Biker Chick by Dakota Knight

decided to let the past stay in the past.
    â€œWhat do you mean I need another name?” I asked as I turned my back toward him so he could clasp my bra.
    He chuckled. “When I first met you, I thought you were hard, sly, and slick like a fox. But now . . .” He kissed my left shoulder blade and gave me a playful push.
    â€œNow what?”
    â€œI think you’re a butterfly.”
    I turned around and glared at him, “A butterfly?”
    â€œYeah,” he said, grabbing me around my waist and pulling me onto his lap. “My sweet, delicate, wonderful butterfly.”
    â€œMmmm,” I moaned as he kissed my back. “I’ve been called many things before, but delicate is not one of them.”
    â€œI doubt you’ve let anyone else see it.” He added a bit of tongue with his lips, blazing a trial across my heated back. “But I do.”
    I felt his arousal and moved away from him. “If you think giving me compliments and getting me all hot and bothered is going to save you from going to this Summer Blast with me . . . well . . .” I flashed a wicked smile and wrapped my hands around his neck. “It’ll at least get you a delay.”
    The next few minutes were filled with the pleasure only a man could give me, but unfortunately, I couldn’t let my passion overtake me. I tore myself from Ray’s lips and grabbed his hands to stop his caress.
    â€œYou torturing a brotha today,” Ray groaned as I backed away from him.
    â€œI’ll make it up to you tonight.” I reached for my Foxy T-shirt and put it on.
    â€œI thought tonight was the makeup for dragging me to the Summer Blast.”
    I laughed in response. “Are you saying I have to break out the pussy pass for two nights straight?”
    â€œI thought I had a lifetime membership.”
    I smiled and said, “You think a lot, don’t you?” I bent down to kiss him deeply before rising up again. “Come on, let’s get this over with.”
    The Columbus Motorcycle Summer Blast was one of the biggest events of the year for motorcycle clubs around the city and suburbs. I had never gone to one before, but I had heard that it was sort of like a family reunion. The only way I convinced Ray to come with me is because I told him there was going to be barbecue and free drinks.
    In any other lifetime, I wouldn’t be caught dead at the Blast. Like I said, it was generally for the over-thirty crowd. Through some evil twist of fate, Mrs. Phillips called my bluff and purchased a Fendi bag from me. She asked for it on the day before the last day of class and told me to bring it the following day. She had the cash, and I had the goods. And now I had to mingle with the fogies as they ranted about all that was wrong in the world.
    â€œI bet it won’t be that bad,” Ray said, as we headed for our steels in the garage.
    â€œIf you say so,” I replied as Ray opened the door for me and I walked through it. I grabbed my helmet off Foxy Baby’s seat and prepared to strap it on.
    Thankfully, it was a mild day. A day great for riding. I rode beside Ray as we traveled through the streets of Pickerington and headed into Columbus. Since the Blast was held at Franklin Park, we decided to take a straight shot down Broad Street. While stopped at a red light at the Broad and James Road, I couldn’t help but look right, toward the location of the Heights and the Meadows, which were located about a half mile from the intersection. For a second, I thought about taking a turn and getting my girls, but then I turned my head left and looked at my man. He was eyeing me through his helmet. I had all the company I needed.
    A couple minutes later, after we passed through the ultra-rich Bexley neighborhood full of old mansions and well-manicured lawns, the sound of thunder let me know we were about to arrive. All of a sudden, a swarm of steels surrounded us. A surge of energy coursed