Page 112 of The Auction
My gaze drags down the length of her, lingering on that dress, the way it clings to every curve. “Come on.”
I scoop her up bridal style, and she makes a soft sound that shoots straight to my cock. Setting her gently on the back of my bike, I hold out my hand. “Give me your heels.”
She blinks at me but slips them off. I shove them into my backpack, sling the strap over her shoulders, and pull my helmet on her head, clipping it under her chin.
“What about you?” she asks, voice muffled under the visor.
“I’ll be fine.” I say quickly, tucking the tag on my bike out of view.
Her dress rides up as she adjusts, and fuck—her creamy thighs and black lace panties are like a goddamn invitation.
I climb onto the bike in front of her, and she slides up close, her chest pressing against my back. Her hands lock around my waist.
“Hold on, baby,” I tell her, starting the engine. The bike rumbles to life under us, vibrating through both our bodies.
And then we’re gone.
It doesn’t even take five minutes before I see flashing red and blue in my mirrors.
Perfect. Just what I fucking need.
I’m in no mood to sit through a lecture or a ticket for not wearing a helmet, not tonight.
I glance back over my shoulder at the cop car gaining on us. “You trust me?” I holler over the roar of the engine.
Cassidy doesn’t hesitate. She shifts even closer, her chest flush to my back, her arms locking tighter around me.
“I’m ready,” she says, and the firmness in her voice hits me low in the gut.
That’s my girl.
I face forward again, and everything sharpens. Every turn, every lane shift, every set of brake lights ahead—mapped in my head before we even reach them.
I gun it.
The bike surges forward, the engine snarling under us as I thread between two cars with inches to spare. The wind roars in my ears, and Cassidy lets out a breathless laugh that’s half thrill, half disbelief.
A second set of flashing lights appears in the side mirror—a second patrol car joining in.
“Hang on,” I call back, and I feel her grip tighten.
We weave hard left, shooting down a narrow side street. I dodge a parked delivery truck by leaning the bike just enough to skim past its mirror. A horn blares. The cops are still with us, but we’ve got distance.
Cassidy laughs again, louder this time. She’s having the time of her life. I can feel it in the way she clings to me—not scared, not tense—just… alive.
I shake my head, chuckling despite myself. This is ridiculous. Absolutely insane. And somehow, it’s perfect.
Another sharp right. I know exactly where I’m going.
I cut down an alley I’ve used before, braking hard at the end and angling us between two massive dumpsters. The stench hits instantly, but it’s worth it. I kill the engine, and the bike goes still.
Cassidy’s breathing fast against my back. My hand goes to her thigh like gravity drew me to her. I rub my palms up her leg feeling how smooth and soft she is.
The cop cars scream past the mouth of the alley, lights blazing, sirens wailing.
I give it another ten seconds before I turn the key again. The engine rumbles to life, low and steady. I back us out of our hiding spot and head the opposite way, slow at first, then faster as the city opens back up in front of us.
Every time I open up the throttle, she presses closer, her thighs hugging mine, her nails digging lightly into my stomach.My head’s full of her—her laugh, her scent, the way her dress rode up when I put her on this bike.
