Ride to Ecstasy Read online

  Dare to seek your pleasure zone…

  When Carah takes a bad fall from her motorcycle, more than her body tumbles to the ground. Fear and insecurity take over her life, leaving no room for her lover, Vaughn, so it’s no surprise when he hits the road. Night after lonely night she aches for his touch. In desperation, she channels her needs into a creative venture—a daring new sex toy. It’s not Vaughn, but it’s the next best thing.

  Vaughn never wanted to leave Carah, but his efforts to help her regain her self-confidence only made things worse. For six months he’s let her be rather than become the bad guy, but he can’t get her out of his head. Maybe it’s time to find out if there’s a chance she’ll let him make it up to her.

  All he has to do is convince her to get on the back of his bike, and their romance will come roaring back to life. If it doesn’t crash and burn…

  Warning: This story has steamy hot sex on a motorcycle, creative use of sex toys, and a sex-toy bike. Batteries not included.

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  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Samhain Publishing, Ltd.

  577 Mulberry Street, Suite 1520

  Macon GA 31201

  Ride to Ecstasy

  Copyright © 2010 by Ann Cory

  ISBN: 978-1-60504-966-3

  Edited by Heidi Moore

  Cover by Ann Cory

  All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: March 2010

  www.samhainpublishing.com

  Ride to Ecstasy

  Ann Cory

  Dedication

  For my husband. Our love has been a wild ride and each day an adventure.

  Chapter One

  Carah’s heels clacked along the parquet floor as she hurried to answer the phone in her home office. And here she thought she’d be safe to use the restroom after two hours of dead silence. Fortunately she caught the phone before it went to voice mail.

  “Thank you for calling Ride to Ecstasy, Carah Lessard speaking.”

  Pen in hand, she grabbed an order form and scribbled down the potential client’s name. “Yes, we have several in stock at this time. Do you have a preference in color? Red is a personal favorite. Blue is the most popular, though you can’t go wrong with black. We also do custom colors if you’re interested.” Her last customer had requested fluorescent pink. While not Carah’s taste, she liked the daring choice.

  She straightened up the piles of paperwork on her desk and noticed the fern needed water as the woman pondered her options.

  “Blue? I’d say that’s an excellent choice, Ms. Carter. Let me get your address and payment information.”

  Carah shimmied her hips to celebrate another sale while she jotted the information down.

  “Okay, looks like I have everything on this end. Your order will be shipped out tomorrow, so expect it in three to five days. I know you’ll be more than satisfied. Thank you again for calling Ride to Ecstasy. Bye now.”

  She hung up and finished filling out the shipping part of the order receipt. She’d already sold seven sex-toy bikes this week and it was only Thursday. Her latest venture was taking off in directions she’d never expected. Business savvy, she’d been successful in bringing many of her pet projects to fruition. But this one was more personal. What started as a late-night fantasy had turned into a real-life passion. And she had her former flame, Vaughn, to thank.

  Ride to Ecstasy had originated on a night when she’d thought her burning need for Vaughn would drive her insane. Images of his rough-and-tumble style of sex had invaded her dreams. Not to mention his thick, muscled thighs encased in snug black leather pants and riding chaps. Or the way his large hands held her hips firmly when he fucked her ass. He’d been the first to take her there—a place she’d always thought forbidden. Afterwards she couldn’t believe how she’d ever done without it, and that particular night she’d craved his cock everywhere. Nothing she’d tried had helped to get him off her mind. A fire had been lit inside her and threatened to consume her in flames of desire if she didn’t do something to put it out. She’d ached for his touch and the sound of his voice. Would’ve screamed out his name into the night if she’d thought he’d hear. But he’d been long gone and she never expected to see him again.

  Regardless, the restless ache had grown so out of control she’d strapped a vibrator to her chair. With the setting on high, she’d ridden the vibrator until the chair broke. Still unsatisfied, she’d fingered her clit with violent determination. To help the release along she’d recalled the best sex she’d ever had—on Vaughn’s motorcycle. Hands down the most erotic experience of her life. When she’d climaxed, her body had bucked like a bronco and her high-pitched scream might very well have been heard for miles.

  She hated how much she still wanted him. How her body refused to let her forget his touch. How her mind equated satisfaction with the stroke of his cock, and his alone. He’d opened her up to a world of new sensations and not just in the area of sex.

  She’d developed a lust for riding motorcycles through him. At first she’d been content riding behind him, her arms wrapped around his solid body, palms pressed securely against his washboard abs. Once he taught her how to ride solo, an adventure-seeking hellion had been born. She’d immersed herself into the world of motorcycles and even started to dress the part.

  For her twenty-eighth birthday Vaughn had bought her a gorgeous red and silver beauty. With its sleek exterior, leather seat and petite-style handle bars she couldn’t wait to hit the open road with him.

  Life had been good. Frequent day trips to see waterfalls and nature parks had turned into long, sensuous weekends in out-of-the-way places they made their own. Her favorite time had been when they’d been caught in the rain. She remembered the way he’d pleasured her into oblivion with his mouth that day, while her fingers had tangled in the wet strands of his dark shoulder-length hair. He’d shown her a world she’d all but shied away from and she’d fallen more madly in love with him with each passing day.

  She loved the changes that had taken place inside her after that. The newfound confidence. The thrill of adventure with a man she adored.

  Until she’d crashed and burned. Somehow she’d lost control of the bike and within seconds her body had hit the pavement.

  Hard.

  Hard enough to knock the passion for life right out of her.

  Ten months later she still hadn’t found the nerve to get back on a bike. At least not one that was meant for the open road.

  She’d figured out a way to satisfy the need of being on a bike while taming her sexual urges, without leaving the safety of her home.

  Through contacts she’d made from her other businesses, Carah found someone to build sexy streamlined motorcycles that were safe and guaranteed maximum pleasure for women. The sex-toy bike was made on a solid platform to withstand weight and movement. Minus the engine, it resembled a motorcycle in every other way. The best parts were what couldn’t be seen at first glance.

  The seat itself vibrated. At the press of a button a dildo pushed through the seat to any length desired. Hand gears allowed full control of how fast it vibrated and thrust. A small soft knob at the front of the seat spun to stimulate the clit and had the ab
ility to pulse if preferred.

  An extra dildo was added toward the back for anal pleasure, or could be adjusted for a second rider. There were tiny compartments with nipple clamps, packets of lubrication and everything needed to keep the equipment and toys clean and sanitized.

  Her product tagline read: Feel the power between your legs. Take control. Dare to seek your pleasure zone. Ride to Ecstasy.

  At first she hadn’t thought the idea would appeal to anyone else but decided it was worth a shot. She made up flyers and advertised in local sex shops, online, in the newspaper and on the bulletin board in a motorcycle dealership. Word had spread quickly and within days she’d received fifteen orders. Since then she’d averaged eight a week. Comments on her website were off the charts. Clients were thrilled and satisfied.

  There was more she planned to do with the motorcycles. Create more attachments in different shapes and sizes. Make a DVD that simulated being on the open road for added realism, with or without music. She considered making it so the bike could move up and down for added pleasure. Her imagination went wild with all the possibilities. She wanted women everywhere to be content in their sex lives.

  If only she was.

  Carah checked the time and saw it was just after six. Work was done for the day, or at least work in her office. On her way to her art studio, she remembered the charcoal pencils she’d wanted for her sketches.

  She rummaged around out in the garage for the new pencil set she hadn’t bothered to unpack when she first moved in. It’d been a gift from her father before he passed away. He’d always encouraged her creativity. A trait Vaughn shared. In fact, they’d both been big, burly men with a lust for life and a heart of gold. Now she didn’t have either one around. Though with Vaughn, the blame lay solely on her shoulders.

  She started to head back into the house when she glanced over at the mangled mess of her motorcycle. It had taken a worse beating than her. She’d been lucky to have walked away with a fractured wrist, scrapes and bruises. Only the internal scars remained.

  Vaughn had offered many times to repair her bike, but she’d declined. If it remained broken she had an excuse for not being able to ride without admitting she was just plain scared. For awhile there he’d started to get on her case. Something she’d needed—a good swift kick in the ass to get over that last hurdle. But then he’d left before she had a chance to rally up the courage to try again. He’d said he had important things to take care of and ridden off.

  Six months later and she still hadn’t heard a word from him. Far as Carah knew, he’d grown tired of waiting for her to snap out of her funk. Or he’d found another woman to spend time with. What did she expect anyway? That he’d stop riding to make her feel better? It had been his passion long before she had come into the picture.

  She kept reminding herself there was a time before Vaughn. She hadn’t been lonely or unhappy. She’d been content to fill her days with one business project after another. Once again she’d thrown herself into work, but she’d been unsuccessful staving off the pang of loneliness. He’d left a permanent imprint in her heart.

  Carah’s stomach grumbled and she went back into the house. Her sketches could wait. She’d have a bite to eat and then throw on some mind-numbing movies until she fell asleep. Anything to get her mind off Vaughn and his turbo-charged touch.

  ***

  Vaughn Collins finished loading his gear onto the back of his motorcycle and strapped on his helmet. With his six-month construction stint completed, he wanted the hell out of dodge. Or at least out of Bellingham, Washington. It seemed an okay place, but he’d been too busy working to see much of what the area had to offer.

  Not one to be held down in an office environment, he took odd jobs here and there so he could spend the rest of the time cruising on his bike. This last one had been his longest and toughest job yet, with no real down time. Still, the pay suited his needs. The extra overtime amounted to the next eight months job free.

  He started up his bike and waited for the traffic to clear before pulling out onto the street. Vaughn considered stopping for a bite to eat as he passed a procession of fast-food joints, but couldn’t make up his mind on what to have All he wanted was to be back in Oregon. Back home. And hopefully back with Carah.

  Through all the sweat and sore muscles from the strenuous work, Carah never strayed far from his mind.

  He missed her more than he imagined any person could. Missed the silky feel of her long cinnamon brown hair. Missed staring into her luminous sea green eyes. And her provocative lips—all plump and heart-shaped could give him an instant erection. Man, he used to just watch those lips when she talked. Staring mesmerized. Of course, the thought of her womanly curves and supple skin didn’t help to get her off his mind either. His hands had never touched such softness. A vision to look at, Carah was the total package, inside and out.

  She was creative, beautiful and intelligent, a triple-threat combo that had snared his heart from the get-go. She wasn’t an easy one to figure out either. His little diamond in the rough as he called her. So many facets to her that he didn’t even know where to begin. On the surface she’d been shy, but it didn’t take long to crack that shell and unleash the wild woman inside.

  Oddly enough when they’d first gotten together, she’d claimed to hate motorcycles. Regarded them as big, noisy things and refused to ride with him. At one point he never would’ve bothered with a woman who didn’t share his love of riding, but the arrow had struck and she’d captured his heart. For months he’d found contentment in her company and spent most of his time beside her. He’d gone on a few day trips, but didn’t push her to go along.

  Slowly, she started to hint at wanting to find out what the big fuss was over riding a motorcycle. He’d made it clear she didn’t have anything to prove to him, and he’d meant it. Still she’d persisted until he’d taken her for a ride.

  Talk about night and day. After only an hour on the back of his bike, a vivacious vixen had emerged with a fierce passion for adventure. And that passion had carried over to the bedroom. She’d taken to dressing in naughty lingerie, buying various sex toys and was vocal on her desire to experiment. He didn’t really care how kinky things got. Vaughn just loved the feel of her warm flesh against his. He loved the taste of her sweet cream, and went nuts when he fucked her in the ass.

  The first time she’d asked him to take her there he’d thought he’d lose it within seconds inside her. He’d fought the orgasm for all it was worth, damned to be the first to come. She’d been so tight and virginal. So responsive. He’d enjoyed watching the way her beautiful ass pounded back into him. Reveled in her soft screams that rose in volume the closer she got to an orgasm. It had been the most intense climax he’d ever experienced.

  Most nights he’d made sure she had multiple orgasms. He could eat her out for hours, savoring her cream and watching her sinful body writhe beneath him. Around her he found himself with an almost constant erection. Just being with Carah was a trip in itself. He’d never tired of learning what brought her pleasure.

  After the accident, he’d watched that energetic sex kitten become withdrawn and it had crushed him. It was obvious she struggled with inner issues, but he didn’t know how to help. His attempts to soothe hadn’t worked. Neither had his efforts to cheer her up. He couldn’t fault her for being afraid to ride again—she’d taken a severe tumble. More than her ego had ended up bruised. But the days had turned into weeks, and the weeks into months. While not the most sensitive route, he’d tried to reason with her. He’d been in accidents before and gotten right back on. Hell, he’d fallen off the roof of a twelve-story building he’d been working on and suffered four broken bones. The second his doc had said he could work again, he’d been right back on that roof to finish the job. Though the story was meant to inspire, it hadn’t changed anything. Frustrated, he’d dumped the sensitive-boyfriend stuff and gone all alpha on her ass.

  Problem was, the more he’d pushed the more he’d felt lik
e a selfish asshole. So she needed more time, why push her? What was his real motivation? Was it more important that she rush into something she wasn’t ready for because it put a damper on his lifestyle? He’d been fine with the course their relationship had taken before she’d ever decided to ride. So what had changed? It all boiled down to him being in new territory, and his inability to help had made him feel like a failure.

  When he met Carah, he’d been a rambler. Enjoyed his solo trips, free to come and go as he pleased. Like his jobs, he wasn’t tied down to anything or anyone. Mister Free Agent. But since hooking up with Carah, he’d come to realize the added thrill of sharing adventure with someone else. Instead of sticking around where he’d eventually make her feel bad or pressured, he’d thought it best to leave. Let her heal at her own pace. About the same time the construction job in Washington had opened up and become the perfect distraction.

  While he hoisted and drilled steel beams, he’d come to a grim realization. He’d bailed on the woman he loved during her time of need. There was no other way to look at it. He’d been accused of being a jackass in the past, and clueless to the emotional needs of a woman. But he liked to think he’d matured some. Whether she ever talked to him again or not didn’t matter. Carah deserved an apology in person, and he planned to give her one. One thing he knew for certain, if some other guy had since come into the picture, he’d bash his face in first and ask questions later.

  Vaughn put on his signal and veered off the exit to get on Interstate 5 headed south. Eight hours to go. He’d ride all night if he had to.

  Chapter Two

  Carah flipped off the television, unable to lose herself in any of the movies. Restless, she skulked into her studio and worked on her sketches of crotchless outfits designed specifically for women to wear on the motorcycles. Soft, lightweight leather styles in both daywear and nightwear—for whenever the client chose to bring their fantasies to life. Her current design was of leather crotchless pants and a matching top that left the breasts propped up and exposed. Perfect for those who used nipple clamps, like herself.