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A Story written by Omolola…

Demola drove down the sloppy road with his Power Bike, the hot air surrounding him. The night was quiet. The moon full. The atmosphere peaceful. A late-night bareback ride usually calmed him.

But not tonight.

A river of acid poured through his gut. His chest fell like several strands of barbed wire were cutting it in half. And no matter how fast he chased over the terrain, he couldn’t get the picture of Tomilola out of his head.

When she’d stepped out of the big house tonight with the other girls, he’d just about had a heart attack. What the hell had she been thinking, putting on something that made her look as s*xy** as that top had? Every man at the bar would be drooling over her. He sure as hell had been, standing in his house in the dark, hiding so Tomilola wouldn’t see him spying on her. And the thought of some other man drooling over her sent a white-hot surge of rage through him. It had taken every ounce of his willpower not to stalk across the road, toss her over his shoulder and lock her in the nearest closet. Or drag her to his bed.

Unfortunately, he couldn’t do either. Not unless he wanted to pull Tomilola down to his level. So he’d gritted his teeth and watched her crawl into the car with her friends and drive off to the bar. A bar he knew would be filled with music, booze and horny men.

Men who wouldn’t know she wasn’t dressed for them.

He swore into the night. She might not be dressed for them tonight, but sooner or later she would be. Sooner or later she’d go home with one of them. Or bring one of them home with her. Sooner or later another man would kiss her. Take her.

He swore again, long and hard, as he pulled to a stop. He fully intended to sit here, all night if necessary, and wait for Tomilola and the girls to come home. Stupid and sophomoric, like driving by a girl’s house to see if she was there, but here he was.

The moonlight washed everything in a quiet, silvery light, making it easy to see the lone figure walking down the wide, dity road. He squinted into the twilight.

“Tomilola?”

The figure startled, a surprised squeal bursting from her lips as she looked up toward him. But once she spotted him, she relaxed a bit. “Demola?”

He nodded, “What are you doing walking out here?”

Her lips twisted ruefully and she waved a hand down the road. “Here’s a little bit of irony for you. I got a flat.”
He smiled, relief flowing through him. It wasn’t much past ten; if they were heading home this early, they obviously weren’t having much fun romancing the men. “I can fix that for you. How far back is the car? I take it the other girls are there, waiting for you to bring help.”

She shook her head. “They were having too much fun at the bar. They were going to close the place, then hitch some of the Big W men there. And if the tire were fixable, I’d have done it by now. But the spare was flat, too.”

He looked at her feet. The pretty leather sandals looked new. She probably had blisters on top of blisters already. He could hardly leave her here to finish the walk home. Although with the full moon overhead, only one Power bike to share and his nerves already drawn tighter, it would undoubtedly be the safer decision. Steeling himself for the ride ahead, he swung off his bike. “You can call the rental company in the morning. They can send someone to get it. In the meantime, let’s get you home.”

Her brows went up as she gave the bike a good look. “With this?”

“Any problem with it? Actually, considering your skirt, it’ll make things easier.” He assisted her onto the bike.

“I’m not sure I can stay on this way once we start moving.”

“Don’t worry. I won’t let you fall.” And putting her on would require rucking her skirt halfway up her legs. A display he was pretty damned sure he wasn’t up to. He swung onto the bike and started it.

He gritted his teeth. Okay, this was every bit as bad as he’d imagined. And then some. But there wasn’t much he could do about it, except do the best he could to keep his mind otherwise occupied.  They were moving.

“So how come you left the bar early?” Despite himself, he wanted to hear that she hadn’t found anyone who interested her as much as he did.

“I wasn’t having much fin, and there was this guy there, Chris Aigbe. Know him?”

He blocked out the feel of her hip snuggling into his back and tried not to notice that her perfectly plumped breasts were hitting him at the back. “Yeah.” Great, he sounded like he had a ton of gravel in his throat. He cleared his throat. “He considers himself quite a ladies’ man.”

“No kidding. He was all over me.” She shuddered. “The guy must have ten hands. And he kisses like a leech.”

Shock ran through him. “You kissed him?”

She bristled indignantly. “He kissed me. And don’t take that tone with me. If you didn’t want other men kissing me you should have come when we invited you.”

His brows shot toward his hatband. “Let me get this straight. I wouldn’t play, so you went looking for the first guy who would?”

“No,” she snapped, her expression turning downright peevish. “But if I had, you couldn’t possibly complain about it.”

“The hell I couldn’t.”

Her gaze snapped, her eyes going wide and then narrowing to a sly, dark slits.

Dammit. He’d blown it now.

They had turned into a very quiet environment, very close to the estate. Demola pulled to a stop, climbing down and gazing into the sky.

Tomilola followed him, stopping right in front of him. Her expression turned positively wicked. “What’s wrong, Demola? Did it bother you thinking I was at a bar with other men? Men who, unlike you, would have no qualms about dragging me down to their level?’

He looked away, refusing to take the bait. “Let it go, Tomilola.”

But it didn’t take more than a glance at her sly expression to know she had no intention of letting it go.

“You know. . .” her voice dripped . . .”Chris wasn’t really my type. But there were a lot of other cute men there.”

He pictured her checking out the men at the bar. Pictured them checking her out. He drew a deep breath, reining in his jealousy.

“Amaka pointed out this one guy who was giving us the eye. He was pretty cute, dressed up in his Friday-night best, with his dark, wavy hair and these rather startling brown eyes.”

“Shut up, Tomilola.” He’d just spent the last three hours thinking about how much he wanted her, aching with that want. No way would he stand here calmly and listen to her talk about other men.

But she didn’t even pause. “His shoulders weren’t as broad as yours, but the rest of him wasn’t bad. Great. . .”

His control snapped.

The day would surely come when he had to watch her walk into another man’s arms. But, by God, today would not be that day. He slammed his lips over hers.

She didn’t hesitate. She leaned into him, wrapped her arms around his neck and opened her mouth to his.

He deepened the kiss. She tasted hotter than he remembered. Sweeter. And he couldn’t get enough. He pulled her closer.

Somewhere in the remotest part of his brain, he knew he was making a huge mistake. Knew he had no right to touch her. But no one knew they were here. No one would ever know what happened here under the moonlight. And he couldn’t stop himself. He had to touch her. Had to taste her. Had to have her. Now, if not forever.

She pressed closer, moving really closer so she was more toward him.

Had anything ever felt this good? He cupped her Bosom, her soft fullness filling his palm. But a touch wasn’t enough. He pulled his lips from hers. “I want to see you.”

To Be Continued…

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