Two seconds. That’s all it’d take to rip off those panties, bend her over my bike and show her exactly how useful thatthingcould be for her tight cunt. It’s clear she needs a good hard fucking into the cold ground straight down to hell. It might just tone that bravery down a notch.
She can take my dick. Hell, I’d offer it to her on a silver fucking platter, wrapped in a pretty blood-red bow, just to watch her reaction. Wouldn’t stop me from shoving other things inside her body though. She might as well take my tongue, my fists, and my fucking madness while she’s at it.
Actually, she’s gonna have to kill me. Yeah. That’s her only hope because I’m not stopping. Not until she’s screaming my name like it’s the only goddamn thing keeping her alive.
She wants to fight me? Fine. But if she wants to win—she’ll have to bury me her fucking self.
Aurelia likes to act unruly, a small bitchy rascal with far too much to say, but I saw the way her body betrayed her—tense, breathless and turned the fuck on. I swear, if I jammed my fingers into her panties right now, she’d still be drenched from our earlier interaction.
She can lie with her lips, but not with that dripping, begging cunt.
Itfucking aches. It’s deceiving her. And I haven’t even started.
Her sharp words didn’t line up with the way she looked at me. She’s intrigued by the evil motherfucker that I am, even if she won’t admit it, and that makes this push and pull between us not just harder to resist, but so much more pleasurable to break her with.
Instead of giving her the reaction she clearly wants, I snarl and look forward, jerking the bike just enough to make her cling tighter, arms and legs locking around me.
Billy opens the Globe of Death door, and I ride up the ramp before entering.
“What… What is this?” she murmurs by my ear, and the sound nearly drives me insane. There’s fear in her voice now, laced with confusion, and somehow it becomes my one of my favorite fucking things to hear spill from that bratty mouth.
Waiting for the door to close and the lights to turn red, I wrap my arm around the small of her back, pulling her in closer, making it clear she needs to stay locked and still if I’m going to keep this damn bike steady.
I’m deemed the best motorcyclist here, I’ve pulled off more solo acts than I can count, but I’ve never done this with someone on the front of my bike. I’ve seen Soul do it a hundred times and make it look easy. But this isn’t practice. I either nail this straight off the bat, or I fucking kill us both.
As soon as the globe glows red and the bass from the music drops, deep and bone-shaking, I roar the engine, hands gripping the bars tight. The cage vibrates beneath the tires, steel groaning like it knows what’s coming.
She buries her face into the side of my neck, her arms locking around me, clutching like a good girl who finally understands how serious this could be.
Then, without warning, I move. I twist the throttle and take off, riding the bottom of the globe in a tight circle and the momentum builds with every pass, the world blurring. I start to angle upward, the tires gripping the wall, and I begin to climb.
Soon we’re suspended sideways, flying along the vertical curve of the globe like gravity forgot about us. In the center of the globe, we’re spinning, hard, fast, relentless with her body melting against mine.
The heat, the tension and the trust is all twisting together between us and I feel every tremble she tries to hide, her nails biting into my shoulders, breaking skin.
I should be focusing on the route and our survival, but all I can think about is the way her lips brush my throat, like I’m the only thing tethering her to this world.
We’re defying death in a cage built to kill. And I swear, in this moment, I’ve never felt more a fucking live with her wrapped around me. But I want more. I wantherto feel it. I want to hear that scream claw its way out of her pretty throat, raw and real and fucking mine.
So I do something reckless as always. I cut the throttle, just for a second and the bike stutters, dropping us a fraction too fast, the weight of us both slipping sideways on the curve. Her scream rips out instantly, sharp and panicked, echoing off the steel walls.
It’s everything I wanted. Beautiful, chaotic,fuckingperfect.
I hit the gas again and correct the slide, ascending with a violent burst of speed that rattles the cage.
Now we’re spinning toward the top, faster than we should, faster than is safe, but I don't give a fuck. This is how she learns: ride with Wrath or fall with him.
Suddenly she starts laughing and it hits like a shot of adrenaline straight to the chest, messing with something I thought was long dead. Her laugh builds, wild, loud and almost unhinged. She was supposed to be break. But now I don’t know who’s more of a nutcase. Me, or the girl clinging onto me, giggling like she was born for this fucking unruliness.
After a while of relentless spinning, I start to descend, guiding the bike down in tighter circles until we hit the bottom of the globe, and I kill the engine.
She doesn’t move at first, just breathes against my neck, hot and rapid. Then her head lifts, slow, like she’s waking up from something. Her eyes find mine straight away, glassy and blown wide, but it’s the faint smile on her black, full lips that draws my attention.
It’s gone the second she realizes she’s still wearing it. She clears her throat while facing aside, her mask slipping into place as if she didn’t just laugh for me and come alive in my hands. Then she turns her head to the side, looking past me and locks stares with Madame.
After a couple of seconds, her emotionless gaze glides back to me, slow and deliberate, scanning every inch of my painted face before she leans in. Her hands trail down my chest, smooth and unhurried, like she knows exactly what she’s doing.
“Not bad, circus boy,” she purrs, voice dipped and soaked in mockery as her pretty golden eyes sparkle with darkness. “You just gave me the best hard ride of my life.”