He closes the blinds a half an inch more than they were already closed, the sunlight stealing through the slats, cutting lines of light across his handsome face.
“Racer, someone can come in and I’ll be naked,” I warn.
He clucks, and I know he locked the door, but still …
“Whoever does decide to come in here is a very, very stupid and unlucky man.”
I laugh at his protectiveness and arch my back against his hand, which is now rubbing the inside of my thigh, dangerously close to my pussy. Yet so far away at the same time.
He looks sinfully hot in his tight black undershirt and racing suit with the sleeves tied at his hips. His blazing blue eyes pinning me down to the desk and his hot mouth begging me to kiss it.
He leans down towards me and kisses me deeply, stroking the inside of my mouth with his tongue, “You’re so gorgeous,” he tells me right before I feel a finger push inside me. I moan, pretty loudly, against his mouth and he just takes this as further invitation to keep doing what he’s doing. He brings my legs up so that my feet are on the edge of the desk, with my knees spread apart framing him in between. His finger pumps in and out of me and I can feel him hitting the sweetest spot.
Hitting it every single time.
I can’t control my noises at this point as I move my hips against his hand. His fingers leave me and I look up to see him take his glistening middle and index finger and put them in his mouth, sucking them and looking at me possessively.
I vaguely hear him say “yummy” before he sticks them back inside me, this time giving it to me faster and harder. Just when I’m about to come he stops and takes a step back.
“Racer, are you serious!” I half-heartedly protest.
He smirks and kisses the inside of my thigh. “Let me do what I want. I promise you’ll love it.”
He strips off until he’s all naked except for his tight white boxers, which are basically ripping at the seams with his erection.
My heartbeat stalls as I take him in, all muscle, tanned golden skin, with a face so strikingly beautiful it would make any angel fall in love, and every devil fall in lust.
This time, when he comes back to me, he falls to his knees, wrapping his arms around my thighs.
My breath and my heart both stop when I realize what he’s about to do and my only thought is holy fucking shit.
Something tells me this man can please a woman like none other and I don’t even know if I’m ready for what he wants to give.
“I … Racer, are you sure you want to … right now, I mean we’re …”
He looks up at me with his beautiful, dangerous blue eyes. Which right now look like they are on fire with need, turning a deep dark hungry blue.
“I’ve wanted to do this ever since I saw you step into the elevator wearing your little pink skirt and wearing your little racing hat and I knew I wanted you spread out in front of me, just like this, with my head buried between your legs and you screaming out my name.”
He stops and reaches out to squeeze my waist, planting a kiss by my bellybutton, rubbing his nose back and forth against my skin and then groaning, “Please let me do this to you.”
If I was wet before, I am soaking now, and I have never wanted anything more than him to do just that.
I nod and spread my legs further and he gives me a little smile, flashing me his dimple, as he dips his head.
I expect him to go right to it but instead he turns his head and licks the point where my inner thigh joins my pelvis, right where my panty lines go.
My body joints at the feel of his hot wet tongue on the sensitive skin there. I moan a little and grip the edges of the desk.
He kisses and sucks there, and I hear him murmur devilishly, a gruff tone, “I think this is where I’ll give you your hickey …”
I can’t even laugh at that because it feels so good I am nothing but sensations.
His tongue on my skin, his hands gripping my hips, his hair grazing my stomach, my back touching the mahogany wood below me, my hair dangling down the edge of the desk, my nipples hard against the cool air.
He switches to my other leg, and start to lick and suck along my hip and inner thigh. It’s so close to my clit I want to scream with frustration but I also never want him to stop.
Just when I think I can’t take another second he moves closer to where I want him to go and starts to lick my outer lips, stopping occasionally to suck a little bit when he finds a spot he likes.
I’m dying at this point and he hasn’t even done anything to me directly.
He slips a finger inside and I do just what he wants me to. I say his name. Really loud.
His tongue starts to lick from where his finger is to my clit and I arch my back, losing all control at the feel of it.
I look down to see his manly hand wrapped around one of my legs, his dark head of hair bent down over me, nestled between my open legs, his lips wrapping around me, sucking, releasing, kissing, licking, and then repeating—I’ve never seen anything so hot in my life.
He looks like he’s eating chocolate cake.
He spreads my legs out even more and keeps slowly fucking me with his finger, his mouth basically making out with my clit.
He’s just as into this as I am and that makes me even hotter as I feel myself getting so close to the edge. My muscles clench and release against his fingers. I gasp and shake. I feel vulnerable and just as if he can read my mind, I feel his other hand gently pry my fingers off the edge of the desk so that he can hold my hand.
Meanwhile his face is buried between my legs, making me feel my blood pulse harder and my heart race.
I can’t take it anymore and I arch my back as I come with a scream, my legs shaking and my muscles clenching.
He stays there and kisses me softly before standing up and looking at me with his deep blue eyes, his chin wet with my juices, and the sight makes me melt.
He is so damn sexy I don’t even know who could create such a being.
I suddenly crave him closer. I need his kiss, so I wrap my legs around his hips and bring him to me, opening my arms up to him like a child, letting him know I need him here.
He bends down and embraces me completely, enveloping me in his warmth. He kisses my neck and showers kisses along my collarbones, my jawline, and then my mouth.
“Please fuck me,” I beg.
I already came but I need him inside me. Now. More than ever.
He swiftly takes off his boxers and slowly pushes inside me, stretching me out and filling me up so much I feel like he’s going to pop put of my stomach.
I gasp because he feels so good. He wraps his arms around me and holds me up at an angle before he starts to slide in and out of me. And it feels so good, hitting just the right spot, I basically come again. He pounds in and out of me and I tilt my head back, unable to control my moans.
He lays me back down on the desk, bringing my hips right to the edge and then wrapping my legs around his shoulders. Then he leans forward a bit, bringing my legs towards my chest, and thrusts deeper and I scream his name again because he is in so deep I don’t even know if I can take it.
His jaw clenches as he keeps pounding into me, little beads of sweat glistening on his collarbones.
I gasp, “God, Racer, I’m there …”
He starts to pound faster and I come, clenching around him, my body pulsating after my release. He scoops me up in his arms and sits down on a leather chair by the window, completely enveloping me in his warmth, his mouth whispering sweet things into my ear. That he’s crazy about me, that nothing turns him the fuck on like me …
It’s then I realize his erection is still pulsing fiercely against my bottom and I look up at him, confused.
“Tate … did you not? Why didn’t you finish?” I ask, confused and breathless, and before I can have a complete freak-out thinking I had done something terribly wrong he just smirks, flashing me that sexy dimple of his and he says, “I’m denying myself until I finish the race. I
want to be pumped up and full of adrenaline—and amped to take on the Clarks.”
He then plants a warm kiss on my breast. “And nothing gets me riled up as much as you do.” He winks.
Wow. My mouth hangs open. I simply cannot believe this man has the willpower to fuck me senseless, give me multiple orgasms, and then not let himself finish—all so that he can use all that pent-up energy on the race track.
“Are you for real?” I laugh.
“I’m fucking high on you. On how fucking amazing it is to be me.” He pulls out of me—his dick so thick, long and hard that I can trace the bulging veins running up his throbbing length—and he maneuvers it into his boxers and zips up his racing suit, cracking his neck from side to side. “I’m never coming down from this high.”
“Is that right?” I say, giggling as I watch him.
“That’s right,” he assures, giving me a wolfish grin.
I laugh, giddy.
Sighing, I ease up to a sit, fixing myself up too.
He starts coming over, grasping the back of my head and murmuring at the top of my ear. “You look good enough to eat,” he rasps, sliding his hand over my cheek and pressing his smiling lips to my jaw. He nibbles on me.
“Racer … Racer 2.0 …” I giggle and moan. Lately he just seems like Racer Tate on steroids. A version of him in double the intensity (if that’s even possible) … Racer 2.0.
“Yeah,” he croons, and he starts to kiss me, and I can tell he needs me, that he wants to come inside me so bad, because his kiss is crazy hot.
My lips swell, and it’s a good swell. A great swell. And my heart follows. Something in my chest shudders and grows. I know deep in my gut that something isn’t quite right. He’s a little sexy and reckless and crazy right now, being more territorial, more demanding, tireless. I’m not supposed to like him like this, but the truth is that I do. I should be concerned, making sure he’s okay, but he’s so sexy and charming … and happy. I love seeing him so happy, and it’s impossible not to get caught up in it … in him.
He makes me want him more, want to have him and protect him, and be there for him when he needs me because I always seem to need him.
I embrace him to me and kiss his dimple, whispering, “You’re okay, Racer?” and peering into his gorgeous face.
And gosh, it’s a gorgeous face. Wearing the most gorgeous dimpled grin.
He pecks my lips as he helps me to my feet, his eyes roaming over me, looking at me in a really sexy and territorial way, and I run my fingers along my inside upper thigh, touching the hot little hickey he left me as he says, “Yeah,” keeping his glinting blue eyes on me for a long time.
I watch him finally charge out as if he’s on steroids, and I drop my hand from the mark. It’s a small mark, really, compared to the chunks he keeps biting off my heart.
Racer
I’m simmering with energy, my dick hard as rock after stopping myself from blowing up inside my warm, wet Lana. I’m ready to prove myself to the Heyworths. To her. It’s me against 22 assholes, all with fast as fuck cars.
It’s hard to pass in this track—twists and turns like a rollercoaster, the moment we get green flag, the track’s got my heart pumping and my lungs working like mad. Every one of my muscles is engaged as I twist and turn, accelerate and brake.
The Clark’s #2 driver tries to push me off the track when I try to pass him, and I spin and take a few seconds to regain control. I pull back onto the track, losing position. My anger mounts, and suddenly I’m shifting gears and charging back after him.
“Car ok?” Clay asks.
“Yeah, I think so but it’s fucked up in the straight.”
“Shit. Use your talent.”
“Hell I am.”
I try to recover my place, and it takes me a full lap to get back behind P2.
I’m biding my time, upshifting as I get closer, aiming my nose cone at the gearbox behind Clark’s #2 driver car.
No one fucks with me—and gets away with it.
I narrow my eyes, my heartbeat slow and steady.
My car rumbles down the straightaway, the wheel shuddering in my hands, the seat vibrating from the power. I stay on point. If the nose hits a moving part, like a wheel, it’ll fly off and I’ll get fucked. And yeah, that’s not the point.
If our wheels lock, we’ll spin and crash. Maybe even flip.
That’s not the point either.
Eyes narrowed as I aim, I aim for the gearbox, outbrake him, and touch my nose to his gearbox and take him out—I watch as dust flies behind him and he spins off the track. Arrivederci, fucker …
I upshift and push forward and watch, through my rearview mirror, as he tries to recover and pass me; his aim fails. His nose touches my wheels, and I flip him. The car flips and flies across the track.
“Holy shit,” I hear on the radio. “You all right?”
“Dandy.”
I smile and approach a heavy braking turn, after P1.
This car’s got a lot of torque—torque is acceleration power, and horsepower is velocity. When you’ve got both of these working for you, you’re flying.
“There’s a yellow flag of caution. Debris on track.”
“Got it.”
A yellow light is flashing at the wheel. We all need to slow down—we cannot pass until we get green again.
We drive around for two laps and green flashes.
I jump the green flag, accelerating to full speed and jumping the start without being too obvious or I get a pit drive-through penalty.
I wait to see if I get away with it, I think I do. I upshift and hear myself growl and narrow my eyes at Clark up ahead.
Oh yeah, I’m coming for you.
Lana
“That move, damn I get hard thinking about it,” Clay laughs.
“Clayton,” I chide.
Drake comes and smacks a kiss on my cheek. “Epic, Lainie baby. He took Clark the fuck out!”
“It was risky,” I say, frowning at Racer.
He shrugs, sipping on a dark coffee after dining by our motorhome at the track.
“What’s up with you and Clark,” Clay asks.
“We’re competitors,” Drake says, “You know that.”
I wait for a moment, and Racer finally speaks, in a growl, “He wants what’s mine.”
My brothers’ brows rise simultaneously, and I expect them to say something but oddly enough, no one says a word. Not even Drake.
Right then, Clark enters the tent.
“Lainie, you got one of those for me?” He reaches out to obnoxiously steal the bottled water I was sipping from.
Before my brothers can blink and in shocking, fluid lightning-fast speed that I’d never seen on a guy before, Racer is on his feet, snatching back the water and stepping in before Clark and me.
“You touch her or anything of hers again, I’m breaking your hand,” I hear him warn in a chillingly cold voice, reaching behind us to put it back on the table before me.
I peer past his body to notice how Clark sort of turns bright red all over as Racer stares him down.
“Try driving with a bad hand. Your career will be over. You’re fucking over,” Racer adds in a cold and menacing tone. I can tell that he means it—and it sends warning little frissons down my spine.
I notice that my brothers’ eyes are wide with a mix of respect, shock, and admiration, but I, on the other hand, am weak in the knees. Something about the way Racer is standing, staring Clark down, the way the entire air seems to burn around him, makes me react.
Nobody’s ever stepped up to me like he does—and while a part of me is thrumming to reach out and kiss him in thank you, another wants to calm down the volcano before it erupts.
I reach out and put my hand on his, and Racer’s shoulders relax slightly, his nostrils flaring as he takes my hand firmly in his grip and leads me down the track.
“What are you doing? If it had been any earlier the TVs could’ve captured that …!” I cry, eyeing his handsome, frowning profil
e in disbelief. “What? You’re going to get ready to beat everyone who’s a jerk to me?”
“That’s the plan.”
“No, that’s not the plan. The plan is you ignore them. We don’t make a scene.” I smile over the primitive possessive gleam in his eye, but my smile fades to worry. “Are you okay?”
He notices my concern, and his shoulders relax even more as he says, “Yeah,” and he smiles and leans his head to me, and pecks my lips, and I want the kiss so much that I almost break when my body bends in an arch for more.
“Racer,” I breathe. I want you, I need you, you turn me on.
I part my lips, and he steals his tongue inside as if knowing what I need.
“Are you wet, Lana?”
“Yes,” I breathe.
“Wet for me.” He drags his lips against mine, breathing harshly, his body coiled tight and hard against mine as he keeps seductively dragging his lips along mine, both parted, our breaths mingling, my whole body tittering on the edge of losing control.
“Yes,” I breathe. “Touch me, please Racer.”
“Get in my car.”
He looks at me, and I open my mouth to keep ranting, but our eyes lock and I can see the wild jealousy in his eyes as he looks at me.
I climb in the passenger seat, and he climbs behind the wheel, and it’s another convertible. He lowers the top, and the wind flaps on my hair, making me close my eyes as the wind hits me and he blasts the music—Animal by Def Leppard—on the stereo.
He sets his hand on my thigh, and it takes all my effort not to pull it up between my legs and ask him to touch me there. “You have my father to thank for my amazing music taste,” he says.
“Oh. Thank you, Racer’s dad.” I grin.
He grins back.
He’s still looking edgy and restless, and very, very hot.
He screeches down each turn, leaving skid marks behind us and making me feel like I’m on a roller coaster until he parks us at a lone spot where there are plenty of trees as cover, and he climbs out fast, then he comes to open my door and guides me to the clearing. I lie down on a flat spot on the grass and thrum inside when he lowers himself above me. I’m hungry, panting, and Racer grabs my face and presses his mouth down on mine, groaning when I open.