Driven to the Limit

Driven to the Limit
Alice Gaines

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Copyright ©2007 Alice Gaines

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ISBN: 978-1-59596-710-7
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Editor: Crystal Esau
Cover Artist: Reneé George

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Driven to the Limit

Alice Gaines

After rehab, Lauren King returns
to the only home she has… a rock star’s compound everyone calls The Pit. She
also returns to her only friend… an antique German motorcycle she’s nicknamed
Jake. Little does she know that the cycles Klaus Mannhof made have the ability
to shift into human men. Mannhof designed Jake especially for Lauren. Using his
special brand of magic, Jake’s going to teach her to love him and to love
herself as well.

Chapter One

After rehab, Lauren King went right back into The Pit.

Kid Dagger’s ranch and recording compound had a huge main
house, three guest cottages, a recording studio, tennis courts, a
state-of-the-art gym, and an Olympic-sized swimming pool. But everyone who
worked there called it The Pit. The nickname fit Dagger’s personality, which on
a good day bordered on psychotic. Bad days didn’t bear thinking about.

Still, Lauren had called the place home for over ten years.
Her job was here. Frankly, she had nowhere else to go.

As soon as she dropped her suitcase in her room, she went out
to her only safe place -- the small garage behind the larger one where Dagger
kept his collectible cars.

She flicked on the light and looked at the closest thing she
had for a friend -- the antique German motorcycle. The Mannhof. “Hi, Jake.”

The bike never answered, of course. Still, she felt a link
to it. The Mannhof resisted all of Dagger’s attempts to control it, something
she’d never managed.

She walked to the bike and ran a hand over the leather seat.
“What’s a nice machine like you doing in a place like this?”

“You decided to come back.”

Dagger’s voice. She turned and found him standing the
doorway. “Did I have any choice?”

“We all have choices.” He dangled a baggie with a quarter of
an inch of white powder in it. “Want some?”

She stared at him. Only Dagger would offer cocaine to
someone just back from rehab. “I gave up poison for Lent.”

Anger flashed in his small, brown eyes for a minute, and
then he gave her one of his phony smiles. “Okay, then, how about a quick fuck?”

“Like I said. I gave up poison for Lent.”

“Your loss.” He crossed his arms over his bare chest and
leaned against the doorframe. Without the elaborate stage make-up and the
costume that gave him a huge crotch bulge, Dagger, whose real name was Craig,
looked like everyone’s little brother’s creepy friend. The one who kept trying
to set puppies’ tails on fire. Somehow, millions of girls found him sexy.
Lauren had once, but then she’d gotten to know him. She’d also seen him flipped
out on various substances. Someday, he’d hurt someone -- badly.

He stared at her for a minute, as if expecting her to change
her mind and jump his bones. Finally, he pushed away from the wall. “Get back
to work. Media bookings went to hell while you were gone.”

She sighed. “In a few minutes.”

“You going to stay out here with that hunk of junk?”

“It’s one of the finest motorcycles ever built. You paid
half-a-mil for it.”

“It doesn’t run.”

True, the Mannhof had refused to start ever since the
auction house had delivered it. No mechanic had ever managed to fix it, either.
Hopelessly broken, just like herself. No wonder they’d become friends.

“Junk.” Dagger waved a hand at the bike. “Someday, I’m going
to melt it down into a paperweight.”

“Have I told you lately that you suck?”

“Yeah, fuck you too.” He turned and left the garage.

She looked down at the bike, her friend, Jake. “Don’t worry.
As long as I’m around, no one’s going to turn you into a paperweight.”

She walked to the door, switched off the light, and turned
to go into the house.

Why do you put up with him?

Huh? “Who said that?”

She flipped the switch again and looked around. The room was
empty except for herself and the bike. Come to think of it, the words had
formed in her brain rather than coming in through her ears.

I’m glad you’re home
, Schatzie.
I missed you
.

Her eyes widened as she stared at the Mannhof. “Did you say
that?”

The air shifted around the bike, seeming to turn liquid.
Currents shimmered around the tires, the gas tank, the handlebars. She rubbed
her eyes, but the image didn’t get any clearer.

Holy shit. Was this some kind of withdrawal-induced
hallucination? She hadn’t even done that in rehab. Rough nights, yes. Air you
could swim through, no.

She backed up until her rump hit the wall and stood there on
weakening knees. In the middle of the room, a light radiated from the Mannhof,
making the bike’s image even harder to see. She squinted, staring into the
waves of light and air around Jake. Something was happening in there. Some kind
of changes taking place. The tires seemed to melt and change color from rubber
to a pale tone that looked for all the world like human flesh.

Oh, no. Too weird. Too fucking weird. Some kind of
Invasion
of the Body Snatchers
in reverse. After all she’d gone through, her mind
had snapped. The counselors should have warned her.

Now useless, her legs gave way, and she slid down the wall
until she sat on her butt, hugging herself.

The changes in the middle of the room continued. The form
shrunk, curling into a ball of what looked like human flesh. A person. A man, lying
on the floor in a fetal position without a stitch of clothing on his body. The
glow disappeared, and the air went clear again, leaving only the man --
powerful legs pulled up against his body with the ankles crossed. An
adult-sized human baby.

A voice whimpered in fear. Her own voice. Her heart hammered
in her chest, and her throat constricted. If she could get any strength in her
legs, she could get up and run like hell. Still, as spooky as the whole
experience was, it was pretty cool in a Hollywood, special effects way.

The person moved finally, sitting up. Buck naked, the man
had pale skin and platinum hair that hung around his face to the jaw line. His
eyes opened, revealing irises so crystal blue they almost seemed transparent.
He smiled, his face taking on an innocent look of delight, like a baby who’d
just learned to smile. He took a deep breath, or rather, the air around him
went into his chest in a whoosh. Then, he opened his mouth and a sound came out
-- the deep roar of a motorcycle engine revving.

The sound plastered her against the wall, stealing her own
breath. She sat there paralyzed for a moment, staring at him. He made no move
toward her but gave her the most beautiful smile she’d ever seen on a man’s
face.

“Holy shit,” she whispered. “Who are you?”

“
Meine Namen
…” His voice came out as a croak, so
different from the roar he’d just made. He shook his head, cleared his throat,
and opened his mouth again. “My name is Jakob.”

Jakob? As in Jake? She’d named the bike Jake the day it
arrived. Calling it that had come to her out of the blue, as if she’d already
known it fit. As if she’d had a special connection to the magnificent machine.
Could the feeling have been real? Every scrap of her rational mind told her he
couldn’t be the Mannhof, and yet, what else
could
he be?

He got to his feet a bit unsteadily. At first, he swayed
toward her, and she put out her arms as if to catch him. After a second he
found his balance and stood in the center of the room.

“So, this is a body.” He ran his hands over his face and
then down his neck and over his chest. She could almost feel the skin and sleek
muscles under the tips of her own fingers as his touch moved along his sides
and over his hips.

“It’s strong in its own way. Not as powerful as my engine,
but flexible.” He stretched his arms out to the sides. “Such freedom of
movement. Unbelievable.”

“Are you telling me… seriously… that you’re the Mannhof?”

He cocked his head and stared at her as if he didn’t
understand her words. “Who else would I be?”

“A motorcycle isn’t a who. It’s a what.”

“Semantics. Unworthy of you,
Schatzie
.”

“Semantics, hell. What the fuck are you?”

“You watched me change.”

“I watched…” She made an aimless gesture toward where he
stood. “I watched a motorcycle disappear -- an insanely expensive motorcycle, I
might add.”

“And what came in its place?”

“Well, you.” Whatever “you” was. It was male, all right, and
it sure as hell looked human. From the shock of startling blond hair on his
head, over a face marked by angles and curved lips, to broad shoulders, tight
pecs, and -- holy shit -- a huge erection standing straight out from his torso.
Her gaze fixed on that cock as her throat went dry. No motorcycle she’d ever
seen had an accessory like
that
.

“This is the most wonderful of all.” He closed a hand around
his member and let his eyes drift shut in pleasure. “Ah, yes. I felt something
like this but didn’t understand.”

“I don’t understand it at all.”

“Every time you came into the room, I had a powerful
reaction.”

“Motorcycles get hard-ons?”

He put his hands on his hips. “Why must you make this
vulgar?”

“Sorry. Force of habit.” Vulgar or not, the whole situation
was so bizarre it almost demanded jokes. She was sitting on the floor of a
garage staring at the place where a motorcycle had just stood. Only, now the
space held what looked like a drool-worthy human male with equipment a porn
star would envy.

“I sensed a need in you that reached out to my own nature,”
he said. “To the reason I’d been created.”

She rubbed her eyes. “Great. A psychobabbling machine.”

He scowled at her. “I’m more than a machine, and you know
it.”

“You were a motorcycle until I watched you turn into a man.”
She sighed. “I don’t know what I know anymore.”

He stared into her eyes. “And if you think talking about
yourself is babbling, you didn’t learn much in that place.”

He might have her there. She hadn’t learned anything in
rehab that would prepare her for this. “All right, then. For what were you
created?”

“I was created for you.”

“Sexually?”

He smiled. “For sex and many other things.”

“So, you’re telling me I can make a machine horny.”

“My machine body isn’t an ordinary motorcycle.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “That’s putting it
mildly.”

One platinum eyebrow went up. “You had a sensual connection
to me too. Don’t try to deny it.”

How could she deny it? Anyone -- male or female -- would
find a sleek machine like a Mannhof sexy. Most women would love to have that
kind of power between their legs. Most wouldn’t climb onto the bike naked. If
Jake had truly sensed her presence in his machine form, he’d remember that
night. She’d been high on Dagger’s pleasure powder, of course, but she couldn’t
use that as an excuse. As much as the cocaine had turned her on, at least she’d
had the good sense not to work off her horniness with Dagger or one of the guys
in his band. She’d come out to Jake. If she could have gotten the engine going,
she would have had a wild ride without leaving the garage. In the end, she’d
taken care of things herself in the privacy of her room. Now it appeared one
other person knew about that night. If you could call the motorcycle involved a
person.

Across the room, the person stood watching her. Could he
tell what was going through her mind right now? “Maybe you’d better tell me
what you remember from the time we spent together and how a machine could have
been aware of me,” she said.

“I remember a lot of things. How is more complicated to
explain.”

“Try.”

“I could sense but not really feel.” He shrugged. “Or,
perhaps feel, but not completely.”

“And you felt lust for me?”

“Desire. There’s a difference.” He held out his hands,
opening and closing the fingers. “Then, I could sense things, such as valves
opening and closing. Now, I feel movement. Do you see the difference?”

Somewhere hidden in that question lay a note of reality.
Subtle and yet strong. It struck a cord inside her, a truth just out of reach
but part of her, nevertheless.

“Lust is sensing and desire is feeling?” she said.

“A manifold takes in air. A lung breathes. An engine runs
low on fuel. A man grows hungry.”

“And you’ve sensed things both ways?”

He smiled again. “You do understand.”

“You really are the Mannhof,” she whispered.

“Do you doubt your own senses?”

“Not my senses. My sanity.”

“You’re not insane,
Schatzie
.”

“I’m sitting her on the concrete floor of a garage listening
to a stranger tell me he was an antique German bike a minute ago. And now he
tells me he had the hots for me when he was a machine. That doesn’t sound a
little crazy to you?”

He laughed, a deep, warm rumble that would have done his
cycle persona proud. “From someone else, perhaps.”

“But not me.”

“You see, you
are
talking to a man who was a
motorcycle and has wanted you since he first saw you.”

Okay, none of this made any sense. It wasn’t possible for a
machine to want a human being. But then, neither was it possible for a machine
to turn into a man, and she’d just watched that happen. She hadn’t lost touch
with reality while she worked the drugs out of her system in rehab, and she
hadn’t taken anything since. Maybe she ought to relax and enjoy this latest
twist to her life. In the pleasure and joy department, it beat anything she’d
had since she’d come to work at this hellhole. If she’d gotten high on her own
brain chemicals, she might as well enjoy them until the men in the white coats
came for her.

“I see you finally believe me,” Jake said.

“Sure. Why not?” She checked out his cock again. Oh, yeah.
She could definitely have fun with this delusion. “Only, how could you be
possible? And why did you pick me?”

“Enough explanations for right now. Instead, let’s ride.”

“Ride?”

Before the word had gotten half out of her mouth, the air
started shifting again. As before, it pulsed around Jake, and the light clung
to his skin. Things went faster this time, and she got up so she could approach
and watch the transformation from closer range.