Tiny aches blossomed throughout my body.
"Uggggg".
I grunted at the alarm growing louder in my head, reached over and grabbed my phone on the nightstand.
7 new text messages, the first 6 were from Liz. Woops, the reggae spot, last night!
'where are you, I'm at the bar'? 9:44 pm
'hello'. 10:19 pm
'jenny'. 11:00 pm
'JENNY' 11:30 pm
'WTF JENNY' 11:40 pm
'Whatev, call me tomm. Hope all's well'.
Double woops, that last text was at 11:45 pm.
By that time last night my ass was in bed, passed out! I did watch the security camera footage from the front gate. Naked, in bed. That video is the damned hottest thing I've ever seen, or done! Sad, but true...
I sent her a return text.....
'Ended up crashing at home, got a story for u. Will call ltr. Good morning HONEY'!!.
I hit send and checked the other message, my heart skipped a beat.
'Hey it's Marcus. Hope u made it home safe. I was wondering, if ur not busy today, if u wanted to hang'?
My stomach sank through the bed! I had not expected a message from my Masked man so soon!
My reply took me a few minutes, it had to be just right. Keep it simple stupid...
'What u got planned'?
Seconds later came his reply,
'Can I have you or not babe? Text me your address'.
Hmm demanding........
'You may have me, I need to take another bath first. Can u meet me at our spot from last night'?
His reply was instant, like he had already typed it.
'Be there in an hour and a half, wear boots'.
I sent a quick reply and at the same time got out of bed.
'K'
My phone vibrated, one new message.
' 10:00 am. '
My heart melted as I started a bath and ran to the kitchen to grab a bagel. I had to look hot as fuck today baby!!
By 9:50 I was finishing up my mascara in the mirror of the foyer. I rushed out the door in a black leather jacket, dark blue skinny jeans and black leather boots lifted two inches.
I snatched the clicker for the big iron gate, and a short walk later I stood waiting. A deep rumble began to grow louder as the large black gate closed behind me.
He was right on time.
Apprehension slowly grew inside me as the sound steadily grew closer. It was not the tone of a black race bike. The rumbling sounds intensified. A gorgeous classic black, long, low and lean Harley Davidson. It's motor gurgling deep and clean. I could feel the vibration shaking the earth through my boots.
It was quite a turn on.
I'm only slightly dissatisfied I won't be riding the ghost like racing machine. The back seat looked soft and comfortable, easing a bit of apprehension, I was reminded of my aching derrière.
The lean masked man slid off his iron horse, reached behind him and unstrapped a matching smoke colored helmet and handed it to me. He motioned for me to put it on.
