" 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.
Our eyes meet in his side view mirror and a smile forms on my lips when he winks at me. We maintain eye contact and then finally, he puts down his visor and his eyes are no longer in view, I follow and lower mine too. My vision slightly darkens, though I still have a clear view of the street and cars that pass by.
Saint glances over his shoulder and gives me a small nod that I return, like a silent understanding between us. I lean in closer to him, my head nearly rests on his shoulder and my eyes watch his hand reach for the ignition. The rumble of the engine echoes in the air and the bike grumbles beneath us, sending vibrations through my whole body. A potent reminder of the power that lies beneath us.
His fingers expertly twist the throttle, a surge of energy coursing through the bike. The engine roars to life, its growl is fierce and inviting, and we're gladly accepting it. The sound overlaps the crickets and sounds of other cars' engines with ease, drowning out the noise of reality and leaving only the thrill of the ride to come.
I tighten my grip around his waist, snaking it all the way around to his stomach and intertwining my fingers out of fear. "Hold on tight, sweetheart." He puts the kickstand back into place with his foot, and now, the only thing holding us up is him and his ability to balance. Saint's excitement mirrors mine, I can feel his other foot moving to switch to first gear, and the thrilling ride starts.
With the flick of his wrist, we start to move forward and he places his boots back on the footpegs. He gives the bike a quick rev, which resonates throughout the empty street as we cruise to our first stoplight. Each roll of the wheels as he increases the speed is the engine growing even louder, the wind teases strands of my hair and I'm sure it'll take me years to comb it back to normal after this ride.
"Just a few stoplights and turns, then we'll be on the highway." He informs me and it's sort of hard to hear him over the loud growls of the bike. The light turns green in no time and before I know it, I can feel the engine's power propelling us through the streets of New York. It pushes us faster and faster, my body leans in harmony with Saint's with each smooth turn.
My heart is pounding in sync with the motorcycle's increasing rhythm of the engine. The acceleration sends a jolt of adrenaline through my body and it's a feeling I've always yearned for. A thrilling mixture of freedom and exhilaration.
My adrenaline only increases as we exit the streets and make it onto the highway. This is where the fun starts. The wind is hitting my body and my hair is flowing perfectly behind me. The thrill of being on an open road with cars that we easily pass by, inches away from the bike gets me even more excited.
I can feel Saint chuckle from his stomach when I tighten my grip on him, it feels like my body is nearly going to be pulled off of this bike. I take a glance at the display on the motorcycle and see that we've climbed up to 152 MPH. The cars next to us are changing within seconds with how fast we're speeding through them.
As the world around us blurs into a vibrant tapestry of lights and colors, I lose myself in the moment. The wind rushes against my body, my senses could never be more alive than ever with the scent of asphalt and gasoline along with the symphony of the passing scenery. I hold on tighter, feeling the warmth of his body as he guides us through the twists and turns, his every move precise and confident.
At 167 MPH, we managed to find another biker on a Suzuki Hayabusa. It's fully white and has led lights under its body and rims that match ours. Saint does a few hand signals to him, which I'm assuming meant a race because not even a second later, he's climbing up to 180 with his chest pressed against the tank of the bike. He tucks and I do too to support him.
With every rev of the engine, I can sense his determination and focus, the joy of the ride etched into his features. Saint switches to third gear and immediately gaps him, I look over my shoulder to see the Hayabusa lost in the midst of the crowd of other cars and trucks and he chuckles. "Weak." He mumbles, leaning left and right with ease to pass by each car.
He signals for not even a second before moving to the lane at the far left. There's less cars and it gives him more room to increase his speed. My heart is beating out of my chest and it feels like my whole soul had been left behind at where we first entered the highway.
197.. 198.... 199... And then, 200 MPH. My grip is tighter than ever, my head is resting on his back and facing the right side where all of the cars are seen and I notice there's a Lamborghini Huracan chasing us. That neon green, beast of an engine and..
"Cops. Saint, there's cops!" I frantically hit Saint's back, and he takes a glance at what's behind us through the side view mirror before accelerating. 210 MPH, he's cruising between cars with no hesitation and I gasp when a red Toyota moves to switch lanes. I close my eyes out of fear, gripping and curling a piece of his leather gear in my hand but thankfully, all I feel is a rough swerve and distant honk.
I open one eye and glance back to see the same red Toyota, far far away, crashed into a Honda Civic. I chuckle, then notice there's a cop on a motorcycle still on our asses. "Saint, he's still on us." I try to remain calm but my voice starts to shake and my hand only grabs onto him tighter.
It wasn't my intention to make Saint anxious, though now he's fighting to reach 220 MPH and his strong hands are gripping the handlebars even tighter. There's no exit to be found, just cars and cars one after another as the cops sirens grow louder. I don't bother looking back, adrenaline-fueled exhilaration is coursing through my veins and my heart pounds in rhythm with the roars of the bike's engine.
Saint takes a huge risk and signals for less than a second before switching over to the far right lane, our lives are in his hands right now and I've never had more trust in a person than this moment. He doesn't stop and goes one handed, making my heart drop the second I see his hand let go of the handlebar. His left hand is held up high in the air freely, occasionally being held back by the fierce winds and our fast pace.
He lowers his hand and I assume he's going to put it back on the handlebar, but instead he brings it down to the side of my thigh and grips onto it tightly. We're cruising at 220 MPH and he's acting like it's lightwork and completely normal to him. Saint's hand rubs up and down the side of my thigh, and occasionally moves higher to my plush ass and squeezes it softly. This earns him a few sharp inhales and he chuckles in return.
The sounds of sirens have been drowned out by the loud growls of the bike, and I'm nearly a hundred percent sure they've lost us. Saint starts to decelerate, keeping the speed at a steady 190 MPH which is fast, but I'm still able to enjoy the wind. I purposely wrap my arms around him tighter and he keeps his left hand on my thigh, the amount of cars slowly starting to decrease which lets him go with no hands.
Now, both of his hands are on my thighs, and they work with me to adjust my position and move my core closer to his ass. Heat rushes to my cheeks and the back of my neck, making the air trapped in my helmet turn hot. The fact that my gear is thinner than ever doesn't help.
In return, I rub both of my hands up and down his chest. His body chuckles underneath my hands and I continue the movement, roaming lower for a mere second before pulling back. I move my hands up to his shoulder blades, my fingers apply gentle pressure as they glide along the muscles of his shoulders. My touch is focused, and attentive, focusing on the parts that may be tight or sore.
I pull my hands away, returning them to its spot around his waist and look over to my side to try and distract myself from what I'm doing. I watch the scenery pass by and occasionally get covered by a car or two and a smile tugs at my lips. "God, this feels amazing.." I mumble, bringing my hand up to feel the air myself and it doesn't disappoint. The feeling is a mix of ecstasy, adrenaline, and Saint's sudden increase of speed makes me grab onto his waist tightly once again.
Turning my head to the left, I see another biker on a green Kawasaki Ninja at the same speed as us. He's attempting to move closer to us, leaning more on me, but Saint rejects him and leaves him behind immediately. His foot moves down to the gear shifter and he shifts to fourth gear, his hand gripping halfway on the clutch.
Saint tucks and I follow, he's moving up to 200 MPH once again, but this time it's easier with less cars. I take a peek at the road ahead and see the huge tunnel we're about to enter, my mouth agape when we make it within a few seconds. Saint, being the cocky man he is, decides to rev his engine and the growls and rumbles of the bike resonate throughout the whole tunnel, announcing our presence to anyone up ahead.
He slows down 10 MPH and we leave the tunnel. Right after, just a few seconds ahead is what I'm assuming is the last exit and he signals to the far right. He makes a smooth, slow turn exiting the highway and decides to lane split all the way to the front where we meet a couple of other late night bikers.
"Is that your girlfriend?" One of them asks, pointing in my direction.
Saint chuckles, "I fucking wish." I hear him say under his breath before he shakes his head saying, "Just my backpack for tonight."
The guy nods and they continue to talk about their bike preferences and all of that biker guy lingo until the light turns green. Before I can wave goodbye to him out of politeness, a large hand stops me and keeps it next to the side of my thighs as we ride off. I get a glimpse of Saint's rare death stare before he quickly puts down his visor, and I furrow my eyebrows.
I decide to brush it off as exhaustion, trying to convince myself that the way his gaze was on me was nothing and he's just irritated that I broke a rule I wasn't aware of.
"Saint, what did I do? You're acting weird." My words make him accelerate and I groan, watching as the already high number increases even more. I have no choice but to rest my hands on his sides again, purposely pushing myself closer to him as a way to get closer or to apologize, but I get no reaction.
He's attempting to reach 220 MPH once again, we're on a long, empty road and I place my hands on the tank for more support. Saint tilts his head down, noticing my hands, and decides to pull them off of the tank. In one swift movement, his hand fights mine and places them on his stomach. I don't fight it, only grabbing on tighter when the roar of the engine fills the atmosphere as he reaches 220.
I don't know why I'm trying when I know it's wrong.
It's all wrong. This ride. Saint. Us.
I'll just pray to the fucking lord that Rainer has mercy on me.
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Chapter 13 won't disappoint ~