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her sudden movement for rejection, Bishop moved to release her hands from his hold. She stopped him and curled her fingers, catching his. Before he could question her, and before stifling decorum could tie her back up, Stella led her hands to her chest. Switching the positions of their hands – his now on bottom and hers on top – she guided the biker along the curves and swells of her body.
     
    Against her ass, she felt his erection grow. Under his breath, Bishop let out a low, soft groan. His fingers twitched as Stella led them back up to her breasts. He couldn't believe she was doing this, and he refused to move, to make a sound, lest it frighten this facet of Stella away. The woman released one hand, allowing the biker to slip beneath her blouse and tease her hardened nipples through her bra. She led the other hand southward, her free hand working at the zipper and button of her work pants.
     
    Heat lit along Bishop's arms as he restrained himself from grabbing and squeezing roughly. He wanted nothing more to dominate the situation and manhandle the fiery woman giving him access to her body. He wanted to make her scream, writhe, and wriggle beneath his hands. He wanted to hear his name on her breath and on her screams of delight.
     
    Stella's chest heaved with heavy breaths and soft groans as Bishop groped her tits. Her breasts prickled with pleasure, her nipples tight and raw against the fabric of her brassiere. His cock strained against his pants, wanting to plant itself between her ass cheeks. Desire burned in her core, and it flamed in his.
     
    Then, Stella's prompted his hand down, down, down. It took Bishop's foggy, hormone-drenched mind to realize what his hand crept toward. He swallowed his excitement as his fingertips brushed past her damp panties to her hot, wet, swollen sex. The woman bucked under his fingers, even before the digits slicked between her lips. Stella arched her back; Bishop's calloused fingers made her body hot and her nerves tingle. Her pants slowly slid downward, her ass bare pressed against his rough jeans and still sheathed erection.
     
    “Shit, you're really wet,” the man growled appreciatively into her ear, retracting his hand from her chest. Stella didn't notice. He couldn't hold back any longer. Her wet pussy shattered his minor restraint. His slicked fingers expertly teased around her clit, the sensitive nub throbbing with intense pleasure. Excitement coursed down her body and doubled as she heard the hiss of his zipper. Hot and thick, his cock slid against her pussy.
     
    Bishop gave a shuddering groan and his erection twitched. Wet and hot, her sex coaxed the man to dive in and lose himself completely. Stella moaned, rocking her hips back and forth along his length. Bishop's self-control deteriorated rapidly.
     
    Everything in her mind was a hot, muddled mess. All Stella knew was she wanted Bishop inside her; her pussy clenched and her nipples throbbed at the thought. Especially the way his fingers rubbed and pinched at her clit, sending storms of pleasure across her body. Her core tightened eagerly for him. She gyrated her hips, enjoying his hardness pressed against her swollen lips. Every time his head pushed between her lips, he pushed a little further into her soaked recesses, Stella moaned and arched her back. Her pussy pulsed around his cock, as if trying to tempt him.
     
    Bishop took his time, though. He slid his cock back and forth against her pussy, savoring the heat and friction. The desire to have her whimper, to plead and beg, reared in his mind. He could wait, he could wait. Yet, every time Stella moaned and mewled, gasped and shuddered, the biker had to choke down the urge to ram into her. To bury his throbbing cock, balls deep, into the pretty little fed braced against the wall.
     
    With one of his hands still teasing her swollen clit and the other in her hair, Bishop tugged her head back. The woman obliged, breathing heavy, a red flush burning at her cheeks.