harder, longer. Our speed decreasing and his body molding just so slightly to mine.

The palm of my hand to his growing length. I have got to admit the feeling of Damon’s dick in my hands is like one of the best feelings.

I never thought giving a hand job would benefit me at all. But here I am, loving the velvet steel he has.

This wicked vixen that I am gives slow motion strokes that make Damon shudder and groan. I know he wants me to go fast. And I really should. It’s not like I would be okay if Damon were to tease me but…

I really like this.

The sense of control. Not just over his orgasm but this sense of control over myself and what I’m doing.

Months ago when my family died, every drop of control was gone.

Now, here I sit, on the back of Damon’s bike, on the open road, buck naked with his raging boner in my hand.

I have come a long way.

~Thanks to him.~

I pump him up faster, giving the tiniest bit of a grind to his back so he can feel my chest rubbing across him.

Nothing but the open road. I pick up my pace and bite along his bare skin. Alternating from a nip here and there to a nibble and a suck on the tender skin, then a kiss that was instantly frozen by the rush of the wind around us.

Coming to a stop sign just in time, Damon sticks his feet out as a kickstand and let’s his head fall back. His weight held up by me and his handlebars.

“I love having you in my hands, Angel. The feeling of your cock, I love it so much,” I whisper in his ear, letting him be taken care of by my gracious self.

“Van. Baby, you’re going to make me cum.”

His voice light, a whisper of a wanton release lifting it to an adoring level.

“Are you asking for my permission, Angel?”

I take another sharp bite from the middle of his back and cup his sack in my other hand.

“No. I’m not.” His body tensed up. His muscular torso flexing in a blatant attempt to fight his own orgasm.

A giggle and I work him harder.

He starts to sweat, fighting like hell to not come like he would ever really think I wouldn’t let him. My naughty biker prince is really a headache.

Feeling my arm start to get tired, I push us over the finishing line by letting a string of fake moans fall from my devilish lips.

“Please come for me, Angel.”

With a full-blown roar, this man erupted with a sticky snowstorm gluing my fingers together.

And to be a dirty little thing for Damon, I do something I’ve never done.

“Yum, breakfast.” With a pop of my lips, I lick my hand clean of his mess and watch him do a full-on exorcism moment with the turning of the head.

His teeth gnashing down on his bottom lip, he watches me lick every string of his salty release with hooded eyes that held dark and tempting promises.

Ones I would of course volunteer as tribute.

“You’re going to kill me, I fucking know it.”

He turned back to the road, moving us along to wherever we needed to go for clothes.

My hand resting on the back of his shoulder, I just enjoyed the ride.

Thirty minutes later, we pull into a parking lot of a clothes store that looked to be older than the town itself.

Damon parking in the back, a blacktop parking lot being the only thing newish to the building. I couldn’t even find a store name. No sign, no hour sheet. Nothing.

“Hey, so not assuming anything. But we’re not breaking in, right?”

Damon barked out a laugh, taking the helmet from me and setting it back on the seat my vagina was now imprinted to.

“No. We’re not.”

Surveying the place, I notice there isn’t a car in sight. No other buildings for a little bit of a gap, maybe sixty yards in either direction.

The brownish-beige color looked like it didn’t start out that way.

I think it might have been white but hasn’t been painted in quite some time.

A small square window up the outer wall, closer to the flat roof. A strong-looking reddish-brown door with a gold round knob hung at the back of the building.

The metal trash can beside us stunk to high heaven.

Walking with Damon, we move away from the stink and go near the building.

The back door busts open. Ducking behind Damon, I hear an old woman laugh before a smoker’s cough comes right behind it.

I would be worried if the laugh wasn’t so hearty and he didn’t take us here thinking this was where we would get help.

“Well, this is a first. Who’s the girl?” a scratchy voice asked. Female but older.

“We need clothes,” he calls back, his arm tucking behind him to keep me pressed close. He takes a few steps forward.

I dodge the sharp-looking rocks and the shine of broken glass. A few cigarette butts.

“I can see that, I’m not blind. Yet.”

He walks us closer.

The graying head of a high bun coming into view from the top of his shoulders.

“Does your father know you’re here?”

Damon doesn’t answer, taking another step near the woman he has brought us to.

“Is he going to know?”

Another silent step.

“You look like him when you do this. You know I hate that.”

This makes me chuckle.

~This woman and I will probably get along.~

Another step and I know we are right in front of her. I can smell her White Shoulders perfume and cigarettes. That closed-up room smell wafting out from behind her and the hold she takes on the door.

“Three years, you can’t visit but find yourself and lamb of the night in need of something, magically you show up.”

Damon tenses under my touch.

“She isn’t a lamb… I’m sorry.”

Damon, not saying anything, but I can feel the guilt washing off him.

“Get in before you get the cops called.”

The tsking of her tongue shows a stern hand she must wield.

I like her so far.

With the door opened and Damon leading the charge, I try to cover as much as I can when we pass by. Crossing an arm over my bare ass and squeezing my knees together, I press my boobs into Damon’s back.

“That’s cute. No need for modesty, girl. Ain’t nothing I haven’t seen.”

Her throaty humor meets Damon’s twist to move me behind him.

“What? I can’t talk to her? Don’t start with me, Bunny. I’ll get the spoon.”

Damon’s head hangs in defeat, pulling on my wrist to pull me out a little.

~Bunny?~

“Hello. I’m Savannah. I’m sorry to be… so underdressed.”

I wave, safely tucked behind Damon’s body.

“Savannah, do your parents know who you’re with, where you’re at?”

I swallow and try to figure out how to say this without lying and not killing this friendly vibe we got going here.

“Well, yes and no. My uncle knows I’m with Damon.”

To be fair, this wasn’t a lie.

“Wait a damn minute. Your uncle? Savannah. You’re Jeremiah’s girl, aren’t you? I can see him in your face. Damon, what the fuck are you thinking? Acting just like your damn father. What does he think?”

I was shocked to see she knew my dad and the fact she saw him in my face since I didn’t. My hair was darker than both my parents’.

My eyes are not blue like theirs. Shorter and wider than either of their body types. My dad was above six feet and stayed fit. My mom was five foot nine and was a stick figure, sporty type.

I don’t see them in me. I never have.

~Acting like his dad?~

~Hold up.~

“It’s not up to him if we’re together. I’ll tell him when he needs to know.”

Damon puts on his big boy voice.

“Hey! You watch your tone with me, boy!”

Damon lets go of my wrist to show a hand up in surrender.

“I’m sorry, Grams.”

~GRAMS?~

“You brought me to your grandmother’s house buck-ass naked for the first meeting?”

“Yes, sweetheart, he did. He doesn’t think a lot with the head on his shoulders. Never has. Gets it from his daddy’s side of the family. Don’t worry, I’ll get you covered up.

“If Nina had a lick of sense she—oh never mind, this way, heathens.”