Dear M, who shall remain a single letter, thanks for cleaning this up. Kisses.

XXX

"Wanna go for a ride?"

"Are you out of your fucking mind?" This was Forks, for fuck's sake. Everyone knew me in this town. Little Isabella Swan, the apple of her father's eyes was not the horny girl who picked up strange ex-convicts on trains and fucked like crazy. I wasn't about to upset that image by consorting with the town's newest ex-criminal. "Get out of my way."

He was at least a foot taller than I was and a hell lot bigger. We were in between houses but if I shouted loud enough, somebody was bound to hear me.

"Relax, I'm just asking you out for a ride. This monster's big enough for two." He patted the bike, his voice cajoling.

Just a ride, my ass. He might be a fantastic lay but he was also a sociopath, with a personality bordering on narcissistic. The psychiatrist who tested him during his trial didn't call him a clinical nutcase but there had been a general consensus that something was definitely wrong with his head.

"Fuck off."

He laughed, sending shivers down my spine. "Did you know Chief Swan had a picture of his daughter on his desk? A very pretty, very sweet girl. He didn't want to brag when Carlisle asked after her, not with me in the same room, but he did anyway. Told us an earful about his Bella. Told us she was inside the station, too, helping with a case. He didn't offer to introduce me, which was a little rude of him. But he doesn't need to, does he? I already know her quite well, too well, in fact."

He was leering, the motherfucker. "Are you blackmailing me?"

"Blackmailing you? For what? For something fathers have no business knowing about their daughters?"

It was ridiculous but I honestly didn't know if he was joking or not.

"If I come with you, will you leave me alone?"

He laughed again and the sound went straight directly to my crotch, firing up my belly.

"Get on the bike, sweetheart. Now."

The tone turned harder, less cajoling, and I shivered again. I should've ignored him. I should've walked away and never looked back. But I didn't. Instead of backing off, I stepped forward and an irrational urge to mount him and stick my tongue down his throat nearly overwhelmed me.

Something was obviously very, very wrong with me.

Blocking the voice that told me to run, I took the offered helmet and strapped it over my head. I mounted the Harley and wrapped my arms around him like a dutiful little girl.

He turned to look down at me, his eyes on my lips, and murmured, "Any place you wanna go?"

"Turn left at the next corner." The street led to a back road to La Push, a long stretch of rough asphalt with no speed limit. He gunned the engine several times and the passenger seat vibrated, sending tremors directly into me, making me instantly wet. Goddammit.

"Hold on tight."

The machine between my legs hummed, slowly driving me crazy. I sought to relieve the tension, rocking onto the seat but the vibrations just shot right into me, massaging my clit, doubling my frustrations.

I clutched at his jacket, holding on to him tightly. The muscles of his stomach flexed under my hand as he pressed back.

Hmmmm... time for some tit for fucking tat, sweetheart. I moved a hand up, found the zipper of his jacket and pulled it open. I slipped both hands inside, brushing my hands over his nipples, already hard and taut under his shirt. He stepped on the gas in response. The bike accelerated and the tremors between my legs intensified, like a vibrator turned on high speed. I wanted to whimper, but I knew he'd hear me over the wind.

I pressed myself harder against him, squeezing my breasts against his leather-clad back, grinding my crotch against his ass, rubbing my legs against his. I wanted more contact, more friction. But I knew this ride was for him and I would only have my relief if I could make him stop on the road.

Fuck me, then, if I couldn't make him stop.

I slid my hand lower, covering his crotch and squeezed. He sucked in a breath and shifted, rubbing himself into my hand.

Good boy. I found the button of his jeans and he shifted again, giving me space so I could loosen the next few buttons. I could feel his cock throb with his heartbeat under his jeans, straining to be freed. I reached inside and his cock sprang from his boxers, erect and hard. The skin felt soft and dry and I started caressing him, jerking him off in small, circular motions.

"Harder, sweetheart," he groaned loudly over the wind, throwing his head back and leaning against me. The bike started to wobble, careening onto the side where the road was rough and uneven. We bounced on the seats, rocking against each other. I wrapped both my hands on his cock and gripped him tighter, jerking him faster. I straightened my knees slightly to reach up to his neck, not letting go of his cock or stopping my ministrations. His eyes were focused on the road, his hands gripping the handlebars tightly. He was intent on getting us back over the asphalt and maintaining speed, but he was already breathing raggedly, his heartbeat wild and erratic. I could feel mine beat in tandem to his and fuck me if I wasn't close. My pussy was starting to contract from sheer exhilaration and my panties were already damp. It was getting too frustrating. We had too many layers between us. I unstrapped the helmet, took it off and threw it to the side of the road. With the wind on his hair and mine, I sucked on his neck, earning a groan and a "fuck, sweetheart." But the fucker didn't stop, didn't even slow down. The bike flew over the asphalt at a steady speed. Without thinking, I sank my teeth into his shoulder.

"FUCK!" he yelled as he came and the bike wobbled and jerked, skidding unto the edge of the road dangerously. We'd been going fast, way too fast, and he was losing control of the machine fast. He turned the bike to head for the trees and we plunged deep into the undergrowth.

I held on to him and screamed. It was fucking insane.

XXX

She was a perfect fit behind me, small but snug. Her tits against my back, her pussy against my ass, her hands jerking me off like a joystick. I pushed the Harley towards its maximum speed, courting danger and gambling with our lives. The rush was more intense than anything I've ever experienced, more exhilarating than the hardest car heist I'd pulled. The wind, the speed, the wild girl behind me who was intent on making me cum so I would stop on the road and fuck her. Her hands, her mouth, her body wrapped around my back was killing me slowly, excruciatingly. I held off, intent on prolonging the torture but she was horny and impatient and I've never wanted anyone as much I wanted her. The need turned into a craving, bordering on a dangerous addiction. Before I could stop myself, I was cumming in her hands.

"FUCK!"

Before I lost total control of the bike and crashed us to our deaths, I swerved and drove us right into the trees, dodging the undergrowth. I searched for a clearing, anywhere where we could stop and I could fuck her ten ways to Sunday. She was screaming behind me, holding on to my cum-slick cock for dear life.

"You're fucking crazy!" I yelled at her.

"So are you!" She yelled back.

It was sheer, utter madness.

Every sensation was magnified. Every breath, exhilarating. I started laughing. After a moment, she joined in. We laughed and she squealed and yelled hysterically as we bounced against the seat and against each other.

We were still laughing when I chanced on a clearing and brought the bike to a full stop.

Then I wasn't.

"No, no, no...," she fought me off as I tore through her clothes, "don't ruin the jacket." She unzipped her jacket as I pulled down her jeans and panties, wanting her naked as fast as possible. I went straight for her pussy before she could get her shirt off, preliminaries be damned. She gasped and stretched out, holding on to the handlebars behind her before she could fall off. I had her draped over the Harley, her back against the gas tank, her ass held firmly by the bike's curved seat. The bike was on a kickstand but I'd left the engine on idle, the vibrations shaking her back, her ass, her pussy. I pushed her shirt up her tits surged into the cool air and I bent down for a taste. Sweet, so fucking sweet. She looked glorious, debauched, wanton. Waiting for more, begging to be fucked and ridden.

And ride her I did. Hard, deep and fast. Her hands on the handlebars, her legs on the air, I banged into her, grunting, groaning, telling her how fucking sweet she was, how good she felt. She took to thrusting back, ensuring she had every inch of me inside her. It didn't take long for an orgasm to hit her and she moaned a long, drawn-out fuck as she shook and quivered. I followed a minute later.

I pulled her up, our crotches still joined and rode out a mutual orgasm. She slumped against me, exhausted.

"Poor baby."

She looked up at my words and smiled in a daze. Even after a rough fuck, she looked innocent. I leaned down and gave her a long, overdue kiss.

We stayed in that uncomfortable position, silent and tired, until it became too cold.

"Take me back," she said, minutes later.

She was silent on the ride back, her hands behaved and still. She couldn't be worrying about Chief Swan. We'd been gone less than an hour so nobody would've noticed her absence. She told me to stop a few meters away from the diner, intent on not being seen with me.

She swung her legs off, dismounting the bike.

"Listen...," she started, fidgeting, looking at the toes of her shoes. "I don't think we should see each other."

I laughed. Funny, that was the farthest thing on my mind. "Why not?

"I don't think it's a good idea."

"It doesn't have to be a good idea."

"Look," her tone hardened. "Just stay away from me, ok?"

She stalked off and didn't look back. There was something off with the way she said it, like an undisguised fear. She couldn't be that worried about the town or her father knowing that she fancied an ex-con. Nobody needed to know how we first met. Nobody even needed to know that she was seeing me at all. I had no problems with being discreet.

But whatever it was could wait. I had things to do before I could start anything with her. I needed to call up someone first, set-up a meeting long overdue by eight years. Then I had to show Carlisle and Esme, and even Chief of fucking Forks Swan that I was a reformed motherfucker.

One thing was clear, though. Nothing and no one was going to keep me away from her.

XXX

Sit tight, something's coming.