by Lauren Asher
He changes his position slightly, making his dick rub against my G-spot. Noah controls the situation. My body quakes as he continues to thrust into me, strategically hitting my spot every time. I throw my head back as my spine curves up toward him.
“You feel fucking amazing. Tell me you’re almost there.” He doesn’t wait for a response. My body says everything my mouth can’t with nothing but moans and groans passing my lips. One hand finds my clit while the other grips one of my ass cheeks. He pulls my ass up off the bed, taking advantage of the angle. His roughness adds to his appeal, showing me how eager he is, and fuck it feels good. His desperation is my gain.
“Yes!”
My body vibrates, my release closing in. I can tell by the strain in Noah’s face he follows right behind me.
“Noah…” I don’t recognize my own voice, the neediness foreign to my ears.
“Fuck yeah, babe, I’m there with you.”
Simple words push me over the edge. I explode around him, my moan echoing off the hotel walls. He fucks me like a man possessed, his body straining as he holds me in the position he needs while I lose myself in my climax.
Noah’s stunning smile is the last thing I see before my eyes close. His orgasm hits him, his cock twitching inside of me as he rides out his release. Frantic pumps become slower, lazier before his body shudders. He stays inside of me until his cock softens, not wanting to break our connection.
We groan together when he pulls out of me after a few minutes.
“You’re so damn perfect, inside and out.” Noah brushes loose hair out of my face, running a knuckle across my flushed cheeks.
I smile at him. “You’re not too bad yourself.”
He gives me a kiss before he takes care of the condom in the bathroom. When he comes back, he drags me back to the head of the bed. We lie there together. I bask in the afterglow of the best sex of my life.
“Fuck, Maya. That was the best sex I’ve ever had.”
I smile into his chest. Likewise.
27
Maya
Someone knocks on the hotel door, pulling me away from my computer. I open the door to find Noah leaning against the frame. He glides past me and walks into the room, taking up a spot against the gray sectional while I take a seat.
“I want to take you out on a date.”
I check the time on my phone. “At ten in the morning?” Staying in the hotel room sounds like a fine idea, unless the date he plans involves brunch and mimosas. I can get behind that.
“Exactly why we better get going.” He pulls me off the couch and toward the bedroom to get ready.
I smack his hands away when he tries to help me take off my pajamas. “Hands off or else we’ll never make it.”
He chuckles to himself.
“Does this date involve breakfast food?” Please say yes.
“Nope. But afterwards we can get something to eat.” He won’t share information. Suspicious.
Noah’s eyes gleam. I should be concerned because that look usually leads to hours in the bedroom. Take my word for it because we’ve bounced around each other’s hotel rooms for the past week at all hours of the day.
But I go along with his plan because it’s nice of him to set up a date. Noah claims he’s changed. Who am I to rain on his parade?
I still can’t deny my apprehension about the whole thing. Not the sex part. That part is banging. Okay, I know that pun is bad. I blame all the Instagram captions I have to come up with because being punny is basically a full-time job.
But everything else between Noah and me still remains questionable. It’s brand-spanking new with us being in the relationship honeymoon stage. Ask me again once the going gets tough. Like when my lies to my brother about my whereabouts blow up in my face.
Positive energy flows right out of me the moment he pulls up to the location of our first real date. An odd choice for a one on one. I drag my body out of the car and take a step apart from him the moment we get within range of the video cameras in the Bandini pit. We still have to keep up appearances in front of my brother and everyone else that can spill our secret. Only Sophie can be trusted.
“Our date is at the racetrack?”
My eyes assess the crowd in front of us. Not sure why he wants to visit the location for the Malaysian Grand Prix. Should I be worried about future dates if he thinks this is a good spot for our official one as a new couple?
I’ll have to take charge of the next one.
Noah rubs his hands together. “Think of this as a trust exercise. You know how people do trust falls?”
“Uh. Sure?” I nod along. Uncertainty creeps up my spine when he smiles down at me.
“So, I don’t want to worry about how you might not trust me yet. I want to make sure you do. Because that’s the foundation of relationships.” He sounds confident about all of this.
What podcasts does he listen to? I don’t know whether I should be concerned or impressed.
“Your smile makes me a little nervous,” I blurt out. Nothing good comes from his shit-eating grin, the same look I give my parents when I’m hiding something.
He walks toward Bandini’s pit area, a silent command to follow him. I wish I had stayed in the car. Distant sounds of tires squealing across pavement alert my senses.
A group of people rallies around the pit area. Camera crews film people getting inside of neon-colored Bandini cars, perfectly lined, making up the entire rainbow.
I make the mistake of reading the banner above our heads. Bandini Race Day Experience. Drive like an F1 racer.
Oh, no.
His hand gives mine a reassuring squeeze before he drops it.
“Please tell me we’re doing a press appearance.” My voice sounds stronger than I feel.
Hope surges through me at the idea of coming to watch and cheer fans on. Noah can take them for a spin while I stand behind the barriers, a few fist pumps in the air to sell my enthusiasm while he careens down the track.
“We are.” He reveals nothing more. My heart rate slows down, confident the date is what I expect. Safety barrier here I come.
He speaks again. “But we’re filming from inside that car.”
Oh, shit. Please tell me he means I’m going to look inside the car for two seconds. Slap the hands of the nerds who design the cars, take a quick photo, throw a thumbs up. A girl can dream.
My eyes follow his pointing finger. They land directly on a neon green Bandini car with open scissor doors. It looks like a car from the future, estimated at about 500,000 dollars.
“I am not setting a foot behind a steering wheel.” Over my dead body. Hard no.
“You don’t have to worry about that.” He fills me with faith before ripping it away. “I’m going to be behind the wheel.”
I need to put in a Bandini work order for this man to get a warning sign. Noah all but drags me to the neon green beauty with black leather seats and neon green piping.
A Bandini employee passes me a helmet. I don’t put up much of a verbal fight with Noah because people watch us, and I can’t be too embarrassing. Press crew follows us, eating up my reluctant display like I drag my feet for the fun of it. My stomach rolls, my face most likely matching the same green shade as our car.
I take deep breaths, trying to relax.
“Here we have Noah Slade taking Maya Alatorre onto the track. Maya, how do you feel about being driven around by one of the best race car drivers out there?” A reporter jams a foam microphone in my face.
“Nauseous?” my voice rasps.
The reporter laughs at me like I mean it as a joke. I shoot Noah a glare, questioning if it’s too late to back out. My eyes dart between the car and the pit lane, estimating how quickly I can run before Noah catches up to me.
“It’s interesting Maya chose to come out with you instead of her brother today. Any thoughts on this, Noah?”
My palm drags down my face. Deep breaths.
“I can’t help that she wants to try out the track w
ith me when she’s watched her brother drive for years. But there’s nothing like taking someone’s racetrack virginity.”
Pretty sure his response turned me on, and I’m halfway convinced I’m dating the devil in disguise.
He shoots me a wink. “We’re going to get going. See you later, guys.” He waves at the reporters like the natural he is.
Following his lead, I hop into the passenger’s side.
Noah’s eyes gleam. “You packed your camera, right?”
I pull the camera out of my purse. He takes it from my hands and sets it up on a conveniently placed camera mount.
“My heart may explode out of my chest. I might not make it through the whole thing.”
He chuckles. “You’ll be okay, we’re only going to go about one hundred and thirty to one hundred and fifty miles per hour. That’s not too bad. It’s our trust test, remember?”
I no longer feel bad for disgruntled coworkers who have to do trust falls during employee retreats. That has nothing on this cruel version.
I never did find out the recovery rate for having a heart attack at twenty-three. Regrets.
“Jesus take the wheel.” I do the sign of the cross before putting on my helmet.
“You may have called me God last night, but I’m the only one behind the wheel today.” The smug man fucking winks.
His hand finds the stick shift and we propel down the grid area. He laughs as we make it past the first turn, tires screeching against the pavement while he speeds up again.
“Damn, I didn’t hear you scream like that last night. Do I need to change my technique?”
“You perv! This is terrifying. Oh my God. How do you do this all the time? How is this even legal?” I’d slap his arm if I wasn’t plastered to the side of the car.
“I love it. Just relax and enjoy.” His voice does nothing to calm me.
“Never tell a woman to relax!” I scream again as we drift on another turn. It’s touch and go with my heart, stopping every time Noah turns the car before picking back up again as he races down the road.
“Who can ever be calm at a time like this? If they do, they’re certifiable.”
Another scream erupts from my mouth. I don’t have the chance to feel embarrassed, the loud shrieks pouring out of me with no control.
The engine purrs as Noah’s lead foot hits the accelerator. His hand does a bunch of shift changes, which are honestly kind of hot because his muscles strain and tense. I distract myself by staring at him in his element, a smile plastered on his face, beaming at my reactions. My screams stop long enough for me to check out how happy he looks.
He hits me with a megawatt grin. If my body wasn’t already in fight-or-flight mode, my heart rate would have sped up.
“Eyes on the road! Hello!” I snap my fingers and point at the pavement in front of us. He chuckles while he turns into another straight section, the car vrooming as he presses on the throttle.
“I could do this track in my sleep. It’s an easy one.”
“That’s great and all but I’d rather live to see tomorrow.” I take another deep breath.
He laughs as he checks me out. “Do you trust me yet?”
“I trust that you’re secretly a psycho. What kind of first date is this? Haven’t you ever seen an episode of The Bachelor? This date is not Chris Harrison approved!” I grip onto the side of the car for dear life. Those top handlebar things every car has? Yeah, I learn their true purpose, my knuckles whitening as I hold on with all my might.
Can he quit laughing at me?
“That’s not the answer I wanted to hear. I’ll have to step it up.”
That, friends, is exactly the type of thing no one asks for. It’s meme-worthy.
His hands turn nobs on the center console.
“Uh, what are you doing?” My stomach churns as my body bounces up and down, the car revolting against the high speeds Noah pushes it to. The death contraption continues to zoom past empty bleachers. Speakers sound off for the first time the entire trip, the robotic voice sending a chill down my spine.
Traction Control Disabled.
My head whips to face Noah, my helmet bouncing off the window. The movement jars me. Even I know the importance of traction control…it prevents the one thing Noah wants to do.
He shrugs, sealing our fate.
His hands turn the wheel, our car drifting across the road before spinning donuts. Tires squeal against the road. A cloud of smoke swirls around us from rubber burning, floating up into the sky along with my sanity.
“I trust you! I’ll never not trust you ever again. You’re the best driver ever. You’ll always keep me safe. Are you satisfied now?” I half laugh, half scream the words, sounding like someone who belongs in a psychotic thriller movie. There may even be a tear or two leaking from my eyes, but if Noah asks me, I’ll deny it.
He stops the donuts and we both end up breaking out in a fit of laughter. His hand grabs mine and brings it up to his lips for a kiss, my previous fear forgotten.
“To answer your question from before, yes I’ve seen The Bachelor. I took notes. This is the first of many for us, so I had to make it unforgettable.”
He hits me with a devilish grin before I flash him one of my own.
28
Noah
There are only two things that can suck the happiness straight out of me.
One is any type of news of someone dying.
And two is my dad.
The second reason sends me a deceitful grin that makes my stomach shrivel up. He stands next to my car in the pit area, his negative energy pulsing around him. Not exactly what I need before a practice session.
Over the years, I’ve become a pro at avoiding my dad, an easier task since I’ve never liked being around him when he gets angry. Now that I’ve outgrown him, he moves on from hitting me to verbal lashings. The time Maya saw him smack me…that was unlike him. He usually keeps calm nowadays, at least physically, choosing to flip out when I perform less than perfect on the track.
“Dad, what are you doing here?” What I really want to say is Dad, get the fuck out of here. I can’t stand you. But I don’t say what I wish to because I prefer professionalism. Unfortunately, my dad funded a lot of my career at the start, his name carrying weight at Bandini. It was his same racing team after all.
“After your poor display at the last couple of races, I wanted to check in.”
Sure you did.
But this is my life. Anything below first place might as well be last. The only thing keeping me calm is the sound of race cars zooming by while I breathe in the smell of fresh car wax.
“Right. Hopefully this one will go better.” I can win the Japanese Grand Prix since I’ve done it in the past.
“And here we are getting ready for the next practice session. Santiago, do you have anything to say to your fans?”
For fuck’s sake, Maya has the worst timing.
My dad ogles her as she spins around in the garage. Gross. She keeps going, asking Santiago questions.
My dad focuses back on me. “She’s a news reporter now? What’s she doing in the pit area? It’s no place for a woman.” He still lives in an era where women get married and live the rest of their sad lives in the four walls of their home. Times have changed, Pops.
“Nope. Santiago’s sister vlogs.” My girlfriend, I wish to say.
Maya and I haven’t talked about titles yet. We only hashed things out two weeks ago in Singapore. But everything about us feels title-worthy because we spend lots of time together whenever Santiago isn’t around. In my bed, in hers, in one of the private suites, and secret dates in the cities we visit. My sex drive with Maya rivals that of an eighteen-year-old.
I don’t like how my dad looks at her, pissing me off even more.
“Hmm. She shouldn’t be filming.” His growl of a voice does nothing to intimidate me.
“They already gave her the go-ahead for it. It’s been good publicity and nice for branding since she has a lot of
followers.” Shit. Did my voice sound like I am proud of her?
My dad assesses me, giving me the fucking chills. His perceptiveness makes him cruel because he didn’t get where he is today by being stupid.
“I guess it’s fine,” he says.
Everything about his face screams how it isn’t. His eyebrows raise, he rubs his chin, his eyes have an evil spark. A montage of every villain from every movie.
“I better get ready for another practice round. I’ll see you later?” I don’t want to leave him alone here with Maya, but I have to.
I sneak up next to her before hopping into my car.
“Stay away from my dad. He’s a sneaky piece of shit.”
Her eyes widen. “Good luck out there!” She gets my message, her retreating form comforting me as I get in the cockpit of my car.
Maya’s hand strokes my chest. We decided to stay in tonight and not attend any sponsor events. No loss here. She texts Santi about not feeling well while I tell the guys I have a headache.
“I don’t think it’s going to end well. I always thought he was a bad guy…but he’s not. And now they killed him.”
By him, she’s referring to Bob on Stranger Things. Her tears dampen my shirt.
Wow, she really gets into shows.
“Do you always cry during sad scenes?” I pull her into a hug. It’s cute, endearing even. But I don’t want her to cry over something not real.
“I have a lot of feelings. Okay?” Her eyes glisten as she looks up at me. I give her a soft kiss on her forehead, her sigh making me smirk.
And the action continues on the TV. Maya snaps her head back, eagerly watching the next part.
I have learned my lesson. When they say, “Netflix and Chill,” they mean to pick the most boring show because any other choice means no sex, no hooking up.
I fall into the Stranger Things trap. Maya swats my hand away whenever I put a move on her.
“You need to stop sighing every time Steve is on the screen. This crush has gotten out of hand.”
My heart surges at the sound of her laugh. A weird feeling I’ve grown accustomed to whenever I hang around Maya, similar to how my dick gets rock-hard whenever she gets near me.