Chasing the slipstream, p.16
CHASING THE SLIPSTREAM, page 16
“Second option’s the safest, baby.”
Safe? Ava wasn’t sure of that. To keep on kissing Rowan would ruin her. But Ava had always had a tiny love for the thrill of danger.
She felt Rowan’s heartbeat under her palm as she rested her hands on his chest, and for a second, an eternity, she looked into his eyes and watched how lust morphed into something more vulnerable—intimate, almost.
And she didn’t want that. Couldn’t possibly want that.
Everything was so confusing.
So, to clear her mind, she locked her lips with his.
It seemed like Rowan had read her overbearing thoughts as he let his tongue stroke against hers, punishing her with a kiss that left her moaning softly whilst rocking her hips against his.
She felt him grow even harder. The sheer size of him pressing against the inside of her thigh caused arousal to pool inside her underwear.
She felt his fingers trail on the back of her thighs, creating a sequence of shivers in their wake. He pushed her skirt up to her hips, keeping his hands there to guide her against his erection. Bucking his pelvis upwards, he rutted into her, causing her to gasp, and moan, and writhe.
“Fuck,” he groaned. His hands were touching her everywhere, like her body was his favourite sculpture. She liked having his touch on her, as if his fingers could erase all her worries. “Keep those pretty sounds coming.”
“Don’t tell me what to do.”
He chuckled before letting his hand slip towards her front, his fingers pressing against her clit. “Only you would get into an argument with me whilst I try to finger-fuck you.”
Her hips jerked when he started circling her clit. She straightened herself, allowing him to look where they were connected, and he groaned at the sight of her lace underwear, damp with arousal.
“You can’t stand the thought of having someone being able to handle your attitude, can you?” she asked, breathless.
Rowan’s smirk was all destruction. “Me? I have an attitude? You should see yours.”
“Oh, please,” she scoffed, “Don’t let me stop you from being the biggest drama queen to ever walk the paddock.”
“Good God, woman,” Rowan muttered, pushing her panties to the side. He cursed when he saw her bare, gleaming, ready for him. The pad of his middle finger touched her clit, and she sighed in pleasure. She threw her head back, a quiet moan stuck in her throat when he coated his fingertip with her arousal and spread it over her core. “I’m trying to fuck you. Just shut up.”
Ava couldn’t respond when he started circling her clit, putting the perfect amount of pressure that left her heaving bated breaths. Her fingers fisted his shirt as she pressed her lips in a thin line, holding her pleasure in silence.
“I’m starving,” he stated huskily, his dark gaze travelling from her face, to her chest, to where he was touching her. “Sit on my face.”
Ava ceased—to move and breathe and think. “W-what?”
“I’m going to eat that pretty cunt of yours.” He grabbed the back of her thighs, nudging her towards his face.
“I—”
Rowan paused, frowning. “Has no one ever gone down on you before?” Pure concern was now etched on his face.
“Twice. It wasn’t necessarily good, but—”
Fingers dug into the flesh of her bottom. “The very instant my tongue lands on your clit, baby, you’ll forget about those idiots who haven’t been able to make this an enjoyable experience for you. In fact, I intend to erase the memory of every man you’ve had before me.”
Ava scoffed. “You’re overly confident.”
“Have you met me? I always am. And I keep my promises. Come here.”
Ava swallowed, and Rowan’s face softened.
“Wait. Shit.” Gently, he pulled her in to level her face to his. He pecked her lips once. Twice. A few times to ease her. “Are you okay with all of this?”
Ava could only nod, going in for another soothing kiss.
“Words, sunflower.”
She pulled back just enough to look into dark eyes shining with so many emotions—ruination, admiration, lust, and desire.
“Yes.”
“Good. Now come. On my face, preferably.”
Once her thighs were bracketed on either side of his face, he didn’t waste a second to latch his mouth to her clit.
Ava cried out, a wave of pleasure taking control of her body.
He groaned. “You taste so sweet. Like heaven.”
Throwing her head back, she closed her eyes as she let herself enjoy this foreign sensation of pleasure. Her fingers tangled through his curls, pulling softly at the roots.
She could feel him smirk whilst he tried to push her against his mouth, the gruffness of his beard tickling her flesh.
“I’m going to suffocate you,” she protested, nails scraping his scalp. He moaned at the sensation, the vibration sending a jolt of intense pleasure through her core.
“Good.” She was now riding his face, his tongue flat against her core, its languid strokes making the moment last. “I’d die a happy man with my head buried between your thighs.”
Ava had always been self-conscious about her thighs—her whole physique, actually—but the way Rowan worshipped her silently by running his hands everywhere, as though he wanted to ingrain the route of her curves into the back of his mind, made her forget about all her worries.
She bit on her lower lip when his mouth wrapped around her clit to suck on it before he went back to devouring her with abandon, tongue lapping fiercely against her wet folds.
“Rowan,” she gasped just as he gripped her bottom, fingers digging into her skin. He was holding her exactly where she wanted him to be.
“Ride my face, baby.” Her hips rolled in tandem with the rapid motions of his tongue, eyes shut closed as she enjoyed every second of this moment. “Good girl. So hot.”
His words, the way he praised with both his voice and hands, caused her stomach to clench.
One of Rowan’s hands trailed up her stomach until it reached her chest, fingers palming her breast through the flimsy fabric of her bra. When he pinched her taut nipple between his thumb and forefinger, he groaned shamelessly.
Ava leaned back, bracing herself by placing her palms on his firm thighs, causing Rowan to grunt again, as if encouraging her to continue rolling her hips against his flat tongue.
“I’m close,” she announced breathlessly.
She felt him smirk, then he went back to stroking her clit, humming like he was satisfied. Ava was a writhing and moaning mess, rocking her hips against his mouth, seeking the pinnacle of pleasure.
He tugged the cup of her bra down to properly play with her hard nipple, switching between rolling the bud between his fingers and palming her breast, testing its weight and fisting the full flesh.
The weight of his other hand left her backside, and she opened her eyes just to see him adjust himself in his pants.
And before she could do anything about it, she felt her legs shake, her core clenching as she reached her high.
“Fuck,” she cried out, falling forward to grab his head again. Her body spasmed as white stars blinded her vision. Rowan’s tongue kept lapping over her clit, and he moaned with her when she tugged at his hair, her cries of pleasure filling the small room. “Rowan.”
He didn’t remove his mouth as she rode through her orgasm, not stopping until she stilled, trembling.
Ava blinked at the ceiling as she listened to her heavy breaths. Pushing herself up on her knees, fingers passing gently through his hair, she looked down at Rowan, only to see him looking up, grinning like the devil. His lips and chin were coated in her arousal, and he had never looked so good.
“You’re fucking unbelievable,” was all he said as he observed her catching her breath.
Ava fell forward as he adjusted her underwear before cupping her face. He pulled her in to kiss her softly—too softly—and she moaned at the taste of herself on his lips.
Rowan’s fingertips dug into her skin as he tilted her head, obliging her to look into his dark eyes. That gleam around his pupils promised destruction. Power. And under that magnetising touch, she was simply defenceless.
“Say that again,” he seethed, the pad of his thumb brushing over her lower lip. She knew he was referring to the comment she had made earlier.
But she couldn’t even voice her thoughts. Couldn’t move out of his punishing grip. She was still trying to catch her breath, her mind spiralling with memories of him—his demanding lips, his rough hands, his dirty words.
Pulling her in, he let his hand slide until it bared her throat, thumb pressing into the side of her neck. He smirked when he felt her pulse quicken. “Next time you see me interact with another woman, sunflower, you’re going to remember it was my head that was buried between your thighs tonight. Say once more that you’re nothing compared to these girls, and I promise I’ll fuck and ruin you until you put into that head of yours that it’s you that I want.”
“Okay,” she whispered after a moment of staring at him, utterly speechless by his confession. “Thank you.”
Rowan Emerson wanted her.
He chuckled. “Thank you.” When she reached down between them to cup his throbbing erection, he whimpered, but caught her wrist before she could rub her hand against it. “Not today.”
“But I want to.”
“I know. But I don’t expect anything in return. All I wanted was to make you come. Besides, it’s been so long, and I know I’ll last a total of thirty seconds, and my ego can’t handle that. I’ll jerk off in the shower later tonight, though. You better believe me when I say I’ll come with your name on my tongue and think of how pretty you looked riding my face.”
Ava felt her cheeks burn up, so she hid her face in the crook of his neck, inhaling his addictive scent. His laugh echoed as he caressed her back, coaxing and tender. “The mouth you have, Emerson.”
He kissed her cheek, her jaw, her neck, then slapped her bum. “You haven’t heard anything yet.”
Being in his arms after experiencing such a high—possibly the best one she’d had yet—was more comforting than she cared to admit. Calm. Natural. Easy. She found herself basking and lingering in the moment, wishing it wouldn’t end. Wishing things weren’t so complicated and confusing.
His lips came in contact with her ear, and she shivered again. “Will you let me drive you home now?”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
📍BAKU, AZERBAIJAN
Ava’s heart battered furiously as she watched the twenty drivers warm up their tyres during the formation lap.
It was warm yet windy in Baku, and she knew the race would be tricky and physical, especially on this circuit which was known to have a mixture of wide and open, tight and twisty turns.
Primavera Racing had struggled during free practices on Friday as both drivers had to find a perfect balance between downforce in the twisty corners and less dragging in the straight lines. Ava had watched both Rowan and Thiago be frustrated with their performance, their car, and their team. Both teams of mechanics had spent Friday night working on the cars, and qualifying had gone better than expected. Rowan had qualified third and Thiago fourth.
Ava adjusted her headphones as she watched the five red lights come to life one by one. Four seconds later, the lights went out, and the cars started in sync.
Rowan had a good start, slotting in between Huxley and Beaumont, claiming P2 with a mere push on the throttle. While chaos unravelled at the end of the grid where there was contact between two cars, Ava was unimpressed by this typical first lap incident, caused by too many cars driving side by side into the corner.
The yellow flag was brandished then because debris was scattered on the track.
Ava watched the board on the left side of the screen where the drivers’ names were, hiding her smile at the sight of Rowan behind the race leader.
“Come on, mate,” Tate said. “Show ‘em what you’ve got and how good those three weeks of break were to you.”
On the eighth lap, DRS was open for Rowan, but no matter how hard he tried to chase Miles, the Imperium car was fast. Miles slipped away, but it was evident Rowan wanted to fight.
He was ruthless in his driving style. Skilled in a way that left Ava speechless, breathless as he took tight corners, handling his car with such precision that the front wing never came in contact with the walls.
Rowan now had Thiago on his tail. Maybe Primavera Racing would make a double podium at the end of the fifty-one-lap race.
On lap fifteen, Ava frowned as she noticed the gap between Rowan and Miles increase.
The exchange between Rowan and his race engineer, Jamie, resonated through her headphones.
“The engine braking is not good,” Rowan complained.
“Understood,” Jamie said. “Keep pushing.”
“That’s what I’m trying to do.”
“How’s tyre management?”
“They’re fine. I’ve got grip.”
“Good. Full push now.”
Rowan had just pitted and changed his set of medium tyres to hard ones. With fresh rubbers on that shouldn’t degrade rapidly, he was hoping to finish the race with those compounds.
He was currently chasing Charlie Beaumont, Huxley’s teammate, who had managed to steal his position whilst he had boxed.
Ava was gnawing on her bottom lip when she observed Rowan chase after Charlie. Despite the hard tyres’ resistance, they were less performant, rendering the race to be more challenging for Rowan. Braking late after the straight line, he didn’t seem to be complaining any longer about the engine brake and slipped on the inside of the corner. Wheel to wheel, their front wings were centimetres away from touching. Charlie couldn’t do anything but yield and give his position to Rowan.
“Yes!” Tate hollered, pumping a fist in the air.
Cheers erupted around the garage, and Ava clapped.
He was back to being P2.
There were only ten laps left when Rowan started slowing down.
“Is he losing power?” Tate whispered to Ava.
“Shh,” she said, smacking his chest.
“Engine brake is shitty again,” Rowan grumbled through the radio.
“Understood. Keep pushing to finish the race.”
“I’ve got it.” Ava could hear the frustration in his tone.
“Let Thiago through. Team order.”
Ava shook her head, sighing. The atmosphere in the garage shifted drastically when everyone realised what was happening.
“Fuck,” Rowan said. “Sorry.”
One second later, Thiago was in front, Rowan on his teammate’s tail and trying to keep his pace.
Charlie wasn’t far away now.
And when Rowan turned too widely in corner fourteen, Charlie slipped through, gaining one position.
Rowan was P4.
Ava only had the chance to hand Rowan his water bottle, without receiving so much as a glance in response, before he turned on his heel and walked through the paddock. Anger and deception emanated from his demeanour like a tempest ready to strike anyone who dared to cross his path. Ava knew it was best not to say anything right now.
He got away from her, went into his room, and slammed the door, causing the walls to rattle.
Ava sighed, hand on the doorknob, hesitant. Tate, who had been following, rubbed her back gently.
“I’ve got him. I don’t want him to say the wrong thing to you because he’s angry right now.”
She blinked up at Tate, heart pounding as she glanced around, surveying the empty corridor. “Is it wrong that I want to comfort him? Instead of telling him what to say to the reporters?”
“It’s okay. It shows how big your heart is. Caring for him is okay.”
“Is it, though?” she whispered.
“You’re a good person,” Tate said with a smile. “You’re good for sticking around even during his worst moments. He and Ellie got along quite well, but she used to leave him with his burden and let him deal with it alone.”
Ava wasn’t sure what to reply, so she stayed silent, only gaping at the tall man before her. Did he know about what they—she—had done the time Rowan punched the wall?
Tate rubbed the back of his neck, exhaling. “You know how he is. He’s going to beat himself up for his mistake. Just give him a few minutes to cool down before going in and starting the PR debrief.”
She only nodded, taking a step back to allow Tate to enter the driver’s room.
All she could do as she waited was to wish she had been brave enough to follow Rowan inside the walls that tended to cage his pain, and to hold him through that turbulent storm of anger.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
📍BAKU, AZERBAIJAN
Rowan never talked about it to anyone, but today, he felt like his panic was suffocating him. Like the world, and the people, and the media were trying to choke him. Drowning him under all that guilt that was destroying him.
It was so hard, so painful, when he felt like everything was his fault—well, it was his fault. That result was because of him. That missed podium was because of his own mistakes.
And even when his entourage kept cheering him on, kept telling him he had done great, he couldn’t help but feel like he wasn’t enough.
It was only when he was alone in his hotel room that he decided it was okay to let his smile fall and unwelcome tears escape. It was then that his lungs felt tight, and his head started spinning. It was then that he punched his pillow, furious at being so stupid.
And it was when he read his father’s messages that he cried in frustration, wondering when the hell he would be enough and good in the eyes of his parent. Perhaps never. And Rowan had to live with that.
When his breaths became even and the fog inside his mind cleared, he regained composure and changed into his swimming shorts. He knew the pool had closed hours ago, and it made everything better for him to know he’d be alone.
