Lynette was a pervert through and through. Every night, she dreamed of a man who would come ravish her. It was unfortunate that everywhere that she went she maintained an “innocent” image. When a man riding a black motorcycle comes to town, though, all bets are off. If the man isn’t going to hunt her, then she’s going to hunt him. After all, she’s always been a biker babe.
Lynette had always had an attraction to motorcycles. They were sleek, they were sexy, and they were powerful. Once, when she was walking by a black Ducati, she swore that she came straight into her pants despite the fact that the rider was a fifty-something man with a beer gut and a tattoo. If a man had a bike, then to her, he was instantly more attractive.
It was unfortunate, then, that everyone had always classified her as the resident good girl. Ever since she was small, she was known at naïve and innocent. It was as if she had some sort of magical “innocent” power. She walked into the locker room, and the girls stopped talking about their “good times.” She went on a date, and she had three hours of arm’s length walking to enjoy.
But little did the world know that Lynette was a bad girl. A very, very bad girl.
At the age of thirteen, she had read through ever, single sex book in the library. She had hid them underneath her bed when her mother wasn’t looking, so that way her parents—who were actually naïve and innocent, unlike her—didn’t know. She didn’t have a problem with sex, but it seemed that sex just had a problem with her.
That was why, as she walked home from her shift at a local restaurant at the age of twenty, she practically had started salivating as she caught sight of the man in the parking lot. He had a night black motorcycle that she would be writing in her dirty diary about later, and he had dark black hair and day growth on his chin. When he smiled, his eyes glowed a bright green and sparkled. He was like what he rode: sleek, sexy, and powerful. She wanted him. She wanted him bad.
Immediately she imagined herself shaking out her brunette hair, which was long and curly, as she straddled the man before her. She would do all of the sexy dance moves that she knew, working out her long, lean body in a way that no one else thought that she could. Oh yes, Lynette was ready.
As she ogled the bike and the man riding it, he swung his leg expertly over the side of it and headed inside to the restaurant. Damn, she thought. I wonder if my boss would let me wait on him…just him. I would give him a meal that he wouldn’t forget. She looked behind her, making sure that he was out of the perimeter. She really wanted to touch that bike, so when she broke out her special toys tonight she would know exactly what to imagine.
About the Author:
Penelope Rivers is an erotic novelist of romance novels and short stories. A hopeless dreamer, she spends her day thinking about all things fantasy, romantic and hot. It is her view that when you start choking on the occasionally dry bread of life, you need something sinfully delicious to chase it down with. Currently, she lives in Utah with an abnormal amount of pets.