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Four years ago, Bee Carter left her tiny hometown, escaping her tormenters. She concealed her tarnished reputation under a good-girl persona, hiding her history from Nicolas, her strong and silent billionaire; Hawke, her tattooed bad-boy biker; and Cyndi, her man-crazy best friend.
Today, she's returning home … and she's not alone. Some of her deepest, darkest secrets will be revealed. Trust will be tested. Clothing and inhibitions will be discarded. Bee and her hometown will never be the same.
When her past and her present collide, will any of Bee's relationships survive?
“I didn’t know why we stopped.”
Hawke lifts me onto his machine, plunking my ass on the edge of the seat. “We stopped because I was one sweet touch away from showing the entire town my junk.” He places the helmet on my head and fastens the straps. “Did you want that?”
Did I want that? Did I want people to watch me as I sank to my knees before Hawke, as I pulled down his jeans, released his cock, stroked him, sucked on him?
I hesitate a moment before shaking my head.
“You did want that.” Hawke runs a calloused fingertip along my cheek and I tremble, needing him, craving him. “You’re so damn perfect for me.” He skims his fingers over my lips. I dart my tongue between the seams, tasting the salt of his skin. “We’ll go somewhere more private than this yet public enough to excite you.” His eyes gleam. “Then you can do with me whatever you wish.”
“You’re assuming I want to do something.” I feign a frown.
“You do.” Hawke laughs as he mounts the bike.
The damn man is right. I want to lick him all over, explore every inch of his rock-hard body. He tugs on my knees, sliding me closer to him. I straddle his hips, wrap my arms around his chest, and push my body against his, torturing both of us. We fit together perfectly, my curves meshing with his muscle.
“Hold on, love.” Hawke revs the throttle, the seat vibrates under me, through me, and my arousal spirals skyward. I moan into his shoulder blades, mouthing the cotton of his black T-shirt, and his body shakes, my badass biker finding joy in my sexual frustration, his mirth obscured by the roaring engine.
Two can play at this game. I cup the ridge in Hawke’s jeans with both of my hands, he curses, and we jet forward, the motion propelling me backward. I cling tighter to his denim-covered cock. Hawke rides even faster, his spine rigid against my breasts.
In mere minutes, we blast past Happydale’s city limits sign, the sign I’d changed with a thick black marker when I left, subtracting one from the town’s population. Hawke continues to ride, moving in sync with his machine, traveling toward his perfect spot.
I’m not as patient as he is. I pop his fly, one button at a time, releasing his junk, as he calls his long, thick cock. My rebel marine doesn’t believe in underwear, all of him gloriously accessible.
I push the flaps away from him and curl my fingers around his shaft, relishing his girth, his size. He’s the biggest man I’ve ever held. . .not that I’ve held a lot of men. My dating life consisted of boring, safe boys.
There’s nothing boring or safe about Hawke. As the wind plucks at our clothes and the pavement blurs beneath us, I pump him slowly, steadily, concentrating on learning his size and shape, pleasing him, trusting my tattooed biker to pay attention to the road, to find us a place to stop, to finish this.
I know I shouldn’t touch him. Any of the drivers passing us can see me fondle Hawke, can see my fingers wrapped around his cock.
About the Author:
Cynthia Sax lives in a world where demons aren’t all bad, angels aren’t all good, and magic happens every single day. Although her heroes may not always say, “I love you”, they will do anything for the women they love. They live passionately. They fight fiercely. They love the same women forever.
Cynthia has loved the same wonderful man forever. Her supportive hubby offers himself up to the joys and pains of research, while they travel the world together, meeting fascinating people and finding inspiration in exotic places such as Istanbul, Bali, and Chicago.