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‘Hullo,’ I said brightly when the HOG came in, pretending like I didn’t know him. ‘Cappuccino? Latte?’ ‘Is that your bike?’ he said. ‘Yeah, why,’ I said chirpily. ‘D’you want to buy it?’ ‘You’d be willing to sell that?’ he asked incredulously. ‘Uh … no,’ I admitted. ‘What is it?’ he said. ‘Where did you get it?’ ‘Deus ex Machina Grievous Angel,’ I muttered. I hung my head and said sulkily: ‘It’s all my ex-husband left when he died.’ ‘Oh fuck,’ the HOG said, looking stricken. ‘I’m so sorry.’ ‘Oh no,’ I said quickly, lifting my head up so he could see I wasn’t crying or anything. ‘Best day of my fucking life when I found out he’d taken a header off a cliff and broken his neck. He always took good care of the bike, there was barely a scratch on that luckily.’ The HOG looked like his face was trying to process six different emotions at once. I realised I hadn’t explained things as well as I had hoped. In embarrassment I turned round and put a coffee on. He didn’t really need to. He pulls out, and eases himself back inside me, doing this again once, twice, three times. It’s slow, and accepting, I cling tightly to him. Our lips meet once more; the kiss is as slow as his thrusts inside me. I feel so full of him; he takes every inch he can offer me. I accept it with every fiber of my being, wanting him as much as he wants me. I moan out through our kiss, and he begins to grind just enough inside me. We bring it to a new level, moving our motion a little faster, becoming hungry for more. He claims me, thrusting deeper, he never misses a beat. His strokes increasing inside me, I twist, obeying an instinct I hadn't known I possessed. I whimper out, lifting my hips from the bed, rocking myself to his rhythm. Powerful, passion, need, hungry, want and all around lust for one another is what we feel in this one moment, nothing else matters to either of us. All that matters is each other, we don’t need or want a single thing but the other. I need him, he needs me, we.
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