Chapter Eight
The 1977 Harley Davidson Low Rider.
Sitting proudly between various sedans and other bikes, it was like walking up to a champion racehorse among circus ponies. Completely black. Muscular. Low-slung seat. Impressive engine. Protruding front wheel. Beautiful customization.
Even for Grace, who was no stranger to classic Americana vehicles, this was one sexy chopper.
"Wow," she whispered appreciatively.
Rigsby nodded as they stared at it. "She's pretty, isn't she?"
"I might leave you for her," Grace murmured teasingly as she reached out and reverently ran her finger along the striking curvature. Rigsby chuckled softly.
"Next you're going to tell me you've never ridden in your life. Right before you pop a wheelie and jump her through a ring of fire." He arched his brow in playful accusation.
Grace snickered. "The saying, 'She's too much car for you' applies, here. She's too heavy for little old me." She gave him a pouty little grin. "So? How 'bout a ride, mister?"
Rigsby ran his eyes over the bike, as if reacquainting himself with her, before throwing his leg over the side and settling into the deep seat. His long frame slouched back seductively, his long legs gripped either side. His strong hands gripped the handles. He was instantly a man in his element. He cocked his head and gave her a sheepish shrug.
"What do you think?"
"I take it back," she bit her lips in arousal. "You two were made for each other."
He snorted as he jammed the key into the ignition, turning them before he stood up halfway and—increasing Grace's heady desire—smashed his heel down and kick-started the engine to life. The machine roared joyously under his body. He gunned it a bit, running his hand lightly over the acceleration grip. It rumbled and reverberated through the air, purring like a tiger.
Grace couldn't help it. Her core was instantly wet.
"We don't have helmets," he called over the noise.
She wiggled her brows at him and gestured to their sunglasses tucked into their collars. "Then we'll just stay off the busy roads."
He shook his head in amusement and put on his shades. "And to think we're cops." He jerked his head suggestively. "Jump on."
Grace squealed and skipped to the back, straddling the back of the seat and settling tightly against him. They were wedged in, she had to brace her feet against the passenger pedals and press fully into his weight, her arms immediately seeking anchorage around his waist. The engine emitted heavy vibrations that passed through both of them. She felt it through his back, through her calves, and between her thighs. Her mouth dropped slightly against his jacket as she let the erotic sensations wash over her.
Wayne had to admit it. He may have hated this bike as a child, but as a man, sitting in it properly with a sexy woman pressed tightly into his ass, it was quickly starting to grow on him. Unlike 23 years ago, he could see clearly over the bars. Unlike 23 years ago, he was in control of where it took him. Over the purr of the engine, he heard Grace moan softly against his back. Oh yes. He was definitely warming to this bike.
With a smug, Fuck You smirk firmly in place, Rigsby kicked the stand away and rolled his dad's pride and joy out of the impound and onto the open road. His old driving lessons from the gang roared back, just like the engine beneath him. He might have been a kid, but he'd paid attention. And now that he could properly handle the weight, it was literally just like riding a bike. And Christ, did it handle beautifully. The juice in this beast was amazing. It responded to the slightest touch.
Like Grace.
He chuckled as he pushed his speed up, taking her from 50 to 70mph along a quiet road leading out of the city. He felt Grace grip his chest harder, bunching her fists into his t-shirt and shrieking with delight. Her breasts were pressed into his back and he groaned at the feel of her sculpted so sensually against him. She'd been so right. This was them, doing whatever the hell they wanted. Cross had nothing to do with it. Redwoods, motorcycles and many other things had existed long before he showed up and fucked Rigsby's perception of them. If Rigsby wanted to ride, he could. If he wanted to hike in a national forest, he would. And right now? He was taking his girlfriend somewhere he remembered from his past. Somewhere beautiful. It might not be the woods, but southern California still had a lot to offer his prairie girl.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
They sped along a narrow highway for about an hour before they broke through suburbia and hit the desert. Joshua trees waved at them from the sea of sand and sagebrush. The clean, pure smell of arid vegetation and zero humidity filled their noses and shot through their hair. Barren mountain ranges surrounded them on all sides. A stark landscape. Almost lunar. Undeniably beautiful.
Grace pointed and laughed and sighed at the foreign ecosystem. Rigsby smiled, feeling her happiness radiate into him. He slowed and turned off onto a dirt road, taking them deeper into the desert for about two miles before coming to a large pile of boulders surrounded by Joshua trees. He drove the bike around to the shady side before killing the engine. The sudden loss of vibration and sound caused the immediate silence to feel deafening.
Grace quickly hopped off the back, only to pivot, throw her leg in front of him, and straddle his lap. She giggled like a schoolgirl before cupping his face and swooping in on him.
"Thank you (kiss) thank you (kiss) thank you (kiss) thank you!" Words and kisses rained on his cheeks, chin and nose. He laughed and grabbed her hips for balance as she pulled back, her grin putting the desert sun to shame.
"That was incredible! We're stealing this bike. And this place!" She swiveled her head in all directions before bringing her gaze back to him. "Where are we?"
Rigsby cast his eyes to the soft, sandy indentations of chopper wheels at their feet. "We're at an Outlaw stop. See there?" He pointed to a faded burn mark in the sand. "Campfire. But don't worry," he said when he saw her eyes go round. "They haven't been here in months. See this?" He reached over and ran his fingers down a strange set of letters and numbers on one of the boulders. "These are the initials and dates of the gangs. The last one was here…in March." He turned to her and smiled. "I doubt another gang will show up in the next hour."
Grace leaned into him and captured his lips, taking her time to kiss him thoroughly. Her arms went around his neck and she pulled her legs up to wrap them around his waist. Still holding the bike up with his legs, Rigsby growled softly into her mouth while his heel kicked blindly until it connected with the kickstand. Once the bike was secure, he gripped her thighs and opened her wider and harder against him, deepening their kiss and plumbing her mouth with his tongue.
She moved her kiss to his jaw and his head dropped back, giving her the access she wanted as she drew long, wet kisses down his throat. "I am so in love with you," she moaned into his skin.
"Because I'm so pure?" She heard teasing in his voice.
She pulled back, locking her eyes onto his. "Among other things."
His brow arched suggestively. "Such as?"
She arched hers in return. "Because you're so achingly fuckable when you sit on this chopper."
His teasing expression disappeared. He cupped her ass and yanked her hard against him, grinding their pelvises, creating delicious friction between their two sets of jeans. Grace moaned and leaned back against the engine block, spreading herself open for his hands to explore. They instantly ran up her t-shirt, circling her bellybutton before traveling north to cup her breasts through her bra. She threw her head back and whimpered.
"Jesus Christ, baby." His dark, sandpapery voice. A gift from his father. Grace stomped the thought the moment it sprang up. She opened her eyes and gazed at Wayne. Her Wayne. She shoved her hips against his as she balanced on him and the bike.
"I want you to fuck me," she whispered hotly to him. She immediately pulled her baby tee off and reached back to unhook her bra. "Right now."
"No!" he barked at her, pulling her upright and stopping her hands. She mewled in disappointment, thinking he didn't want to make love in this place, with all of the issues he had with it, but he only dismounted it and dragged her off with him. He turned her roughly away and clamped his hands over the hooks over her bra. "Mine," he hissed into her ear as he released the catch and slid the straps down her arms. His hands cupped her breasts hungrily, weighing and molding them as his nipped and sucked at her throat.
"Yes!" she groaned in relief. She tilted her head to the side and let him bite her gently, leaving wet circles that instantly cooled and dried in the desert heat. "More," she whispered pleadingly. "Touch me more."
"Unzip your pants," he ordered. Her fingers shot to the button and snapped it loose before pulling the zipper all the way down.
"Talk to me," she murmured as she slid them passed her thighs. "Tell me what you're thinking."
One hand drifted from her breast and slid down her taut stomach and into her panties. He hissed when he found her so slippery and dripping that she instantly coated his fingers. He wet them thoroughly before sliding them up to massage her tight little bud. She cried out and bucked her ass into his groin.
"I'm thinking that I'm going to strip you naked and take you right here on this black bitch," he jerked his head towards the bike.
"Yeeees," Grace moaned longingly as she kicked off her shoes and stepped out of her jeans.
"I'm thinking that I want your come to wash all over it. All over me." He smacked her ass lightly, making her sob as his fingers continued to rub and roll and flick her. "I want to fuck you so hard that every time I see a chopper," he bit her earlobe. "I come right there in my pants."
Grace yanked his hands away and turned in his arms, ripping at his pants and pulling his raging erection out of his fly. He went to pull them down from his hips, but she stopped him. "No. Stay dressed." She pushed him to straddle the seat once again. "I want to fuck you just the way you are."
Rigsby expected her to straddle his lap as she'd done before, but she had to go and give him a stroke by turning away and straddling the bike. In front of him. He was standing partially, which gave her room to pull her knees up onto the seat and slid her legs under his. She gripped the handles and arched her back, turning to look at him over her shoulder.
"Please," she begged softly, her wet center inviting and unbearably sweet as she offered herself to him. "I need you. Hard as you can."
"Oh, baby," he moaned softly. He stood up more fully, grounding his heels into the sand before bringing his cock forward to brush along her entrance. "You're so unbelievably sexy." He ran his hands over the hourglass of her hips and waist as his tip slipped easily between her soaking lips. "You're so hot that I just want to break my dick off in you."
"Do it," she cried impatiently. Goddamn him, he knew that dirty talk drove her crazy. "Give it to me."
He growled loudly and complied, gripping her hips and thrusting deeply. "Fuck!" he roared as her tight body swallowed him whole, clenching him so hard that he nearly passed out with ecstasy.
Grace sobbed and reared back, her body expanding with excruciating pleasure at her lover's presence. "Oh, fuck yes!" she screamed. Why not? Who would hear her?
Rigsby pulled back and drove in hard again, grunting with pleasure as she swore with hers. "You like this, baby? Getting fucked on a Harley in the middle of a desert?"
"Oh God, yes," she whispered fiercely, looking over her shoulder to watch him pump wildly into her. With her legs firmly shut between his, his cock slid against her inner thighs, creating a second source of friction that had her gasping and whimpering for more. "You feel so good, Wayne. So so good."
He could feel his cock grow even harder at her words, if that was possible. "Raise your hips, baby. Open up to me. Thaaaaat's it. Oh, Jesus. I could fuck you for hours, Grace. You hear me? I could stand here all day holding your gorgeous ass and watching my cock slide inside of you. Just. Like. This." He rammed home with each word.
"Pleeeease," she moaned, her brain on fire with the images he poured into her head. She nearly broke her spine as she arched as far as she could to allow for deepest penetration. "Touch me," she whimpered.
"Where?" he growled.
"Everywhere. Rub my clit. Help me come. I need to come so bad, baby, please."
He suddenly pulled out and she cried out with frustration. "No!"
"Turn over. I want your eyes, Grace."
She flipped instantly, learning back into the engine block and handles like before. It wasn't comfortable. She didn't notice. Her legs went around his jean-clad hips as he nudged into place and plunged deeply. They groaned together in relief.
"Fuck, you're so wet. What gets you this hot?" He held her hips to steady them both as he pounded hard inside of her. His eyes burned into hers. God, she loved this game. He wanted something from her. As his index finger rolled her clit and made her spasm with pleasure, she gave it to him. Like always.
"You make me wet, Wayne. You make me hot." She broke off and sobbed as he massaged her faster in reward. "I want to fuck you all the time. At work. At home. In the middle of the fucking desert—aaah!" His thrusts were getting harder. Faster.
"YES!" she cried out. "So close, baby, so close."
"You gonna come for me?"
"Yes!"
"You gonna burn me up and tear me to pieces when you do?"
"Yes! God, yes. I'll come so hard for you. I promise."
His speed exploded and the pressure on her clit spiked and nearly struck her blind.
A whisper. Dark. Frightening. Enthralling. "Come for me, Grace."
Light exploded in her body and every muscle went rigid. Her lungs froze with shock before overwhelming ecstasy detonated in every cell, destroying her with pleasure. Every nerve flared outward, then drew in, dragging her lover into the blast radius. She screamed louder than she ever had before. No neighbors could hear her. There was no one for miles. She came harder than she ever had. For him.
Rigsby was nearly knocked flat. First, as Grace ripped and dragged and burned her way through him as she rode out her orgasm, second as his own body blew up inside of her and caused a chain reaction in his entire nervous system. His scream quickly overrode hers as he bellowed her name in hot, exquisite agony. He felt his semen shoot out like canon fire. The recoil alone almost threw him clear. Meanwhile, a lit fuse had reached his brain and blew it straight into the stratosphere. It took him ages to come back down. And when he did, he could only hold one thought.
Holy Christ, was that good.
The echoes of their screams died away as they panted harshly. Grace lay spent and boneless in front of him, her arms barely able to keep her steady. Not sure he could even trust his own legs, he took her hands and levered her up to sit in his lap, their bodies still locked together.
Just amazing.
Plus, there was whole cathartic experience of fucking his one true love on top of the only thing his father had ever cared for that left him feeling lightheaded and dizzy with satisfaction.
It all made for a sexual experience that nearly took his head off.
"Wow," she whispered breathlessly.
"Yeah," he agreed, wrapping his arms around her waist to keep her up. "Wow."
"Wayne, I just…I mean…wow," She was having trouble making coherent sentences.
He chuckled throatily and nuzzled her nose with his. "Wow just about covers it," he agreed.
"Not even close. I don't think they've invented a word for what that was." She snuggled in close, the beautiful sheen of sweat covering her breasts quickly transferred to his t-shirt. As she held him tight, she giggled softly. "So. Does this mean you don't hate bikes anymore?"
"Oh, babe," he whispered softly in her hair. "Mission accomplished. I'll definitely lose it every time I see one from this day on."
"Excellent," she sighed contentedly. "Now, I think we have just enough time for me to get dressed and for us to get back on the road in time for dinner."
He caressed her back and nodded. "Sounds good."
She extracted herself as gracefully as she could and started pulling on clothes as she found them. "Oh, and Wayne? We're definitely stealing that bike."
