Draven
Wick is a famous actor in a supernatural drama. Back to Daytona for
the first time in 10 years, he's startled to see someone he
recognizes
Startled
by the noise, the girl lost her balance as she rolled out of the
shoulder stand. Toppling, she fell. Draven leaped toward her,
covering the ten feet to the cycles, in a superhuman rush. He
steadied her, helping her sit up slowly. Getting a good look at her
face, he felt a spark of recognition.
"Jamie
Humphrey?" He touched her cheek, brushing her hair from the
corner of her full, red lips.
"Draven
Wick? Oh my God! Is it really you?" She clung to him, hugging
him tightly. "How many years has it been? Ten?"
"About
that. God, you look fantastic!"
Clasping
his face, she gazed into his golden hazel eyes. "Thank you for
catching me."
"You're
welcome. Are you okay?"
"I'm
fine. Thanks."
Others
had gathered around, watching the scene unfold. When it became
apparent that the woman wasn't hurt, the men at the desk went back to
selling tickets.
"That's
not really your dad," Draven murmured.
"Of
course not. He just says that so that men will leave me alone."
"How
about fair time for the women?" a heavyset woman called from the
line. "Let's see the hunk take his shirt off!" She whooped.
Women
all over the parking lot cheered and whistled. Draven cast a saucy
look at Jamie. The music had changed once more, pounding out Closer
by Nine Inch Nails—the unedited version, he noted with a grin.
Grabbing the bottom of his shirt, he raised it with agonizing
slowness as his hips gyrated to the sexy music. Jamie played it up,
running her hands under the shirt, rubbing his abs and tugging on the
cloth with her teeth.
More
cameras snapped and the women yelled loudly, screaming at him to take
it all off. As he did a lecherous bump and grind, Draven strutted
around the bike. Between the two cycles, he twirled his shirt, then
straddled it. Riding it like a hot woman, he continued to dance.
Jamie
moved behind him, and ran her hands up and down his tight abs and
hard thighs. Spinning to face her, Draven roped Jamie with his shirt,
pulling her close to dirty dance with him. The song ended and he spun
her under his arm, dropping her into a low dip, her back arched,
breasts high. Red hair tickled the pavement as he raised her with one
arm. Faces mere inches apart, they tried to catch their breath. It
took some time before they realized that the line was now three times
what it had been. Women ringed around them, waving money at Draven.
"You
grew up nice, Wick," Jamie said, taking a step back. Her hand
drifted down his chest to the top of his jeans. Eyes wide with
delight, she dangled her fingers by his zipper. With tantalizing
deliberateness, she touched the fabric that strained across his
throbbing member.
"You
keep that up, I can't be held responsible…" he whispered.
"You
keep that up, I can't be, either," she replied.
"I
really wanna kiss you, Jamie."
"On
the bike," she suggested. "I get paid a percentage of what
they bring in."
Laughing,
he picked her up and put her on the motorcycle, facing the rear,
straddling the engine. Draven took his time swinging one long,
muscular, jean-clad leg over the seat. Scooting him forward with her
feet, Jamie wrapped her legs around his waist. Laying her back,
Draven teased and coaxed her mouth, his tongue tickling her lips.
With a decisive lunge, he raised his body, grasped the handlebars and
kissed her. Until that moment, Jamie had thought his antics were all
for show. A consummate performer, he knew how to work a crowd. But
that kiss wasn't pretending, and the rock hard bad boy in his pants
wasn't a prop.
He
didn't linger over the kiss. His timing was, as always, superb.
Leaning back, Draven swung his leg off the cycle, standing in one
fluid motion as he held out his hand to her. The crowd went wild. The
men at the table had to scramble to accommodate the line, bringing in
extra help.
Draven
stood near Jamie, hoping to kiss her again. Instead, everyone wanted
pictures with them and the bikes. Most of them gave tips, some wanted
autographs. They all wanted them to kiss. Draven worked the crowd,
giving them just enough to keep them asking for more.
"Do
you think any of them recognize you?" Jamie asked, her smile
toothy and wide.
"Doubt
it. I'm out of context."
"Won't
they shit when they figure it out?"
He
chuckled, kissing her cheek by request. "Right in their pants.
You smell amazing," he said, nuzzling her neck all on his own.
A
dozen cameras clicked.
"I've
missed you, Jamie."
Shivering,
she held his face as directed, giving him a kiss. "Me, too."
"Seeing
anyone?"
"Not
really."
They
straddled the bike again, with her in front, holding the handlebars.
His long, sinewy thighs clenched against hers from behind.
"Is
that a yes or no? I don't speak Biker Babe anymore."
"No
one steady."
"Does
he think that?"
Jamie
blushed, turning her head to look at him. "Why all the
questions, Wick? Got some burning desire to know all my secrets?"
Draven
nibbled her neck, cheating the angle a little, so he was still camera
ready. "I've got a burning desire, Humphrey, but it isn't about
your secrets."
©
2019 Dellani Oakes
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