Ride

Abby quickly changed into a pair of comfortable pants and grabbed a jacket before rejoining Remo in the living room. He was waiting there, looking just as handsome and charming as ever, and she couldn't help but feel a flutter of excitement in her chest.

"Ready," she announced, giving him a playful grin.

Remo nodded in approval, his eyes appreciating her choice of attire. "Perfect," he said, offering her his arm. "Shall we?"

Abby looped her arm through his, their fingers naturally entwining, and they made their way to the door. The crisp evening air greeted them as they stepped outside.

Abby's eyes widened as she spotted the sleek sports motorcycle parked in front of the house. It was a striking machine, a black beauty with bold red stripes running down its sides. The bike looked fast and powerful, with shiny chrome details catching the light.

"W-we are riding on that?" She asked,

she had the uncomfortable feeling that being pressed up against that muscular back for the ride into town might stir feelings she didn't want stirred.

Quite why she was more sexually aware of him than she had ever been of any other man didn't bear thinking about.

"Why don't tell me you're afraid?"

"That we are going to die on that—thing? Absolutely!"

Remo rolled his eyes, a smirk playing on his lips, "Do you trust me?"

Abby bit her lips, "This isn't about trusting you Remo. It's its—-my bad luck—I'm afraid—"

"Don't worry freckles, I have a lot of good luck charm enough for both of us." He said, giving her a lopsided grin.

They stop just in front of the motorcycle as she eyed it with caution, and Remo grabbed one of the two helmets on it; handing it to her "Don't look so worried love, you never know - You might enjoy it"

"Doubt it" she muttered under her breath, but Remo just gave her a cheeky look

She struggled for a moment, trying to put on her helmet, before he gently took it from her hands.

He made a circular motion with his finger. "Turn around," he instructed.

She complied, grabbing her hair as he deftly removed the band holding it in a ponytail. "W-What are you doing?" she asked as his fingers combed through her hair.

He placed his hands on her shoulders and turned her to face him. "It'll be more comfortable like that with the helmet on," he explained with a charming smile.

She flushed, her heart racing as he placed the helmet on her head and fastened the strap. The light touch of his fingers sent a shiver down her spine. This was going to be a challenging experience.

She hadn't even gotten on the bike yet, and she already felt like she was about to burst.

Taking his own helmet from the handlebar, he put it on and then climbed onto the large machine. "Hop on,freckles," he called to her.

It took her a few tries before she managed to get on behind him. She had to press her feet firmly on the footrests and hold onto the back of the seat to keep from sliding against him. She was thankful for wearing jeans. They were more comfortable.

"I'm ready," she said, feeling somewhat self-conscious.

..Why did she agree to this?

This was such a bad idea.

Instead of starting the engine, he removed his helmet, turned around, and asked, "You ever ridden a motorcycle before, freckles?"

She hesitated, not wanting to admit her lack of experience. "Well—no, not exactly," she admitted reluctantly, noting the smug look in his eyes.

He leaned in closer, his voice low and confident. "First rule, hold on tight."

She glanced at her knuckles, which were aching from gripping the seat so hard. "I-I am holding on tight," she protested.

He shook his head with a knowing smile. "Not onto the bike, sweetheart—onto me."

"Why can't I just hold onto the bike?" She tried to maintain her composure, but her voice betrayed her fear. She was definitely going to die.

"Because when we hit a curve, you're going to have to lean with me," he explained, his lips quirking. "Wouldn't want you falling off."

"O-okay. I'll hold onto you."

He grinned, and then he put his helmet back on. To her shock, he reached behind her, placed two large hands on her thighs, and pulled her toward him. In an instant, she found herself snugly pressed against him, her legs spread to accommodate his denim-clad figure.

"Now, put your arms around my waist," he instructed.

She complied, feeling the heat start to raise onto her cheeks, wrapping her arms around him.

She tried to ignore the feel of his hard, flat stomach beneath her palms. His back felt firm and warm against the thin silk of her top. He pushed back to start the bike's engine.

The powerful vibrations of the machine rumbled through her thighs, making her acutely aware of every point where their bodies touched. It was both embarrassing and unnerving, and she felt a throbbing sensation deep within her core.

This was going to be a long ride.