Throttled by Elizabeth Lee
The first time I saw her I knew that I was going to enjoy our time together. Why wouldn’t I? She was made just for me. I’d been waiting for a moment like this. For a moment when I knew that I was exactly where I was supposed to be. The nervousness coursing through my veins was matched only by the thrill of feeling her under my body. I’d longed for this. Ached to put my hands on her. To turn her on and learn what made her tick. What made her bend to my will. I needed to control her more than I needed to take my next breath. My heart raced as I approached.
Why am I so nervous?
I was usually calm in these situations. I was Reid Travers, damn it. I was a professional. The tremble in my hand—the one that I quickly shook off—warned that I was entering some unknown territory. How could something so pretty—so wanted—make me feel this way? Maybe it was the fact that as I approached I could see my future unfolding. The future I’d asked for. Sacrificed everything for. The action-packed, everything-you’ve-ever-wanted, thrill ride that I’d always dreamed of.
With her.
I circled her slowly and reached my hand out to touch her. The charge that had been building between us released in a single spark as I first made contact. As I ran my hand over her sleek curves, I was practically salivating. The moment I straddled her, my muscles began to tense. As I settled into position, I took a deep breath and felt my lips curl into a wicked grin.
She was so responsive. So ready. My body gripped hers and she gripped mine right back. Like I said, she was made for me and I was damn sure built for her. She took all six-foot-three inches, two-hundred pounds of me with ease.
“So what do you think?” The voice of the man responsible for delivering my new favorite thing in the entire world asked, pulling me out of my intoxicated state and reminding me that we were not alone.
“She’s perfect,” I replied without looking up. Adrenaline had replaced anxiety and I was more than ready to give her a go. I could have sat there for hours and explained to him why, but what I really wanted to do was see if she ran as good as she looked. “Fucking perfect.”
“The bike was built to your exact specifications, but everything is adjustable. Suspension, brakes, throttle. I’m sure your mechanic will be able to tweak it all to your liking.”
“I’m sure she’s just fine,” I assured him.
He was crazy if he thought I was going to let anyone but me handle her. I’d be making the adjustments. If she even needed any. From where I was sitting she was exactly what I’d asked for, tight and loose in all the right places. Though I wouldn’t know for sure until I did what I did best. I moved into position and within seconds she roared to life.
It was time to ride.
“Where in the fuck are we going? I’m pretty sure we’ve already passed Timbuktu and that was the turn for BFE,” Brett Sallinger practically growled through the phone line.