(Arata)
He twisted the throttle, the bike came to life like a black stallion as he smoothly backed it.
Off we went, with me holding onto his body, feeling the chiselled groves of his back digging into my breasts.
Once we left the parking lot behind, he sped up, making me gripping his body tighter. Like a professional biker, he zigzagged through the night traffic of Marica City.
The night wind whooshing past us, the buildings and the rest of the traffic becoming blurs of light. I could sense the vibration of the engine beneath me.
Like a dull hum.
My hair flew behind me like vermilion ribbons.
My heart raced like the bike, the danger of it—the thrill—the freedom and, most importantly, the trust I had in him to keep me safe.
The weather was taking a turn towards the winter so the wind was biting. I was glad for my jacket and the gloves Azul had given me or I would be freezing.
