𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐕𝐄

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" let me ride

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" let me ride. "

"ARE YOU SURE about this, Saint?" I ask for about the hundredth time, fiddling with the straps of his extra helmet as he puts on his own.

We're standing on the sidewalk in front of my condominium, it's cold as shit even though I'm wearing long sleeves and the gear that Saint had brought me. It's near midnight, the streets aren't so busy, which is what I'm assuming is perfect for late night rides.

"More than sure." His eyes smile at me. "Put on your helmet, sweetheart." Saint's voice is slightly muffled but I can still understand him and I follow what he says. My hands are on both sides and I guide it down slowly on my head, facing him as I do so. I look for the buckle of the chin strap and tighten it around my chin to make sure it doesn't fly off.

I smile at him for a second and he pats on the empty space behind him on his black Yamaha R1 with red accents. My eyes scan the bike for a quick second and they lock on the red, glowing led lights on the rims, headlights, and underneath the body.

My heart drops to my stomach when I finally realize what I'm actually getting into. I only saw these kinds of moments in movies or while driving on the highway, and now, it's going to happen to me. I'm going to be the backpack of a biker that's going 190 MPH on the freeway.

"It's safe, Lia. You know I wouldn't do anything if I knew it would hurt you in any way." He says, and I get he's trying to be genuine but..

"It's hard to take you seriously when you have an 'If you want more inches, stroke it!' sticker on your helmet." I try to hold back any laugh, but I crack and end up laughing my ass off like a crazy person on the street. Saint scoffs, throwing his head back. He throws his hands up in the air in defeat and they land on his lap as he shakes his head.

"Let's get going, sweetheart," He pulls me in close by the waist, and I let out a yelp mixed with a chuckle. "So I can show you how fast I can really go."

My legs are in between his spread ones, his chest is touching mine and if it weren't for our helmets, who knows how close we could be. We stay in that position for a few seconds, but I finally get a grip on myself and pull away with an awkward chuckle.

My voice is small, "How do I get on?"

"Just hold onto my shoulders, baby, one leg goes over and then tighten your grip on me."

I'm not exactly sure what he means, though I just watch as he gets into position with both hands gripping on the handlebars with ease. I place one hand on his right shoulder and with a confident stride, I swing one leg over the sleek machine and position myself behind him. My fingers gently brush against his broad shoulders as I settle onto the cushioned seat, a subtle connection sparks between us.

I adjust my position, getting comfortable against the cool leather, my body presses lightly against his firm back while mine is arched, ass popping out slightly for comfort. My heart flutters in my chest and there are butterflies filling my stomach as I move my hand down his body to his waist and grip onto his sides tightly.

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