Serenity

(This can be read standalone but I hope you will read Serenity first, it provides a lot of context and character development although not much spice. Don't worry, this part ends with some erotica. It's a mildly female dominant story so if you are looking for an alpha biker type guy this isn't the story for you.)

I pull up to the front of the closed shop a few minutes before 7, I lean against my car door as I have a smoke and wait. This is the industrial section of the city and I don't pay much attention to the assorted vehicle sounds until one high pitched engine gets closer. A black and red sport bike appears down the street and I know who it is before the bike stops next to me. I should have known that would be his ride.

He swings off his motorcycle and as he is removing his gloves I step around to look at his ride. It's sleek, matte black with touches of deep glossy red and it's big. I recognize it instantly, an MH3.

I remember my uncle talking about bikers and what to look for to gauge their skill. Lewis's pegs are clean but well used, no scuffs on the edges. I can't see any cracks or repairs in the paint and all the pieces match so it looks like he hasn't dropped it. It isn't spotless clean and I notice two mounts for cameras, one behind and one front. His seat has distinct butt marks so he rides it a lot. I touch the virtually brand new pillion seat and look up at him as he's taking off his helmet. His hair is in utter disarray and I smile as he runs his hands through it.

He shrugs, 'Small price to pay to ride this guy.' I lean forward over the bike and his lips press lightly to mine.

'You look great, helmet hair suits you.' I smile and think about how that hair would look messed up in my bed.

'Hi Alice.' He says with his electric grin, 'I realised I didn't have your number so I got the system to look up your vin and send you an appointment message, I'm glad you understood.'

'Hi Lewis.' I say.

It's the first time we've spoken each other's name.

He looks between my car and his bike and says, 'Are you hungry? I don't really have a plan, thought we could work one out together.'

'I like that, I had a snack before I came so I don't need food. What about you?' I reply.

'Same.'

I turn my head slightly towards my car and look back at him with a grin, 'So.. do you want to race?'

He scoffs, 'No chance you could keep up with me and besides,' He crosses his arms, 'I said absolutely no high speed until she's steady on her feet.'

I fake a pout and he closes his eyes with a shake of his head.

He says, 'We can cruise together if you want, head up to the mountain or along the beach. We can keep a call open and chat as we drive.'

He uncrosses his arms and pats his bike, 'Or you could let me give you a ride. Ever been a backpack before?'

I was kind of afraid he'd say that, I've never been on a bike. My uncle swore he'd kill anyone who offered. I miss him.

I decide to ask the questions my uncle drilled into me. 'I have a few questions before I consider it, my uncle will come back and spike my tires if I don't ask them.'

'He's gone?'

I look down at the handlebars of his bike, 'Yeah, a few years go. He got caught between a drunk driver and a semi, was dragged under it for half a kilometre before the truck stopped.'

Lewis's eyes widen, 'Marvin Henley was your uncle? I rode with the funeral, he was a legend.'

'Thank you, I know he would have loved to see everyone riding for him.' I sigh.

After a pause he says, 'He designed this bike. It has loads of safety features most bikes don't have. Only thing it doesn't have is flares shooting out of the handlebars to warn off blind drivers. ' He grins at me.

My uncle's bike actually had that, he built it into his prototype MH3 and swore it saved him a couple times.

'Okay, so I trust the bike.' I say. 'Now for my questions.' He leans against his bike and waits.

'Who taught you to ride?' I ask.

'My dad, he got me an electric scooter when I was 14. When I bought my first real bike at 17 he wouldn't let me drive alone for 2 years. He and I spent hours cruising everywhere together in all weather, day and night. We took dirt bikes out in fields, raced on a couple local tracks and he convinced his Harley bros to let me ride one of theirs for my 18th birthday.'

He laughs, 'I hated the ape hangers and swore off Harleys, his friends were not impressed.'

Then he continues, 'So as far as motorcycles go I've been riding for about 20 years.' he pauses, 'I stopped for a few years when my dad died but I got this bike last year and ride almost daily now.'

'Wow!' I say, 'You passed that with flying colours. Next question, where are your scars?'

He quirks an eyebrow at me, 'Scars?'

'My uncle said that anyone who has been riding more than a couple years will have at least one scar, physical or emotional.'

Lewis winces, 'Yeah, no physical scars. I always wear gear, but I broke my arm when I was 22 and still won't go near a log truck on the road.'

'That sounds awful. What happened?' I don't really want to pry but my uncle was adamant about this question. He said that you can tell more about a person by their painful stories than their happy ones. If they speak about it with bravado they haven't gotten over the fear and therefore haven't learned from it.

'It was just a log truck, I was following along waiting for a chance to pass. I glanced down to see what song was playing and I guess a bit of bark flew off the back, my front wheel hit it and I slid on my back into the ditch before I cartwheeled. My bike slid into oncoming traffic.'

He shakes his head then shrugs. 'Even if I hadn't glanced down I was driving too close to the truck to have been able to swerve that bark. At best I'd have slid the back tire and I'd have gone into the traffic instead of my bike. My bike was totalled but no one else was hurt. So if I see a log truck now I stay way the hell back.'

I pause before asking my next question and run my hand along his arm, his black gear matches his bike and I can feel the armour inside.

'I don't have any gear.' I say nodding to the helmet bag strapped to the back of his bike.

He grins and pulls off a backpack I hadn't noticed. 'Max's wife loaned me hers, it will be a little big but should still fit comfortably.'

He pulls out a hot pink coat, pants, and black gloves. I roll my eyes, I'm not a fan of Barbie doll pink.

'I'm going to clash with you and your bike.' I say.

'Does that mean I passed your uncle's test?' He grins.

I put up a finger. 'Last question,' I say. 'How many people have ridden with you?'

He furrows his brows as if unsure of my meaning, 'Are you asking if I'm a bike whore?'

'A what?!' I burst out laughing, 'I'm supposed to find out if you know how to deal with stupid or panicked passengers.'

'Oohhhh!' He joins my laughter, 'Well mostly I ride alone but my dad used to be a complete ass when he rode with me. He purposely did shit to see if I'd drop the bike. Even let himself fall off at an intersection once...scared the shit out of me.' He shakes his head. 'I really miss him.'

'I've never been on a motorcycle, riding or driving.' I admit.

'Not even with your uncle?'

I shake my head. I reach for the pants and start putting them on.

Lewis looks up at the sky and fist bumps the air, 'Thanks old man.'

I pause getting into the pants and cock an eyebrow at him. He shrugs and I continue gearing up. He helps me get the bright pink helmet on, it has bunny ears.

When I'm all geared up I stand beside his bike and he bursts out laughing, 'You look even more ridiculous than Max's wife in that gear.'

'Oh yeah?' I say, my voice muffled in the helmet. I turn towards his bike and drop the visor. I place my hands on the seat, spread my legs wide, push my ass out and look back at him.

He stands motionless, helmet half on his head. He licks his lips, stares at my ass, licks his lips again. I bend my knees dropping low and roll my hips as I stand back up, hands still on his bike.

'Shit. I'm never going to be able to look at Max's wife in that gear again.' He says.

I walk back to him and tap the top of his helmet. 'What was that?' I say loudly, 'Did you say I look ridiculous?'

'Nope! Never.' He shakes his head and slams his helmet down. I hear a pop and he asks if I can hear him.

'Loud and clear, cool!' I reply giggling.

Over the next 15 minutes he goes over the basics of his bike. He tells me the hand signals we can use if the intercom cuts out, how to hold him and to lean with him, how to indicate hazards and what not to do. Despite my heavy flirting he isn't distracted from his lecture, he has me repeat back certain points and reiterates others as he continues. He isn't telling me much that's new, but he isn't mansplaining either. He's being thorough and I appreciate it. I notice he hasn't mentioned the killswitch though and I grin in my helmet.

Then he startles me with his next statement. 'When the bike is on, don't grab my cock.'

I shake my head, 'Bold to think I would.' I tease.

His helmet tips to the side and he puts his hands on his hips.

'This is an absolute stop for me. Don't do it, not intentionally. Not for a joke, not to tease. No matter how much focus and control I have, it's dangerous. Promise me that, anywhere else you want to grope or grab go for it, but not my cock. Serious.'

I stand straight and nod, 'I understand. Never touch your thick hard cock.'

He snorts and the mic picks up his chuckle. He flicks his thumb and the bike starts, 'Only when the bike is on.'

He motions me over and I climb on behind him, it's an odd sensation being perched up so high and crouched forward. He tells me to stretch my arms out to the sides and he wobbles the bike back and forth slightly, I immediately hunch and wrap my arms around his waist.

'These should have seatbelts' I grumble.

'Better to come off the bike than be pinned to it, we don't slide as far as it does.' he replies.

'That's comforting.' I reply sarcastically.

'Hold tight, I'm going to make the bike jerk a couple times so you get a feel for how rough it can be if I miss a gear or have to get away from a problem.'

I squeeze my arms around his waist and he grunts, 'Maybe not quite that tight.'

I don't want to admit how scared I am so I loosen my arms slightly. The bike jerks forward a foot and I bite back a scream.

'How was that?' Comes his cheerful voice over the com.

'I didn't fall off.' I reply trying to keep my voice light.

He does it again and my helmet clunks into the back of his. 'Sorry!' I say and lean back then the bike jerks forward a third time and I gasp. I feel my whole body shudder. His hand rubs my leg and he asks again if I'm okay.

I manage a 'mhmm' and he tells me to put one hand around his waist and the other pressed against the tank. This time when the bike jumps forward a few feet I don't feel as though I'm going to fall off and I don't smack against his helmet.

'Ready to go?' His voice chirps through my helmet.

I take a deep breath, exhale slowly, and grip his coat with both hands. I can't bring myself to press on the tank so I just say yes.

I'm expecting another jolt but we just gently glide onto the road and stop a few metres down at the sign. The roads are empty here and he takes a moment to rub my leg.

'How did that feel?' he asks.

'Are we done?'

He laughs, 'No, but if you are scared we can do something else.'

'I am scared but I want to do this.' I reply honestly.

'Okay, hold on.' I can hear the smile in his voice and he pulls forward and towards the highway.

We get up to speed and merge on smoothly, I'm trying to control my breathing as the lines on the pavement whizz by inches from my feet.

'Can you put one hand on the tank?' He asks, his voice calm and clear in my ears despite the wind I feel buffeting us.

I try to unlock my hands from around him and fail, 'Not at the moment, no.'

He chuckles, 'Okay. I don't mind a helmet kiss now and then.'

We go onto an overpass and the bike jumps a little on a bump even my car wouldn't notice, as predicted my helmet smacks against his.

'I'm sorry!'

'It's okay, it happens on street bikes. Cruisers don't have that problem as much.'

We drive along the fairly straight highway for about 10 minutes and I'm just starting to relax when he says, 'I'm going to switch lanes so we can take the next exit, remember to lean with me, including your hips.'

I've managed to get one hand on the gas tank now and my other hand has a death grip on the coat at his stomach. I nod, realise I'm an idiot and say, 'Okay.'

'I saw that.'

He turns slightly and the bike leans to the side, I'm trembling as I hold on and do my best to just keep glued to him.

'Good job, that was perfect.' Lewis says and then, 'We'll need to lean more for the off ramp. Even if you sit bolt upright I'll keep us on the road but I'd rather you stick with me, okay?'

I squeak out an, 'Okay.'

Forewarned I try to relax my clenched ass as I press my knees to his hips. As we lean into the nearly 360 turn I finally get a sense of why bikers like this feeling. In a car when you take a sharp turn you are thrown away from the curve, on the bike we are pressed down onto the road. It's actually quite comforting.

As we straighten out on a side road he says, 'I can feel that smile.'

I grin wider because he's right; I am smiling.

'Okay Miss Pink, are we headed to the beach or the mountains?'

I intentionally knock his helmet lightly with mine and laughing, say, 'Never call me that again!'

I consider the question and knowing that the mountain road has lots of curves and slower speeds, I request that route.

'Your wish is my command.' he chuckles and signals a left turn at the next set of lights.

Again when he stops he rubs my leg and I loosen my grip on his coat enough to run my hand up and down his chest for a moment. I hear a catcall to our right and see a jacked truck parked next to us, I shake my head and press my helmet against Lewis's back, he blows them a kiss. The light turns green and I yelp as the motorcycle leaps forward with a roar and we accelerate quickly along the road to the ski resort turn off. He warns me we will slow down and I brace against the tank. It's a smooth if quick deceleration and I don't bang his helmet again, a helmet kiss he called it.

We turn onto the winding road. I'm very familiar with it, I drive here when I need to vent. In the summer hardly anyone comes up here.

'I'm going to gradually speed up as we climb so you get used to the turns, are you okay with that? I won't go past the speed limit.'

'I like leaning,' I reply, 'it feels like the bike is hugging the road.'

The next half hour I am mostly silent following the instructions and bracing when he warns me of a change. I realise I'm starting to relax, my death grip on his coat is loosening to just a squeeze. I'm watching the trees flow past when we follow an s curve and I'm only nervous as we roll from one side to the other.

'There's a picnic spot here, we can take a break,' I hear in my ear and splay my fingers across the tank in front of Lewis.

We come to a halt and he turns off the bike, flipping down the kickstand.

'Normally it's ladies first but I think I best catch you if your legs wobble.' he says.

'That's probably for the best.' I admit sheepishly.

I stumble as my feet touch the ground and as promised he catches and holds me up. We walk to a picnic table and pull off our gloves and helmets. I shake out my hair and he runs fingers through his. He sits across from me and watches as I stretch my limbs and toss my head back and forth to loosen my helmet hair. I smile at him, grin actually. He grins back.

'So you aren't going to call an Uber back to the shop?'

My grin cracks into a laugh, 'It is more fun than I expected. I mean, I know you guys are obsessed I just didn't understand why until today.'

'I'm glad I didn't scare you. My aunt swore off bikes when my dad took her for her first ride.' He pauses with a thoughtful expression, 'Although I suspect he intentionally scared her, they were siblings after all.'

'It's not the most comfortable position, I can see why biketok guys all have ripped abs.'

'Oh, I'm on biketok, the booktok ladies are swarming us lately.'

A stab of jealousy hits me and is immediately followed with the thought, 'Wow Alice, you've known the guy for like 12 hours, chill.'

'I caught that expression, what are you thinking?' he asks.

'That you have such a pretty face I hope you always post wearing your helmet, I can't compete with those girls.'

He snorts, 'I'm not suicidal and besides, hardly anyone except other bikers see my videos. I just talk about the philosophy of riding, funny stories, current projects, stuff like that.'

'Can I check out your profile?' I ask and he shrugs.

'Sure, it's Xanth_cyclology.'

I stare mouth agape, 'Is that a pun and a Piers Anthony reference?!'

With a surprised grin he says, 'You read them too?'

'I have never met a single person outside of my family who gets a reference to Xanth.' I exclaim then shake my head.

There's a pause in the conversation where we are just staring at each other with soft smiles. We both know we've met someone special. One of those people who swoop into your life unexpectedly and shake your world.

I walk around the table and sit right next to him, I raise my hand to his cheek and stroke lightly. He closes his eyes for a moment and presses into my hand. I press my lips to his and with eyes now open, he licks my parted lips.

'I want more than kisses,' I say.

'Here?' he asks, looking around.

I run my fingers down his riding jacket, soft black leather hiding padded armour, like a modern knight. I can feel the rough patches and creases deep in the leather showing how much it is worn.

'We haven't seen anyone the whole time we've been on this road.' I say quietly as I press my hands to his chest.

'What... what do you want to do?'

I close my eyes and tilt my head back letting a delicious shiver flow over my body, I'm aching and wet and so fucking horny for this man. Does he seem hesitant? Is he shy? And where is my boldness coming from? I feel uncertain and I know that's my cue to act.

'I'm telling you what I want. You decide if you want my hands, my lips, my mouth and..' I lick my lips, 'my tongue all over you right now.' I half open my eyes and look into his. I'm burning and I let it show in my gaze.

His hands move to his coat, as he slides the zipper down I realise he isn't wearing anything under it. I feel my pussy clench and the accompanying bolt of lightning streaking up my belly, I close my eyes briefly and shiver again. His slow hesitant movements are giving me a delicious agony.

I shrug out of my coat and lay it on the ground at his feet. His lean defined chest is coated in a sheen of sweat; I long to lick him, taste the salty musk of him.

When his hands move to his pants I press my chest to his knees, 'Wait,' I purr, 'Let me.'

I stroke my hands slowly up his calves, behind his knees and up the outside of his thighs. I can barely feel him for all the kevlar surrounding his body. I run my hands up over his hips and back down his thighs; I press gently to encourage him to spread his knees for me. I feel him shiver as my hands glide up his unprotected inner thighs. My thumbs press at the seam of his pants and I feel the distinct outline of a man's semi rigid cock. He's nervous.

'Tell me to stop and I will, instantly. No questions, no judgement, no regret, no repercussions.' I say softly.

I press forward and my ample breasts squeeze between his thighs, pressing at the apex of his riding pants.

In nearly a whisper he says, 'Do whatever you want.' His breath is shallow and I watch his lips move as he speaks.