Mastering Her Senses (Blasphemy Book 2)

by Laura Kaye

  “Yeah, because during race time you can hardly hear yourself think,” Quinton said, his tone approving and engaged as he surveyed the big oval.

  “True enough.” Jagger turned to Quinton. “So, do you want to ride or do you want to drive?” Cassia saw the answer on Quinton’s face before he spoke.

  “Damn, if I can drive, I want to drive,” Quinton said.

  “That’s what Cass thought you’d say. Let’s get you oriented and suited up, then. There’s someone I want you to meet.” Jagger started down the steps, and they followed.

  “Have I thanked you for this lately?” Quinton asked in a low voice. The raw appreciation in his gaze made her belly go on a loop-the-loop.

  “No need,” she said, just happy that he was enjoying himself. She’d really wanted this day to be fun and stress-free. It’d been a long time since she’d had a day like that herself, and sharing it with her brother and Quinton made it even better. No matter what Quinton was to her, she knew she’d always care about him for wanting to help her.

  At ground level, she followed the guys through a tall gate that separated the stands from the field. Two stock cars sat waiting, one red and white and the other green and black. A driver wearing a matching racing suit leaned against the red one. Cassia had met some of the drivers on other visits, but this guy was new to her.

  Jagger shook hands with the man. “Thanks for doing this today, Mason.”

  “Any friend of yours is a friend of mine, Jagger. Always. You know that. I’m Andre Mason,” the man said, a slight southern accent to his voice. “Nice to meet y’all.” After introductions were made, Mason continued, “Who’s driving?”

  “I am,” Quinton said, and then his gaze cut to her. “You joining me?”

  “Nope,” she said. “This is all for you. I can take pictures and catch up with Jagger while you’re out there.”

  What followed was about forty-five minutes of orientation for Quinton. She and Jagger sat in the beautiful fall afternoon air in the stands just outside the fencing. Jagger shared stories about some of the Ravens she’d gotten to know over the years and pointed out upgrades he’d implemented at the track. Meanwhile, Mason went over operating the car, explained the safety equipment, and reviewed the track rules. Quinton was attentive and easy-going as the two men spoke, and his attention being focused elsewhere allowed her the chance to admire him without getting caught.

  And, damn, he was just as appealing to her in a pair of black jeans, a brown Henley, old brown boots, and a chunky silver watch on his wrist, as he was in the worn blue jeans he usually wore while doing a scene.

  “You sure you don’t want to ride with him?” her brother asked, his voice full of a smug knowing.

  “No,” she said, realizing she’d been caught after all. “I’ve been out with you before. This is for him.”

  “For him,” Jagger said. “Mmhmm. And how about you? You for him, too?”

  She waved him off.

  “I’m serious, Cass. Just how serious are you two?”

  Cassia shook her head and told the truth. “We’re not serious.” He gave her a look. “I mean it, Jag. We’re not together. You know I’m not ready for anything.”

  He shifted in his seat next to her. “Why not? It’s been two years since the cave-in. I know it’s been hard sometimes, but it’s clear there’s something going on here.” His chin jutted toward the field, where Quinton was getting fitted for a racing suit.

  He zipped up the black, gray, and white suit, and Cassia about swallowed her tongue. Because Quinton was hot no matter what, but something about that suit gave off a vibe that worked for her. It worked for her a lot. Enough that her heart picked up the pace and arousal stirred inside her. Turning toward her, Quinton held out his arms in a silent what do you think?

  She gave him a big thumbs up.

  “What were you saying about nothing going on?” Jagger asked, amusement in his voice.

  Cass rolled her eyes at him, and then had to bite back a smile when she thought of all the times today she’d been tempted to roll her eyes at Quinton just to see what he’d do. “I didn’t say there was nothing going on, just that we’re not serious.” There. That was fair.

  “But you want it to be,” he said, his fingers moving over his thigh in a silent progression of chords. She’d gotten so used to that little quirk of his that she didn’t always even register it anymore. But if Jagger wasn’t playing, he was thinking about playing, or humming, or tapping out a rhythm. He’d always been like that.

  She looked back out at the track so her brother didn’t see the answer in her eyes. “I don’t know, Jagger. Really. I don’t.”

  “I don’t like you being alone, Cassie,” he said, using the nickname she’d had as a girl. “I want you to be happy.”

  She turned to her brother, and met his gaze straight on. “I know. And I appreciate that. But, you know, I could say the same thing about you.”

  He shrugged one big shoulder. “I have the club.”

  “That’s not the same and you know it,” she said. They’d been down this conversational road before. Being stubborn was a quality they shared, unfortunately.

  On a sigh, she looked back to the track and found Mason fitting Quinton with his HANS device, U-shaped safety equipment that rested over the driver’s shoulders, providing an anchor system that attached to the helmet and kept the driver’s head from getting whipped around in the event of a crash.

  Finally it was time to climb in and strap up.

  Cassia rose to her feet. “Have fun!” she called.

  Quinton gave her a wave from the driver’s seat of the green and black car, and then Mason climbed into the red-and-white car in front. The engines roared to life, and she could almost imagine the huge grin on Quinton’s face.

  Mason pulled out onto the track first, and Cassia had done or watched this enough times to know how it would work. The instructor would set the speed by leading about four car lengths ahead, and with each successive lap, he would increase the speed and the size of the car-length gap.

  Soon, it seemed like they were flying. Cassia cheered and waved and took about a million pictures and a couple short videos, too. She wanted Quinton to remember this day because she knew that she would. She lost track of how many laps they did, but after about twenty-five minutes, Mason led them back into the pit.

  Without a second thought, Cass took off down the steps and through the gate. When Quinton cut off his engine, she ran to his stock car, grinning from ear to ear.

  He pulled himself out, something that she could’ve watched him do a hundred times, and tugged off his helmet. His hair was damp around the edges and his smile was about a million watts. On a whoop, he wrapped an arm around her waist and spun her in a circle. “That was awesome, Cass. Damn. That was just the best.” He placed her back on her feet.

  Laughing, she clapped her hands together because was so happy for him. Really, she was just happy. Realization hit her like she’d walked cartoon-style into a wall. She was happier than she’d been…in two years. Maybe more. Because of Quinton.

  She wanted to kiss him and hug him and maybe even climb him. But despite the little victory dance they’d shared, they had agreed to be hands-off today, and that was beside the whole no-strings attached thing with which Cassia finally had to admit she was failing miserably.

  Quinton went right up to Jagger. “If there’s ever anything I can do to repay you, just ask, Jagger. This was fantastic.”

  “Glad you enjoyed it. I get out there every chance I get. Now who’s hungry?”

  Before long, they were parking in front of the Raven Riders clubhouse, a long, two-story log building with a covered front porch that stretched the whole width. Even with a few motorcycles in the lot and the club’s four-bay chop shop across the lot, the place still looked like the old-school mountain inn it had once been. And the view down the mountain and into the valley was just stunning.

  Cassia had been there many times, but it had been about six mon
ths since the last time. She regretted that because she used to come all the time.

  She used to do—and be—so many things.

  And she wanted it all back. She wanted herself back, too.

  Inside, Jagger gave Quinton a tour of the main floor. “This lounge used to be the inn’s lobby. That’s the original check-in desk,” he said, pointing to a long, ornate wooden counter that ran across the back wall. Over it, the club’s motto—Ride. Fight. Defend.—was carved beautifully into the thick wood molding. Jag led them into a large, adjoining room. “And this is the rec room.” A huge bar filled the long, front wall, and leather couches and pool tables took up much of the rest of the space.

  Quinton ran his hand over the carved bar top. “This is a beauty. Amazing craftsmanship. I would’ve loved to have had something like this in my first place.”

  “You owned a bar?” Jagger asked.

  “Yeah. Small place in Baltimore. Did a good business. Locals, mostly. Now I’m in on a bigger club with some partners and run the bars and all the food service for it.” Quinton’s pride and pleasure in his work was clear in his voice. Cassia hadn’t realized just how much of the operation he was responsible for, and found herself developing a new respect for him. Not to mention that competence was damn sexy.

  “People are always hungry and thirsty,” Jagger said.

  “No doubt about that,” Quinton said, laughing.

  Her brother led them down a back hallway. “Dare’s the club president. Let me see if he’s here. I’ll introduce you.” He knocked on a door at the very end.

  “Yeah?” came from inside.

  “Got a minute, boss?” Jagger asked.

  “Come in. Hey. What do you need, Jagger?” he said from his seat at the covered desk.

  Cassia popped out from around her brother. “Surprise!”

  Dare’s normally serious expression split into a grin as he hauled himself from the chair. “Cassia Locke. Damn, kid, where have you been hiding yourself?”

  She gave him a quick hug, but made sure not to squeeze him too tight. Something bad had gone down at a race over the summer, and Dare had gotten shot. “Nowhere at all. But I’m glad to get up here for the day,” she said, turning. “Dare, this is my friend, Quinton. He just got to take one of the cars out onto the track.”

  The men shook hands, and fell into an easy conversation about racing, cars, and bikes. With shoulder-length brown hair and dark eyes, Dare had always had a bit of an intimidating aura about him, but despite having been shot, Cassia couldn’t help but think he appeared more relaxed than she’d seen him in a long time. But what captured her attention even more was how easily Quinton fit in with Jagger and Dare. She had a fleeting thought—and then it came back around for another pass and parked itself right in the center of her chest: she didn’t want this to be the last time she hung out with Jagger and Quinton at the same time.

  Not that she had any idea what to do with that little gem.

  “I don’t mean to cut things short,” Jagger said, “but I need to grab a bite to eat before I have to get back down there. You all ready?”

  They said their good-byes to Dare and agreed to find him at the races tonight, and then Jagger led them back through the clubhouse and into the big mess hall. Two long lines of tables filled the central space in front of a huge floor-to-ceiling stone fireplace.

  “If you liked the bar, you might enjoy their kitchen, too,” Cassia said. “It’s a cool mix of this old rustic architecture with modern amenities. A bunch of their guys often come here for mealtime, so they usually cook for as many a couple dozen people on the weekends, fewer on the weekdays.” They pushed through the swinging door into the big space.

  “Hey, Jagger,” a blond-haired Raven said. Standing at the counter, he was building a sandwich, the fixings spread all around where he worked. Maverick Rylan, Dare’s cousin and the club’s second-in-command. “Whoa, Cass. Where the hell have you been?” he asked with a grin.

  She released an exasperated breath. “Everyone keeps asking me that.”

  “That’s because the last time you were here, the dinosaurs still roamed the Earth,” he said with a smirk, amusement flashing in the darkest blue pair of eyes she’d ever seen.

  She threw a glance at Quinton. “That,” she said pointing at her brother’s smart-ass friend, “totally deserves an eye roll. You gotta give me that.”

  Laughing, Quinton introduced himself, and the conversation quickly turned into a major sandwich-building party that once again went like Quinton had known these men forever. They ate together in the mess hall, and then Maverick treated them to a tour of his custom bike shop across the way. As five o’clock neared, they made their way back down to the track, where Cassia introduced Quinton to as many of the Ravens as she could.

  And then the setting sun stretched long shadows across the ground and those roaring engines thundered as the races began.

  By then, Cassia was nearly burning with the need to touch Quinton. The day had been a study in denied desire as they’d laughed, joked around, shared the amazing thrill of him getting to drive, and now sat next to each other, their thighs unintentionally resting against one another, as the pack of stock cars roared around the field.

  Cass wanted so much more than that. She wanted to kiss him and straddle him and grind herself again him. She wanted to burrow her hands under his shirt and dig her fingers into his muscles. And she wanted him all over her, too.

  But what did he want? She didn’t know. So she stared hard at the races because if he saw her face—her eyes—for even an instant, he’d know.

  She was dying for him.

  A roving vendor went by calling out Popcorn for sale! Get your popcorn!, and Quinton held up his money to be a big tub. “Want some?” he asked, holding it towards her.

  “No, thanks,” she said, finding it hard to sit still, not just because of how much she wanted Quinton, but also because nervous energy flowed through her. If she fessed up to what she was feeling, would it change things between them for the worse? Would it end the arrangement they’d come to? After all, he’d been clear that he wasn’t looking for a relationship.

  He nudged her arm with the bucket. “Cass, you sure?”

  “Yeah,” she said, eyes still straight ahead. Her thigh wouldn’t stop bouncing now.

  “Cassia, look at me,” came his deep voice right in her ear.

  On a deep breath, she complied. And let him see what he would.

  He stared at her hard, and she knew exactly when it registered. Because his gaze went molten.

  Finally, he leaned in close. “As soon as we’re out of here, this no-touching thing? All bets are off.”

  Chapter Nine

  Quinton had an amazing day—and it was all thanks to Cassia.

  It was one thing to click with someone sexually, and another to click with someone socially, and yet another to find someone so easy to talk to that it was effortless. But it was magic to connect with someone that way on every level.

  He had that with Cass. He had all the cylinders firing. Just like he’d always wanted. Quinton had it in spades.

  And it made him fucking yearn.

  For more. For a chance. For the everything his parents apparently hadn’t had but both had wanted.

  Everything, with Cassia.

  Especially when she looked at him the way she’d been doing for the past hour—like she wanted to possess him. Heat and need had been radiating off her so brightly that Quinton had been sporting a hard-on most of that time, his mind absolutely alive with all the things he wanted to do to her and experience with her.

  As good as the day had been, he was nearly ecstatic when they said their good-byes and made for his Rover.

  Of course, they weren’t going anywhere fast. Not with a thousand other race fans pouring out of the lot at the same time. With each slow crawl toward the exit, Quinton could’ve sworn that the temperature in the vehicle ratcheted up. He was almost sure he could hear her galloping heart, and without quest
ion he could hear the shakiness of her exhales, the shifting of her clothing against the leather seat as she moved, and the bouncing of her foot against the carpet.

  Baby girl was wound tight.

  And all that unhelpful realization did was wind him even tighter.

  Finally, finally, they pulled out onto the road, and within five minutes’ time, they were back on the highway, flying east towards Baltimore.

  The tension in the car took on a physical presence, and neither of them said a goddamned thing. It was almost as if speaking or moving or even breathing would explode the whole thing to pieces, until all that was left was raw animal need.

  Christ, Quinton had never felt this kind of high-voltage sexual energy before, and definitely not in an otherwise platonic situation. But he was right on the fucking edge, and no more than a hair’s breadth from falling over.

  From the passenger’s seat came the thick sound of a swallow, and it immediately unleashed a memory in Quinton’s mind. Cassia, deep throating his cock while he sat on the edge of the Jacuzzi. She’d been aggressive and relentless and extreme, impaling herself on his length again and again, holding herself there until she had to gasp for breath. She’d shoved him hard and fast toward his orgasm until it had been irresistible.

  Much like he was feeling right now.

  “Master Quinton?” The soft words, spoken at barely more than a whisper, were like a crack of thunder inside the car. Master Quinton. He hadn’t needed the title to know where her mind and body were, but it licked fire over his skin to hear it nonetheless.

  “Think carefully before you say another word, Cassia. Because I’m holding on by a very thin fucking thread over here.” His tone was harsher than he’d intended, but it was taking some serious effort to rein in his baser needs. Because, Jesus, he felt like a tiger pacing in a cage.

  Silence followed, and Quinton heaved a breath.