Rode Hard: Roadside Attractions Book Five Read online

  For now, I’m in the moment. I’m dancing with Donovan on a beautiful November night under the lights out back of My Other Brother Ben’s Bar on the night before Thanksgiving, with all of my friends watching, to my favorite song.

  And for the first time in forever, I am feeling myself.

  Chapter Three

  Donovan

  Twenty-four hours ago, I was mounting my motorcycle and heading south with no plan other than to spend Thanksgiving with Rebecca.

  And I made it.

  I’m going to stay here, keep my forehead pressed against hers, and wrap Rebecca in my arms as much as she can stand it. I hope she can stand it for a long time.

  I make a half-assed attempt at slow dancing, but I think we and everyone else watching and murmuring around us seems to know what’s happening here. We are falling in love.

  Good.

  I’m glad they’re paying attention.

  From the sound of it, she seldom is accused of having a romantic life, and I’m here to change that.

  I’m not here to blow the doors off or make her feel struck by lightning; I’m just here to take care of her and absorb everything about her and make her mine.

  I’ll have to tell her eventually the truth about my circumstances, but that can wait.

  For now, I just want to live in the moment and watch her enjoy herself.

  Her cheek resting against my chest while we move to the music makes my heart hammer against my bones. Her breath warms my shirt and sets off electricity across my chest.

  I loosen my grip on her, prompting her to look up at me with those big, searching eyes.

  We share a moment of staring like two kids who are not paying attention to the teacher but making moony eyes at each other in class.

  “Thank god I didn’t know you in high school,” I say with a smirk.

  “Why?” Rebecca’s face gives away that she’s preparing herself for an insult.

  I angle my face so my lips are close to her ear and reply, “They would never have given me my diploma because I’d have been spending every waking moment kissing you. Like this.”

  The first touch of our lips turns my brain to jello and the rest of my insides into molten liquid. Rebecca kisses me back tentatively at first. I can feel the heat radiating from her cheeks.

  We deepen the kiss slightly as I catch her pouty bottom lip between mine. I feel her breath as she sighs, and her breasts press as she melts into me. My pulse is at full gallop now.

  Rebecca’s arms slide around my neck, her fingernails combing the sensitive nape where I’m shaved down to bristles. She has no idea how good that feels. I pull her tighter and let my tongue take what it wants, teasing her lips to open for me.

  Rebecca quickly opens to me, and our tongues tangle together in a warm, leisurely kiss.

  My cock twitches; my heart might just break a rib. Her soft moans embed into my ego; I admit it. They make me feel like twice the man I probably am. I don’t even lift at the gym, but I made this hot girl moan within five minutes of meeting her, and that’s all I need in this world.

  Rebecca’s nails harmlessly scratch my neck, but they make a permanent impression; I henceforth will be requiring this spot to be marked daily by her.

  She’s leaving her mark on me, and she doesn’t even know it.

  As we kiss, deeper, slower, and wetter by the minute, I can’t help but think about getting her home. I want those nails raking me everywhere: Down my bare back, my chest, my ass, through my beard. I want to rid myself of these clothes and give Rebecca the ride of her life. I want to make her come until she’s breathless and spent, and then repeat all the fun until we both happily, spontaneously combust.

  My heat builds as her tongue searches for more. There’s nothing left to explore here until…until I get her alone and let her really go to town on me. Watch her wrap those pouty lips around my cock and suck me so tight…fuck. I’m getting ahead of myself. Keep it PG, big guy. You’re macking on a pillar of the community here.

  Her body is so tight to me, her legs start to scramble because there’s nowhere else to go but up.

  I smile wickedly as the tonguing continues, wondering how far she’s gonna go before someone calls the police. Judging by the grip of her legs, Rebecca is gonna climb me like a telephone pole and let me ring her bell in front of the entire town.

  Maybe she’s a town leader, but also, perhaps I don’t give a fuck. I don’t know any of these people.

  Get a grip, Donovan.

  I’ll claim her on the dance floor, but this ain’t the place to lay waste to each other.

  Breathless, I insist we leave.

  I whisper in her ear. “Do you feel safe going somewhere private?”

  Rebecca studies my face and then slowly nods.

  “My bike is parked on the street.”

  We haul ass around the side of the building, so we don’t have to weave through the crowd inside.

  Rebecca straddles the seat and takes hold of the handlebars. “This is so cool! And comfy!”

  I approach, chuckling, and adjust her on the seat. “Sorry, baby girl, you ride in back. I steer.”

  “Okay, but will you teach me how to drive it someday?”

  That “someday” word gives me a brief moment of hope. My heart and stomach leap for joy until Rebecca corrects herself.

  “I mean like, you know. Sometime this weekend. Before your business meeting.”

  Do I tell her the truth now?

  I lean in and talk directly into her ear, “I’ll teach you whatever you want, whenever you want.”

  She blushes and looks away, and she’s somehow cuter than she was five minutes ago.

  I take a mental snapshot of this gorgeous creature sitting casually on the back of my bike like she’s my girlfriend—like she’s my wife—my fingers combing through her locks. Her thick thighs in those jeans look good on my ride. Her cat-eye glasses and wavy dark hair are so damn sexy. The whole picture of her is so sweet that I can’t help but imagine her soft belly round with our baby. Shit. I’ll have to sell the bike and buy a minivan.

  “Ready to go, Rebecca?”

  Her eyes light up, and it squeezes every sentimental bone in my aching body. Whatever it takes, I’m going to make her feel as incandescent as she looks right now, every day for the rest of my life.

  “Hang on! There’s one thing I’ve never done that I want to do before we leave if you don’t mind.”

  “Okay.”

  Shit. This lady could ask me to do the chicken dance on top of the bar, and I would do it.

  I watch her dismount the bike and then gesture for me to hurry up. The tiny, irrational sliver of doubt makes me think for a nanosecond that this is the part where she kicks me to the curb. Tricks me into getting on my bike and driving away, so she can ditch me.

  Of course, that’s not what happens.

  I follow her instructions and sit on my bike. She comes at me a little strange and awkward, trying to do something with her legs. “Oh,” I chuckle, finally figuring out that she’s trying to mount the motorcycle backward to sit on my lap.

  Laughing, I take over and swiftly arrange her, so she’s straddling me face to face.

  “Like this?”

  She nods. “I like this view.”

  Damn, I do too. I like to think of myself as an enlightened man, but there’s a massive set of tits in my face. I’m on the verge of drooling, just waiting for the invitation to make my face disappear in that lush valley.

  I would. I totally would grope her in public. Her smiling face angles down and catches my mouth in a heart-melting kiss. She tastes like sweetened coffee and smells like the ocean. Kissing her like this was a great idea. The fact that she’s never made out on the back of a motorcycle before is a damn shame. It’s a damn shame I’ve never done this before either because this is really fucking fun.

  I forget where we are, and I run my hands over her hips, up her back, jerking her hips closer to me. She sighs into my mouth again, and I don’t think I’ll ever tire of it.

  Her hips grind into me, dry humping my rock-hard cock with too much barrier in between us.

  I want more. I need more.

  I want to talk to her, read to her, sing to her, dance with her, devour her, and of course, I want to fuck her. Fuck her good. Then I want to make love to her, then fuck her again until she doesn’t remember any of the daily annoyances sucking up her time.

  “Is Becky okay?” I hear someone ask.

  “I think she’s drunk.”

  “Good for her; it’s about time.”

  “Get it, Becky.”

  I pull away from the kiss and bark. “Her name’s Rebecca.”

  Rebecca gasps and covers her mouth. “Donovan, it’s okay,” she laughs.

  I shake my head. “No, it ain’t. Let’s go before I get myself in trouble for setting everyone straight on a few more things.”

  “Let’s go home,” she says, and I see the slight shiver.

  If only she knew what that phrase means to me.

  “Point the way, sweets.”

  Chapter Four

  Donovan

  Rebecca’s presence makes up for having to hoist my aching ass back on that bike after such a long, brutal day on the road. Her arms wrap snugly around my middle; her cheek rests against my shoulder blade. This is good. I’m never going to ride this bike again unless my woman is wrapped tight to me, that is for certain.

  She points out the turns over my shoulder, and I follow as if I haven’t already memorized the layout for her town. Not much to commit to mind, to be honest.

  The pictures she’d sent me don’t do justice to her Winnebago. It’s cute as fuck, just like her. She’s got a party deck attached to it, strung with lights and an arrangement of mismatched furniture that
just sort of works. I’m already imagining serving her coffee out here to watch the sunrise.

  Rebecca hops off, and I take the helmet from her. I note how messy her hair falls past her shoulders, conjuring thoughts about losing myself in those locks, imagining how they’re going to feel tickling my chest when she’s riding me hard, leaning in for a kiss while my cock is nestled in her tight spot.

  She smiles, her cheeks flushed as she pulls me along behind her. “Let me give you the grand tour.”

  I step inside the Winnebago after Rebecca, into a space that looks much bigger and cozier on the inside than it has any right to. Everything is brightly colored and inviting.

  Rebecca nervously points out all the features inside: the stove, the fridge, the living area, and the second bedroom that is choked with boxes and portable display shelves for books.

  “Through here is the bathroom. And through the small hallway is my room.”

  She blushes and looks at the floor.

  “You don’t have to show me your room,” I assure her. Please show me your room. Please.

  I try hard to pay attention because the truth is I’m impressed by her. I love books; this is one of the things that attracted us to each other in the first place. She’s opening all the cupboards now and showing me her dishes, silverware. Opening her fridge, where she keeps her hot mustard that I know she likes.

  “And that’s my teeny tiny kitchen where I make the gourmet meals for my little old self.”

  “I’d love to watch you cook,” I say.

  “I could cook for you!”

  I smile, noticing her eyes brightening up for half a second, then tragically losing the spark once more.

  “I mean, at some point. There’s a whole bunch of Thanksgiving stuff I’m supposed to make for tomorrow for my family though it’s not my favorite. I love putting interesting spins on stuffing and cranberries, but my family doesn’t appreciate it. They just want the basics. Is your family like that too?”

  My mom is most definitely not like that. “They sort of do their own thing. They are very much off-the-beaten-path kind of people. Which is why they were okay with me not being there for Thanksgiving.”

  She nods, then puts out her hand like she’s offering something. “You don’t have to come to my family Thanksgiving dinner. I hope you don’t think I invited you here to meet my family. I wouldn’t do that.”

  I need her to calm down, but I don’t dare use those words. I know better than that.

  Instead, I tower over her and wrap my arms around her. I kiss her right in the middle of the forehead. “Sweets, I would love to meet your family tomorrow, if you want me to. I know you didn’t intend that with the Friendsgiving invitation. But since I do plan on still being here tomorrow, let’s do it.”

  Rebecca exhales. “So glad you said that. I didn’t want you to think….”

  I really shouldn’t go around shushing this woman with my lips, but that’s what I do. I press my mouth over hers until she stops that nervous chatter. She fits against me, humming a soft sigh into my mouth.

  “Rebecca,” I say when I release her from the kiss, “A team of sharpshooters could not have kept me away from you when you invited me. I knew exactly how this date was going to go, and nothing was gonna stand in the way of it. If you want me to meet your family or you don’t, it’s up to you.”

  She breathes. “Honestly, I’d just as soon skip it. Everyone’s being downright ugly this year.”

  This pinches my heart. I hate the idea of anyone being ugly to her. But I understand. From all the time we’ve spent chatting, I know her family can be a handful.

  Because I’m a low-down dirty dog, I lay another kiss on her, bathing the inside of her mouth with my tongue, then kiss my way to her ear where I murmur real low, “Maybe we skip Thanksgiving and get real nasty in our own way.”

  She trembles against me, shivering at my words in her ear. “Donovan.”

  “Rebecca.”

  She blows out a breath, and I feel her breasts mash into my chest. She feels so good. “I’m so glad you’re actually here. I still can’t believe it.”

  I never want to stop kissing her. Or holding her. Or running my hands all over her.

  This time I let her be the one to deepen the kiss with her tongue. I want to grab one of those beautiful tits so bad, but I don’t do that yet. I wait until I feel her nails through my shirt and her groin pressed against my hard erection.

  I speak again into her ear. “Rebecca, may I touch your breast?”

  “Yes, please,” she whispers.

  I take one of them in my hand and gently squeeze. She moans quietly as I rub over her soft sweater.

  “You good with that?”

  “Mm. Yep,” she hums softly. “But you keep going like this, we’re gonna miss the Friendsgiving turkey at eight.”

  Fuck turkey. Who needs food when one can have their hands full of soft, ample Rebecca tits? I can’t wait to be rid of these clothes, but I’m living in the moment for now. I love groping her just like this, seeing what she likes.

  “Just for the record, you can do whatever you want to with your hands. Feel free.”

  Rebecca’s wicked smile is almost as rewarding as the way she reaches down and drifts her palm over my rigid length.

  My desire for her spikes at this slight pressure, and I have to control my urge to take those two steps to the left and fall with her onto her bed.

  I love the way she kisses back. Sweet yet urgent. Like she wants to ratchet everything to the next level. Her lips are so soft against mine. Every part of her feels full and soft and lovely. The kissing and petting over our clothes is eventually not enough.

  I touch my finger to the hem of her sweater. “May I—“

  “Yes, good god, yes. Whatever you want, Donovan.”

  I kiss her on the nose. “I love your urgency, sweetheart, but I have to ask permission because the truth is you don’t really know me. I want you to know I am fully aware that you are a woman alone with a strange man in your house, about to be in a very vulnerable situation. You’re just going to have to let me be polite, okay?”

  Her eyes shine, and she blinks several times when I finish talking.

  “Thank you. No one’s ever been this polite to me since I’ve been single.”

  My throat constricts, and my words come out low and scratchy. “Who said you were single?”

  “Hm?”

  “You ain’t single anymore, sweets. Not unless you wanna be.”

  She takes a beat, then inhales sharply. “Thank you for saying that. No, I don’t want to be single anymore. I’ve never been in a serious relationship before, and I’m tired of it. I like you. If you feel the same way, then I’m a happy girl.”

  I run my hand up her sweater and palm her sweet tummy. Rebecca shivers and stares up at me with a heated gaze. I lazily let my hand roam up until it comes to rest on her left breast, my other hand lazing on her voluminous peachy backside, hooking my thumb in the waistband of her jeans.

  I ache for her. I’m sad that no one has ever seen what I see. But the jealous gremlin inside is also happy that she’s single because she’s mine. I want to declare it now that she’s mine; I’m hers.

  Using my palm to nudge the lace aside, I free one breast into my hand. Her satiny skin is almost too much for me to bear. “Rebecca,” I whisper.

  Her hand increases its pressure over my cock, and the heel of her palm grinds against me. “Donovan.”

  My thumb scrapes over her nipple, teasing it, noticing how it grows and hardens under my touch. I repeat her name as we continue kissing, our petting growing in intensity. I need more. I need all of her. I let go of that breast and do the same to the other, using my free hand to explore the broad expanse of her round ass. This time I dip my hand inside her waistband.

  She moans as I swipe my thumb over that nipple, then kiss it through her sweater. Her hand goes up my shirt and tugs my undershirt out of my jeans.

  Her hand pauses on my fly as we kiss and grope and grind. She looks up at me with a question mark in her eyes.

  “Go ahead. Touch it, take it out; it’s yours.”

  I’m hoping the “yours” thing wasn’t too much.