Top ways to have sex on a bike

 

 

Hey, friends! I’m Em Petrova, and I’m here to talk about romance—the real and fiction varieties. My heroes are hardworking—in bed and out. My cowboys drive pickups and my firemen command a 6-cylinder diesel fire engine. But my bikers…mm-mmm. They’ve got pretty wheels.

 

When I say top ways to have sex on a bike, I’m not talking about your childhood Huffy with the banana seat (mine also had a purple flag on the back). Nope, I’m talking about a souped-up, chrome-covered piece of revving steel. The man in control of this beauty is a bad-ass god wearing leather.

 

Ways to have sex on a bike:

  1. Ladies, get up front and take hold of those handlebars while your tattooed man takes charge from behind.
  2. Get intimate face-to-face. Straddle your man and take him for a ride!
  3. Lie face-down on the bike and let your legs dangle off. Your man can figure out what to do.
  4. Position yourself side-saddle on the leather seat and hook your ankles around his ears, ladies. It’s all about balance.
  5. Let him buy you a remote control vibrator while you tear up the miles.

 

I hope you’ve gotten a few fun ideas. If you don’t have the biker or the wheels, you can always get the next best thing—a book about a steamy-hot biker who knows how to treat his woman. LOVE TIES is out now. Read on for a smoldering excerpt.

 

RATED ADULT:

Ever ran her hands over Jamison’s shoulders. The smooth leather of his cut felt too right for words. She hitched her ankle around his thighs and rubbed her aching pussy against his groin.

 

They shared a moan.

 

Need spiked in her core. Since leaving the Life—and her ex—she hadn’t had much sex. Sure, she’d picked up a few guys over the years. One-night stands that had meant nothing but the end to her loneliness, at least for a night. That’s what Jamison was.

 

Even as she thought this, her mind accepted it as a lie. He angled his head and plunged his tongue into her mouth, stirring something deeper.

 

She twisted out of the kiss but continued to dry-hump him.

 

His eyes were dark and serious. “Don’t pull away from me.”

 

The roughness in his voice heated her. With a mew, she threw her arms around him, yanked his head down, and kissed him. The flavors of mint and whiskey dialed up her desire.

 

With his broad chest pinning her and his hips doing a slow grind against hers, she lost herself to sensation. His five o’clock shadow scraped her sensitive skin, and his kisses were almost bruising. Just as she liked them.

 

He dotted kisses down her throat and sucked the indentation between her collarbones. She arched into his caress, tugging at his leather. When he slipped it off his shoulders, she gasped, “Get naked, then put it back on.”

 

Hell, she really did have it bad for bikers.

 

He withdrew enough to shoot her a look that curled her hair, if it hadn’t already been affected by the humidity. “You like motorcycle guys, Ever?”

 

God, he knew. She’d taken so many steps away from this Life. But she’d fallen right back into it as if five years of schooling, a nine-to-five job, and paying bills with money that wasn’t gained through some dark trade wasn’t behind her.

 

Digging her fingers into Jamison’s shoulders, she clawed at his T-shirt. The cotton was worn to softness. Too easily she pictured herself wearing it in the morning, walking into the kitchen, and getting coffee.

 

He moved to allow her to remove his shirt. It caught on her hand, and she flicked her wrist to remove it, sending it flying across the room.

 

Jamison’s laugh rumbled her breasts. “Watch the candle, baby.”

 

“Not your…”she sucked in sharply as he latched onto her neck with a sucking pull of his mouth, “…baby.”

 

“You’re mine tonight.”

 

That was enough.

 

His sculpted pecs and the ridges of his abs pressed her deeper into the mattress. When she realized he was sucking the same spot on her throat long enough to raise blood to the surface, she jerked her knee up.

 

“Damn.” He deflected her blow, and she hit his inner thigh, inches from his balls. “What’s that for?”

 

“Leaving a hickey on me. What are you—sixteen?”

 

He braced his arms on either side of her head and stared down at her for five heartbeats…six. The candlelight roamed over his features, shadow then light, cutting new paths of worry lines over his skin. He didn’t have an easy life. There was no Monday night football on TV or golf for Jamison. What the hell was she doing with another goddamn MC guy?

 

“You don’t want my marks on you. Is that it?”

 

His words licked over her, fanning her need. The ache in her pussy spread. As he continued to stare down at her, his eyes softened.

 

“Fine, no more marks.”

 

He rolled off and reached for the hem of her shirt. Tingles of awareness shot through her system as callused fingers met her skin. How long since someone had taken the time to learn the contours of her ribs, the dip of her belly?

 

Jamison did it oh, so well. He traced brand new paths over her body. When he flicked her bellybutton ring, he gave her a crooked smile.

 

Hell, he was a beautiful man. Cleaned up, he’d look like a soccer star, all lean, ropy muscle and chiseled jaw. His disheveled hair and a few grease smudges on his jeans only made him more desirable.

 

Cupping his jaw, she kissed him. Full-on fuck-me kisses that sent her up in flames. She bucked her hips against his, seeking an end. But he wouldn’t let her go too fast. Was that a good thing or not?

Love_Ties-Em_Petrova-1563x2500 (2)

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