Wrecked drive fast duet.., p.17
Wrecked (Drive Fast Duet #1), page 17
“Little girl, you’re fucking sexy kneeling at my feet.”
“You said I would get a reward. I'm cashing in.”
I run my hands up his legs until I reach the hard bulge tenting his pants. Grasping his hips, I lean in and place a kiss to his cock through his jeans before rubbing my face against him. I can smell his arousal through his jeans. A deep woodsy scent mixed with heady musk and engine oil has me dripping for him.
“Tell me how my racing turns you on.” I tilt my face upwards to look at him. His eyes are heavy as he stares down at me. His arms bulge as he grasps the ledge of the island telling me he is holding himself back.
His voice is husky with desire when he says, “You drive like I've never seen before. Natural talent that can’t be taught, but when I give instruction, you obey. It's so fucking hot. Something so simple, you listen to me—follow my orders, and I can't get enough of it. It calls to something deep inside me, something I've never known before. I’ve never experienced anything like it… until you.”
I run my fingers along the band of his pants before undoing the button and lowering his zipper. Commando, of fucking course. He’s like opening a present on Christmas morning. My excitement is heightened and desire pools deep in my core. I pull out his cock, running my hand along the soft skin. He trembles at my touch and a moan leaves his lips,
“Little girl, you were supposed to get the reward, not me.”
I run my tongue over his slit before answering. “What do you mean? This is exactly the reward I want.”
His head falls back as I continue to run my tongue along the side of his shaft, underneath, and then circling his tip. He looks down at me with hooded eyes as I lick around the sensitive flesh of his piercing.
“Fuck,” he groans.
I cup his sack gently before bringing my tongue to lave at them. Taking my time to explore every inch of him. I've always loved giving head. It's a common misconception that men hold the power in this position, towering over you with their dick in your face. But it's the woman who holds all the power with the ability to bring a man to his proverbial knees with just her tongue.
It's exhilarating.
“What turns me on the most is that they all watch you. You're beautiful and a skilled racer.” I'm so caught up in him that I forget what we were talking about. “They will never admit that they all secretly find you attractive. Their egos will never allow it. But my dick is hard because they can't have you. You are mine.”
His hands take purchase in my hair pulling, mindful not to hurt me. Only I want it hard, I want it to hurt.
I take him into my mouth running my flattened tongue underneath his shaft until he hits the back of my throat. He groans a muffled curse and I taste the salty flavor of his precum.
His pleasure only fuels my own, and I rock my hips with each thrust of his cock in my mouth. He is thoroughly coated in my saliva, and it drips from the edges of my mouth. I make sure to pay extra attention to his piercing as I pull him out of my mouth.
His hands grip my hair tighter, but he doesn't push the boundary. I can tell he's holding back so I suck harder making it known that I am ready for anything he wants to give.
Pulling my mouth off, I continue to stroke him with my hand.
“Dax, can you do me a favor?” I say innocently.
His brows furrow at the odd timing of my question. “Yes, baby.”
“Fuck my face.”
His eyes go wide then close as his head tilts up to the ceiling. He didn’t say yes so I follow it up with…
“Please.”
He growls before pulling my hair so hard my scalp stings. Taking his cock into one of his hands, he directs the tip to my mouth rubbing it along the seam of my lips.
“Beg for it. Beg for my cock.” His voice takes on a deep raspy tone, almost sinister like, that sends tingles across my skin.
“Please,” I whimper.
He jerks my head up to look into his eyes.
“Please what?”
“Please, fuck my face with your fat cock.”
“Yes. I love it when you beg for me.”
I open my mouth for him, and he shoves his cock so deep into my throat I have to breathe through my nose. I swallow around him.
“Oh fuck, yes baby.”
He fucks my face. Thrusting in and out of my throat.
He is magnificent.
Backwards ball cap, flushed cheeks, with blue eyes of molten fire.
I made him this way.
I could watch this view for the rest of my life.
One hand still grips his hip but my other moves of its own accord to dip into my pants. I’m drenched and from the first flick of my clit, I know it won't take much for me to come. I release a muffled moan around his cock.
“Fuck yes, baby. Your mouth feels like ecstasy. Are you touching yourself?” I try to nod, but his grip on my hair doesn't allow much movement. “Are you wet for me? Show me.”
I dip my fingers inside my cunt gathering the wetness. I pull my hand out and show him my slickness. He leans over taking my fingers into his mouth, moaning at my taste. He licks them clean before popping them out of his mouth.
“God you are so fucking gorgeous. Fucking yourself on your fingers while I stuff your hot mouth with my cock.”
I rock into the heel of my hand while dipping two fingers inside my pussy. The movement of Dax’s thrusts align perfectly and I know we are both getting close to the edge. A small shockwave hits and I let out a garbled groan around his cock.
“Are you going to come for me, little girl? Come for daddy.”
His words send me over the edge and I free fall. Dax continues to move inside my mouth, but I don't feel it. Lost to the sensation of my orgasm.
Hot cum hits the back of my throat, snapping me back to reality. I swallow him down greedily. I suck in my cheeks, savoring every last drop.
He pulls himself from my mouth, staring down at me. I lick my lips and smile at him.
He returns it with glazed eyes, gives me his hand and pulls me up to my feet into a kiss. Not one filled with lust and heat. No, this is a kiss that leaves you weak in the knees. It's all sensuality and possessiveness with a hint of sadness that catches me off guard. It feels as if a small piece of my heart is breaking, and I don't know why. I want to ask what's wrong but asking would make it real and I don’t think I'm ready to face reality yet.
He pulls me into his arms, carries me to bed, and I fall asleep safe in his arms.
Chapter thirty-two
Letty
My phone chimes the next morning while I'm braiding my hair getting ready for today's race. Jamison is coming for the race and told me she would text me when she’s at the gate. I pick up my phone, but it's not her number in the notifications. I open the message app and see several messages from an unknown number.
Unknown: You fucking bitch, there is no room for a woman in racing.
Unknown: You will never be good enough.
Unknown: I hope you fucking crash today.
The first two are nothing I haven't heard before and I scoff at their lack of originality. It's the last message that has my blood running cold. The phone falls from my hand. Fire flashes behind my eyelids and a phantom pain runs through my arm. I am lost in the memory of being trapped. My breaths are coming fast. The walls are closing in.
“Letty, are you ready?” I hear Dax say but it's muffled like I'm underwater.
Cold sweat breaks out across my skin, but I'm burning up.
“Letty? Are you okay?” He is closer now. His hand touches my shoulder. “Letty!” His voice is more forceful this time, pulling me out of my trance. He spins me into his chest, wrapping his arms around me.
“It's okay, Letty. Nerves are normal for your first race.” He rubs my back in long strokes soothing my body, but my mind is still a mess.
I snuggle into him, breathing in his woodsy scent that has a way of centering me. My breathing returns to normal. I contemplate telling Dax about the messages but dismiss the idea. It's dumb. Just a subpar bully attempt and I don't need him fighting another battle for me. I'll do what any sane person would do.
Ignore it until it goes away.
Pulling away, I put on the best smile I can muster. “Okay I'm ready.”
My phone pings with another notification and I tense. Dax furrows his brow at my reaction.
“Are you sure you're okay? Is there something wrong?” His voice is soft with concern.
I look away, not meeting his eyes. “Nope, I'm all good.” Grabbing my phone, the screen lights up showing Jamison’s name, and I breathe a sigh of relief.
Jamison: Bitch I’m here! Start your enggggiiiinnnneesss!
I roll my eyes. This is just what I needed. Jamison’s personality is the cure for all ailments…even asshole scare tactics.
Scarlett: You are so cheesy.
Jamison: You love it.
Jamison: Open the door!
A bang at the door is timed perfectly with her last message.
“Jamison’s here,” I tell Dax.
“Yeah, I captured all of that in the messages I've been reading over your shoulder,” he chuckles. Not even the least bit ashamed of snooping.
“You’re lucky you're cute,” I give him a quick peck on the lips before walking towards the door.
I barely get the door unlocked before she barges into the RV. “Where is my favorite driver?” she sings songs.
“I am your only driver,” I say deadpan.
She chuckles. “Oh, I wasn't talking about you.” She wags her eyebrows at me before turning to Dax. “Hey sexy.”
He smiles back at her. “Hey Jamison, how was the drive?”
They make small talk while I take her in. She is dressed to the nines, designer everything, and looks amazing. Her dark hair is shiny and her makeup is perfection. Meanwhile I am in a sports bra and racing suit, no makeup, and my hair is braided in two French braids. I wonder, not for the first time, what Dax sees in me. I'm not successful like Jamison. I'm barely making it in racing. And I’m never all done up and fancy.
There is a list of reasons why he and I are not right for each other. Not only is he my father’s friend and my ex’s dad, but he is constantly having to deal with the backlash of training a female driver. I am a thorn in his side at the very least. But I can't stop myself from wanting him. For falling for him even though I know I shouldn't. Even though I know this could end badly for both of us. One of these days, he will move on to someone else—someone more like Jamison and I will have to watch it all play out. My heart stutters and a severe possessiveness takes over. It won't be easy to watch him go.
“It's time Letty,” Dax says, pulling me out of my thoughts. He doesn't usually say my nickname in front of others, and I can tell by the look on Jamison’s face that she wants to ask but stops herself.
I nod and put on my best smile. “It's now or never.”
Jamison jumps up and down clapping her hands. Usually her excitement is infectious, but not today. I should be excited. This is what I've always dreamed of isn't it? So why do I have a sense of foreboding like a dark cloud hovering above me?
“Hey baby, why don't you come back to my trailer after the race? I can help you lick your wounds,” a man with greasy hair and a scraggly beard calls from the crowd. He smiles at me with a mouthful of brown teeth and I can't stop my lip from raising in disgust.
I’ve heard everything today as we prepared for the race. I've ignored it all , but Dax looks like he is one insult away from unleashing his wrath on the world.
“Shut the fuck up, Dave,” Dax yells. “Watch it and show some respect or I will make you, the next time you open your fucking mouth.”
Dave’s eyes go wide. He turns and walks in the opposite direction.
“If these motherfuckers don't shut up, I swear to all that is holy, I will kill the next one that says something to you,” he says through gritted teeth.
“I would love to see that,” Jamison pipes in. “Can you take off your shirt first? Not him, just you.”
She is seriously laying it on thick today. I'm in a surly mood. I hate waiting. I would much rather be on the track racing, but instead we have to follow all the protocols. The cars are inspected, and we attend a pre-race meeting before lining up on the track for introductions.
My anxiety hums beneath my skin and makes me jittery. I'm ready to get into my car and silence the world around me. I walk faster, distancing myself from Jamison and Dax, giving myself a little room to breathe. The announcement is made to line up as soon as I reach the trailer.
“It's showtime!” Jamison says, running up to me and hugging me from behind. She lays her head on my shoulder, whispering into my ear. “I know you're stressed. This is a big day and I know how important this is to you, but I want you to remember that no matter the outcome of this race or any other race, you have already won just by making it this far. I want you to remember that when you’re out there. You aren't just racing for you. You are racing for me and for every other girl who dreams of being something that isn't deemed socially acceptable.”
“No pressure,” I huff.
Releasing me, she turns my shoulders to face her. She’s a little shorter than me, but not by much. She places both hands on my shoulders. “Hey, what I’m trying to say is that this isn't your first rodeo and sure as hell won't be your last. You’ve made it this far and if I know you, you won't go down without a fight. So get out there and show these assholes who’s boss.”
Her words flow through me, giving me a much needed kick in the ass. Feeling emotional, I close the gap between us, hugging her. Her support fills the hole left after my mother and granddaddy passed away. I wish they were here but I know that they are looking down on me.
I release Jamison and we walk to the stage set up on the front stretch. I leave Dax and Jamison to line up with the other drivers behind the stage. I get a few sneers, but mostly everyone is quiet, focusing on their pre-race rituals.
The drivers are called one at a time to walk down a rectangular stage that leads into the crowd. It looks like a fashion show runway except that we are covered from head to toe in our racing gear. Smoke machines billow out white plumes and rock music plays. Nerves keep bubbling up inside of me and a wave of anxiousness hits me at the thought of being in front of a crowd for the first time as a racer.
Brandon’s name is called and the crowd roars. It’s loud and powerful. He receives it like he is a king on his throne.
The race car gods must really fucking hate me because they announce my name next.
“Scarlett Hayes driving the number eleven car for Unrefined Beauty.”
I walk out onto the stage. Goosebumps cover my arms and tears pool behind my eyes. There are no words to explain this feeling. I look towards the section where my grandaddy and I used to sit, but it's only a speck in a sea of faces.
It feels like I'm being doused with a cold bucket of water when someone screams, “Get off the track!” There are cheers, but they’re drowned out by boos and slurs. But still, I stand and wave, wearing the biggest smile on my face. Kill them with kindness they say. What they don't say is just how much you just want to kill them… with a smile on your face. Kill them while smiling. Yep, that sums it up.
“Go, Scarlett!” I recognize Dax and Jamison’s voices in the crowd. I give them a small smile as I walk off the stage.
I catch Brandon's smug face as he stands at the back of the stage, not having walked off yet.
Asshole.
It’s the only thought I have about fucking Brandon.
I walk out from behind the stage, and I'm immediately thrown into a set of hard arms and warm chest. Dax pulls me in, creating a barrier between me and his son. I tilt my head up bringing my eyes to his. He is trying to act like he isn't as affected by all of the negativity, but his jaw is set in a tense line. Still, he speaks softly when he says, “Don't worry about all that. Respect is earned not given. They will see soon enough.” I nod, but I'm not convinced.
He keeps his arm thrown over my shoulder as we walk to the car. I pull on my helmet and buckle myself in. Dax checks my straps before grabbing my hand and pulling it to his mouth. He places a soft kiss on top of my hand and I tense, looking around to see if anyone can see us. The warmth of his lips runs through me and settles into my core.
No words are said. None are needed. He is my biggest supporter. My rock. I don't think I could've done this without him. I wouldn't be here without him. I try to convey all of this with my eyes as they bore into his. I want so badly to kiss him at this moment. To get lost and relieve myself of all today’s pressure. But I can't. We can't. Out here I am his driver and he is my crew chief. There is no other way.
“Letty,” he says. “Drive fast.” That phrase is becoming our mantra before each race. Our secret. Something between us that no one else is a part of.
I hear, “Drivers, start…your…ENGINES!” shouted over the loudspeaker and the crowd goes wild as all the engines fire up. The mechanical roar is deafening as it echoes off the concrete.
Taking my hand back, I put my gloves on and start the engine. Each car pulls out of pit row and onto the track, lined up in two rows in the order we qualified. I am in the eleventh spot on the inside, just behind Brandon. We follow the pace car slowly as it makes its way around the track warming up our engines.
My hands are sweating.
I grip the wheel so hard you would see my white knuckles if it wasn't for my gloves. My heart is racing with the adrenaline pumping through my veins.
This is it.
Forty-three racers.
Eighty laps.
One winner.
We stay in formation until the pace car leaves the track and the green flag waves.
I shift into gear, increasing my speed. The double line thins out as we space apart. There are forty-three of us and only so much space on the track. I take the first turn hugging the double line that separates the track from the ‘out of bounds’ area. I’m behind Brandon but can make out the front group of cars beginning to pull away from the rest, but not by much.
