Against the Ropes (13 page)

“You are so damn hot.” He cups my breasts, one in each palm and rubs his thumbs over my nipples, drawing them into tight peaks. His tongue plunges in and out of my mouth—a teasing promise of what better damn well be coming soon.

Max slips his fingers under the spaghetti straps of my tank top and peels it down. The built-in bra means I am instantly bared for his viewing pleasure. He stares but doesn’t move.

“Max?”

“So beautiful.” He bends down and draws my right nipple into his mouth sucking and nibbling until I am clinging to him for dear life and panting like I’ve just run a marathon.

Too much. Too many sensations. His mouth on my breasts. His thumb circling my nipples. The soft brush of his hair over my chest. The beauty of the night sky and the breathtaking view of San Francisco spread below us like a blanket of stars.

“Ahhhh.” I lean backward, arching uncomfortably over the gas tank, and away from too much sensation. My hair falls down along the fairing, my breasts thrust upward and my peaked nipples reach up for the stars. Max’s hands freeze mid-caress.

“Christ. You are beyond tempting. If you don’t get up now, I won’t be able to stop.”

“I’m not getting up.”

“Then I’m not stopping, baby.” He leans over, plants tiny kisses down my stomach, and teases my naval with his tongue. Heat pours off my body. His teeth nip my belly, and then his mouth dips lower.

My body tightens as need ratchets through me. Max slides one finger inside the waistband of the leather trousers he insisted I wear along with the leather jacket to stay safe on the ride. I wiggle to give him more room. The world shifts and tilts upside down.

“Whoa there.” Max grabs my arm and saves me from a humiliating, half-naked gravel nose dive.

My cheeks flame. “I’m afraid I haven’t kept up my making-out-on-a-motorcycle skills.”

Max studies me, his eyes thoughtful. “I have an idea.”

Five minutes later I am back in position, but now the rear wheel is secured with some kind of collapsible swing arm stand and Max is standing beside the motorcycle with a coil of rope in his hand.

“Are you going to pull a rabbit out of that pack next?” I ask as he tugs my tank top over my head.

“You like rabbits?” he murmurs.

Do I ever. But not the fuzzy kind. Not that I would ever let him know.

I am too hot to be cold, but when he eases me back over the gas tank, I hiss in a breath at the sensation of cool metal kissing my skin. His hands slide to my hips, and he positions me with my bottom on the seat in a semi-reclined position, then he kisses me long and hard.

“Do you trust me to keep you safe?” he whispers.

“I trust you.”

His eyes flash with sensual promise. “Will you do exactly as I say, baby? If you don’t, you might slip off. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I’ll try.”

He lifts my arms over my head and slips the rope around one of my wrists, fastening it to the handlebars. Then he does the same with the other. I tug. The handlebars twist. My forehead creases. Hmm. Hands tied out to the sides. Seems kinda kinky. Never done kinky before. “I don’t know about this,” I say. “If I fall off, the motorcycle will fall on top of me.”

“I won’t let you get hurt.” Max rakes his eyes over my body. “Think of a word that tells me you want to stop what we’re doing. Something to tell me we’ve gone too far. A word that means something to you.”

“Why not just ‘stop’?”

He presses a kiss to my belly. “Sometimes in the heat of the moment ‘stop’ means ‘go.’”

I suck in my lips and look around. What means something to me out here in the darkness? Not much. Maybe I should choose a word that means something to Max. Then he’ll pay attention.

“Agusta.”

Max smiles. “Your safe word is Agusta. Don’t forget it.”

A warm breeze caresses my cheek, blowing my hair. I try to brush it away, but when I jerk my arms they only move an inch before the rope tightens. Reality hits me hard. I am tied to his motorcycle. My heart pounds at double speed.

“Don’t move. Stay still for me.”

I swallow past the lump in my throat. “I…don’t think I like this.”

Max leans down and takes my breast in his mouth, teasing my nipple with his teeth. Lust rips through my body and I shiver in the cool night air.

“Do you like this?” He nuzzles my other breast, flicking his tongue over my nipple until it becomes painfully hard and sensual lightning bolts shoot straight to my core.

“Yessss.”

He strokes his hand down my stomach to the waistband of my leather pants, and flicks open the snap. Inch by agonizing inch he tugs the pants and my skirt over my hips. Un-sexy leg contortions follow, and within a minute I am wearing only a brand new pair of shiny emerald panties that match my eyes. The familiar tingle of adrenaline courses though my veins. Something pokes into my back.

His eyes rake over my body and he groans. “You are even more breathtaking than I imagined.”

He imagined me naked. My discomfort gives way to my delight at being the subject of Max’s fantasies.

His lips slide down over my abdomen and then along the top edge of my panties.

I moan my approval and try to encourage him to keep going by tilting my hips up toward his hot, wet kisses.

“I told you not to move.” His smooth voice takes on a sharp edge. “There is a price to pay for not following the rules.”

Hmmm. I like the sound of that. I hope the price involves removing my panties.

Max walks to the front where I can’t see him. “Five minutes,” he calls over his shoulder. Gravel crunches, fading into the distance, until I can hear nothing but the wind in the trees.

“Max?” I tilt my head backward trying to see but the windshield is in the way. “Where are you?”

My pulse speeds up as my lust-sodden brain struggles to process what is happening. Is this what he means by paying a price? Leaving me tied to his motorcycle in the dark? Is he joking?

“Max?”

Silence.

“Am I supposed to be turned on by this? If so, I’m not really feeling the heat. I’m actually feeling the cold. You might remember I’m not wearing very much. Also, your motorcycle isn’t very comfortable in this position. It’s quite hard and something is sticking into my back. I think it’s the gas tank.”

He can’t have gone far. He wouldn’t leave his precious Agusta. But would he leave me? My lungs tighten at the thought.

“Did I mention my stepfather is the chief of police in Oakland? Not that I’m threatening you, but if someone were to find me like this and I dropped your name, he might not be too happy. Ever been in jail, Max? I hear it’s less comfortable than being tied naked to a motorcycle on Twin Peaks.”

A frisson of fear, cold and low, slithers up my spine. What if he has a car nearby? What if someone was waiting to take him away? What if this is all some elaborate sex game he plays with women? What if he teases them and kisses them and leaves them to be found in the morning?

Oh, his kisses. Such delicious kisses. Kisses on my lips. Kisses on my throat. Kisses on my breasts. Kisses on my panties. Everything below my waist tightens and suddenly my senses heighten. The hard metal gas tank presses into my back, a contrast to the soft leather of the saddle under my bottom. Traffic hums in the distance, and I catch the odd flutter of wings overhead. Stars twinkle in the night sky, bright pinpricks in a sheet of black velvet. The air is fragrant with pine and salt and the sharp scent of gasoline. Max’s taste is on my tongue. My pulse beats steadily between my thighs.

Seriously? I’m tied to a motorcycle in the dark, and I am so aroused I want to scream? What the hell is wrong with me? Maybe I
should
scream. As I draw in a huge breath, Max’s mouth covers my own in a brain-searing kiss. The scream dies in my throat. Why didn’t I hear him coming?

“Time is up. You did well, baby.”

“You left me on purpose?”

“You didn’t follow the rules.”

Red sheets my vision. My hands clench into fists above my head, and my arousal fades away like a dream in the morning light. All manner of swear words pop into my head—the usual ones children learn at school, a few others I picked up in books, and some really filthy language I can’t believe I would contemplate letting fall from my lips. I toss them around in my brain and discard them all. I won’t let him do that to me. I will not be reduced to swearing.

“Untie me. Now.”

Max tugs on the ropes and they slither off my wrists. He reaches out to help me up, and I slap his hand away. “Don’t you dare touch me.”

After I ungracefully dismount the motorcycle, I stomp over to the wall toward my jacket with as much dignity as I can muster wearing only wet green panties. I. Am. So. Out. Of. Here.

Before I can tug the jacket on, Max is behind me. He slips one arm around my waist and pulls me into his body. Skin to skin. He must have removed his jacket and shirt when I was terrified and alone. How presumptuous.

“You were so sexy lying across my bike,” he murmurs in my ear. “Do you know what I wanted to do to you? Do you know where I wanted my hands, my lips, my—”

“Stop. I don’t want to hear it.” I spin around to face him. “You scared me. That wasn’t fun.”

He studies my eyes so intensely I look away to the sweep of lights in the city below.

“Tell me the truth.” His deep voice, though soft, is filled with demand.

“I am telling you the truth. You scared me. I’m so angry right now, I’m thinking about slapping you.”

His expression becomes carnal, predatory. He presses me backward against the retaining wall. The cold, rough stone scrapes against my skin. He cages me with his body and locks his eyes with mine.

“Slap me.”

“No.”

“You just said you wanted to slap me.”

My body trembles when he leans over me. “I said I was thinking about it.”

His eyes soften. “What else are you thinking, little fighter?” He cups my head with his hand and strokes his thumb over my cheek.

“I’m thinking you have a terrible seduction technique,” I grumble. “You started off well—motorcycle ride, Twin Peaks, picnic under the stars—but you lost me when you decided to play cowboy and rope yourself a filly.”

Max chuckles. “Did I lose you, or did I arouse you? Are you angry because you were scared or because it turned you on and you don’t like that it did?”

“That’s ridiculous.” I shift my weight from foot to foot. “Who would get turned on by being tied to a motorcycle and left alone in the dark?”

“You.” His hand slides down my stomach and over my mound to cup my damp heat. I suck in a sharp breath, but moving away is not an option. My betraying hips tilt toward him, asking for more.

He strokes his finger along the edge of my panties and then shoves them aside. I press my hands against his chest, intending to push him away, but my hands also aren’t following the program. Instead, they slide up his chest and circle his neck, pulling me closer to the heat of his body. Max’s finger slides along my folds and then it dips inside. My eyes slit closed and a shudder ripples through me.

“You’re so wet, baby,” he groans. He trails my wetness down my inner thigh. “Your body knows what it wants. You just need to free your mind.”

I bite my lip and turn my head away. He’s wrong. He has to be wrong. I’m not into kinky stuff. Not that I’ve ever had a chance to find out. My three sedate, ultraconservative boyfriends never tried anything except the missionary position.

“My body and my mind agree that I want to leave.”

A smile ghosts Max’s lips. “One kiss and we’ll go. You have my word.”

Desire whispers through my veins with promises of pleasure. I clench my teeth and fight it back. Bad Desire. Go away. “Fine. One kiss.”

Max’s eyes darken. He slides one hand around my waist and pulls me tight against his chest. Sparks shoot straight down my spine, and a warm, liquid sensation ripples through my body.

His breath whispers over my cheek, and I press my lips together. He is going to get a chaste kiss. A disapproving kiss. A kiss that says I like to kiss, but I don’t play those games.

“Open for me, baby.” His words send a surge of moisture between my legs. He glides his thumb over my bottom lip and presses down. I succumb instantly, like a kid in a candy store. I part my lips and allow his thumb to dip inside, and then greedily suck it like a lollipop.

“Good girl.”

His words send goose bumps dancing along my skin. Soft words. Approving words. Condescending words. I can’t muster the energy to reprimand him while his thumb is sliding in and out of my mouth making me think of other things. Naughty things.

He curls his fingers around my neck and tilts my head back, his thumb now caressing my cheek. I can’t look away. My entire being is focused on him. He leans down and covers my mouth with his, sending quivers of excitement rippling through me. His tongue glides along my lips and then dives inside, thrusting deep and filling my mouth. My brain fuzzes at the startling sensation, but he gives me no chance to recover. His fingers tighten on my neck and he draws me closer, kissing me until I can barely breathe.

Oh God, I want him. Bad. I tighten my grip on his neck and mold my body to his.

And then he pulls away.

“No.” My voice rises almost to a whine.

Max’s eyes glitter fever bright, and his chest rises and falls so quickly I worry for a second he might hyperventilate. “I gave you my word. One kiss and we would go.”

“I don’t want to go.”

“Then tell me the truth,” he rasps. “Admit it made you hot. It made you wet. You are coiled so tight I could slide my hand down your panties and make you come before you could tell me to stop.”

Sexy words. Dirty words. Cocky words. They burst the dam holding back my desire. With a low groan I lean up and press my lips against his. “Yes,” I whisper.

Max gives a self-satisfied grunt. He slips his hand down my panties, pressing the heel of his palm against my sensitive spot. His fingers slide through my folds, and then dip inside.

Oh. My. God. My breathing stops and fire shoots through me. I whimper and rock myself against him, needing more.

“I’ve got you, baby.” His breath is warm and moist in my ear. “I know what you need.”