Banging Wheels

by Natalie Banks

  He kept picturing her. Her beautiful features. That intriguing smile. That sexy mind of hers. Dammit. Seeing her racing so strong, and then seeing her in that bed, looking so fragile. No, these thoughts were not good. If you start feeling for your rivals, how can you compete against them?

  But he cared for her. Inconvenient as that might be, it was clearly the truth.

  Exhausted from the mental effort as much as the physical, he slumped back. His damaged body demanded rest of him, and he sank back into a restless doze.

  Darkness.

  Callie slowly opened her eyes to the blur of white.

  ...beep... beep... beep... beep...

  She’d been drifting in and out of sleep since she got here. She felt weak, but nothing seemed to be broken. Her legs were fine. She was a big fan of her legs. For all the minor annoyances and dislikes of various other parts of her own body — her elbows and her ears in particular — she loved her legs. Sometimes, fresh after shaving them in the shower, she like to lie on her bed and look down on them, reveling in how sensuous they looked, even stroking them to soak up their softness. It always made her feel so feminine. But of course she also needed them to be in good shape if she was to drive.

  But now they were just painful. She remembered every last bit of the accident. It seemed to happen in slow motion. Her fit in the car around the backside was quite snug — so she wasn’t too bad in that department — and the head restraint meant her neck was fine, if a little stiff. But her legs had seemed to take a real battering, banging against each other. Her knees in particular hurt.

  She eased herself up in bed and pushed the sheets down to reveal big patches of blueish purple. She wondered about Drake next door. The nurse had told her that he was okay, but that was all. Patient confidentiality and all that. She felt the anger rising up in her. Stupid, stupid asshole. Three times now. She lay there seething for while at the injustice of it all.

  But then, was it totally his fault this time? She wanted it to be, for the sake of her own indignation, but then she remembered how she felt going into the corner — utterly determined not to back down. If two people go into a corner like that with that same attitude, a collision is almost inevitable. But then she’d only gone in with that attitude because of what he’d done before. She thought back to the previous two incidents, and could no longer lie there in bed doing nothing about it.

  She eased out from under the covers onto her feet and slid into the pair of disposable slippers by the bedside. Putting her weight on her feet, she felt pain through each one, and was a little wobbly as she limped out into the corridor. She had a sense of which way it was from the direction the nurse had looked when she’d asked about him.

  She felt her anger growing as she headed down the hall. What a complete and utter jerk. More than a jerk, he was a threat to life. Why couldn’t he just behave normally? He probably just miscalculated in the rain, the son of a bitch — probably intended to put her out and go on to win the race himself. He’d no doubt come out of it perfectly fine — just a bruised thumb or something. Maybe even this whole thing was a big plan to try to put her out for the rest of the season.

  She turned the handle of the first door, ready to explode at him and... it was a linen cupboard. Even Drake wasn’t so conniving that he’d be hiding in there. Although he’d no doubt wish he’d thought of it by the time she’d finished with him.

  She moved to the next door, slowly turned the handle, and walked in.

  And there he was, lying on the bed, flat out. He suddenly looked so defenseless. Yes, he was a jerk, and yes it was his fault they were both in there. But he was just another living, breathing human being. She tried to re-summon some anger, but it was tough with him lying there like that. She walked up closer to him, taking in that handsome, rugged face of his. She remembered the feeling of his stubble grazing against her cheek.

  You stupid asshole.

  She reached out slowly, her hand inching towards his face, and dragged her fingers across his stubble. His eyes twitched, but stayed closed. She traced her fingers across his lips, manly yet yielding, and to her surprise — they slowly parted to accept one of those delicate fingers. More than that, he started to give it a gentle nibble.

  She felt a rush of blood to her head, and not only there. She dragged her fingers free of his mouth, then traced them down the stubble of his throat and Adam’s apple. Ever so gently, she slipped them inside his cotton pajamas and onto his muscular chest, to an exhalation from him, her fingers sifting through his chest hair.

  ...beep... beep... beep... beep...

  Down further she went, easing apart buttons before encountering a rough gauze. Bandages; he must have hurt his ribs. He let out a gasp of something that sounded like pain or maybe pleasure, or maybe an intangible mixture of the two.

  Her fingers tip-toed across the bandages, finding bare flesh further south. Suddenly remembering where she was, she flashed a glance to the door. Still closed. Her fingers continued their journey. His eyes were closed, but his breathing was becoming heavier.

  beep beep beep beep

  She encountered the top of his pajama bottoms. A threshold. She should stop now. They were in a hospital for heaven’s sake. They’d just been in an accident!

  “Don’t stop,” he murmured, eyes still closed.

  Her fingers snuck inside the elastic, the back of them brushing against something big. She lifted them up off his abdomen, and wrapped them around his full, proud length. She gripped and squeezed it, biting her lip as she felt it further engorge to an eye-watering stiffness.

  His eyes opened and he looked down at her plaintively, feverish with lust. She looked at him, then back at the part of him now emerging from his bedclothes, and gently drew the skin back to reveal his throbbing manliness in its full glistening glory, aching to be made use of.

  I must be mad. We’re both in the hospital!

  She clambered up onto the bed, having to suppress a screech of pain as she put her weight on her knees, then eased one leg over him, her gown falling partly open as she did so; a breast slipping out.

  My god, she was so wet.

  She reached a hand between her legs and felt him throbbing, animalistic, ready. Gently she eased herself down, her knees and legs complaining at the movements, but the pain dampened by sheer lust. She gave a deep sigh as his rock-hard erection parted her lips and slipped effortlessly inside her, filling her completely.

  She slid right down onto his hilt, drawing a moan from him, feeling it fill her right up, rolling around, gripping it with her muscles, unable to help herself from grinding against him.

  BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP

  Slowly she started to ride him, gazing into his crazed eyes with unflinching passion of her own. Feeling his big hot self sliding inside her. Grinding herself against him, while he rhythmically pushed back.

  Outside, she could hear a dull thud.

  Wait, was that... footsteps?

  Oh God, please don’t come in. It was far too late to stop. She was so far gone already. She felt dizzy from the lust and the breathing. If her legs hurt any more she couldn’t feel it. All she could feel were the circles of pleasure closing in on her, making everything feel blurry and faint.

  Mary stopped in her tracks. Was that something she’d heard from that racing drivers room? Probably not. She smoothed out her nurse’s uniform and continued, then stopped some way down the corridor — if she didn’t check on him, and there was a problem, it would be her responsibility — her fault. She had a touch of the obsessive-compulsive about her, and she knew it — she could end up checking on people far too much just out of the fear of guilt that would engulf her if she didn’t and there was a problem. With a sigh at the mental tricks she played on herself, she carried on.

  He seemed like a such a nice young man, but so silly. Why did people deliberately put themselves in a position of danger like that? There are problems enough in life without creating them for yourself. Same went for her, but even more so. She di
dn’t even know there were female racing drivers. Wouldn’t that be a problem if you had kids?

  Callie was starting to lose control. She was grinding herself into a frenzy of uncontrollable pleasure, while beneath her, Drakes eyes had rolled back, his mouth was open and his back arched as she continued to ride him.

  BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP

  Harder and harder they went, until finally she could take no more; letting out a little shriek, instantly covering her mouth with both her hands, she rested back on him, feeling her inside suddenly go warm.

  BEEEEEEEEEEE

  The wire to the heart monitor was left swinging bedside as both patients arched their backs and opened their mouths, blinded by pleasure.

  That was definitely a noise.

  Mary turned on her heel and started heading back, her soft-soled shoes making gentle thuds on the hard floor.

  As she went to open the door, her anxiety piqued, something telling her that she was about to find a dead body or something. She pushed the door open and...

  There he was on the bed, amid a mess of disheveled covers.

  “Are you okay?” she said.

  “I’m...” he was breathing hard. “I’m fine.”

  “You don’t look fine. You’re sweating. You look like you’re straight out of the gymnasium.”

  “No, really.”

  “Maybe you have a fever.” She glanced at the various equipment on the other side of the bed and started heading around.

  “NO!”

  The nurse looked startled.

  “Sorry, I mean, I just, all I need is a glass of water. Please, could you get me one?”

  Mary headed back out and closed the door behind her. He was a nice young man, but a bit strange. Maybe it was the effects of the accident.

  Back in the room, Drake watched as Callie’s head emerged from the behind the bed, with a big smile plastered on the front of it.

  “That was close.”

  “It still is close!” he said with a big goofy grin. “Go!”

  “I’ve got your...” she put her hand between her legs, smiling back.

  “Go!”

  He watched her disappear off in a slightly strange waddle, like someone who really needed the toilet.

  A couple of minutes later, the nurse was back, taking his blood pressure and temperature and reattaching his heart monitor.

  “Everything’s fine,” she said. “You must just have had a funny turn.”

  “Yeah I guess so. I’m going to sleep for a bit. Can I have some privacy for a while?”

  “No problem. I’ll back in an hour just to make sure you’re okay.”

  There was a knock at the door. Drake straightened himself, ready for the nurse.

  “Come.”

  Callie walked in, looking ridiculously sultry for a hospital patient.

  “I already did,” she said, biting her lip.

  “You’re not the only one.”

  “I noticed.” She floated towards the bed, with a playful smile. “I had to perform a minor clean-up operation when I got back to my room.”

  My God, she was angelic. Though the spell was broken somewhat by a slight buckling of her legs as she walked. “I think I may have put my recovery back a day or two.”

  “Tell me about it,” he said, feeling his rib cage.

  She came closer, and planted a kiss on his pajama top, where his ribs were. And then another on chest. And then finally another on his lips. Their lips dissolved into each other and they kissed gently, tenderly, for a while, before just lying next to each other, connected.

  “So...” he said.

  “So?”

  “I’m...” he hesitated. Dammit. Spit it out. “I’m—”

  “Pregnant?” she finished.

  He laughed, then the thought crossed his mind about her. She read his mind. “Don’t worry. They have these daily tablets nowadays. I don’t know if you’ve heard...”

  “Yeah.” He chuckled. “So what I meant to say is...”

  “Go on...”

  “Look... I’m sorry.”

  “Oh, really? Whatever could you be talking about?”

  Dammit, she was masterful at this teasing business. “I’m sorry for crashing into you.”

  “Just the once?”

  He propped himself up to address her, causing a stab of pain in his ribs. “Look, it’s just the way I am. I only know one way to race — and that’s to win.”

  Callie’s face made the change from wistful to serious. “Me too. But I don’t need to take other drivers out.”

  “It wasn’t all my fault this last time — you could have backed out, too.”

  “But why should I? Hey everybody! Drake wants to win, so if you see him coming, make sure you get out his way, now! I’m in it to win, too. We all are. What would be the point otherwise? It’s called ‘auto racing,’ not ‘auto friends.’”

  “Exactly! That’s my point. And I’ll do whatever is necessary to win.”

  “Drake, if you can’t win without cheating, then I don’t see the point. That’s the difference between me and you.”

  “Well, apart from...” he looked up and down her body.

  “Yes, apart from...”

  They chuckled together, and she leaned in and kissed him once more.

  The door opened. Callie leapt to a sitting position. The nurse eyed them both suspiciously.

  “We were discussing... race tactics,” said Callie, adopting an innocent expression.

  The nurse harrumphed. “I don’t suppose there’s any point in me taking anyone’s blood pressure now, is there?”

  The door closed again with the nurse on the other side.

  “Okay, look. I promise to race fairly. Well, more fairly.”

  She gave him a look.

  “I’m not going to let you win,” he said, exasperated.

  “I’m not asking you to. Just stop barging me off the track, that’s all.”

  “Okay,” he said. “It’s a deal. But you know... you are my biggest rival.”

  “You too,” she said, and dragged her lips across his stubble.

  They snuggled up, her on top of the sheets and him underneath — nurses be damned — and she slid into a deep, satisfying sleep.

  When she woke up the bed was empty, and all his things were gone.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  “I’m trying to run a professional racing team here.” Travis eyed the two of them in a headmasterly kind of way. “Accidents happen sometimes, sure. But there are simply no excuses for taking your teammate out.”

  It was true — the biggest crime in their game was taking your team mate out. This kind of thing was a PR disaster, and made the team look ridiculous to sponsors, the press, the other teams... everyone. Drake fidgeted uncomfortably. Callie figured it wasn’t just for the accidents — she was still pissed at him for leaving her in the hospital like that. I mean, hell, at least he didn’t try to leave her the bill this time. But only because the insurance had it covered.

  Travis obviously didn’t think the message was getting across to the two of them. “I don’t want you two banging into each other anymore! HAVE I MADE MYSELF CLEAR?”

  They both snickered, and she couldn’t help but flash him a wry smile. Her pubic bone was still tender from the collision — that of their two pelvises — and it was all she could do to stop herself thinking about them doing it.

  Damn it. He was such a jerk, but that feeling of having him inside her. It was just the best. She couldn’t remember the last time she had such a strong orgasm. And she couldn’t help but laugh at the thought of hiding behind the bed, still wobbly from post-coital dizziness, her knees killing her, trying to stop his fluids from oozing back out of her. She was sure this wasn’t the kind of rehabilitation that the hospital had in mind.

  Am I the only person who gets into these kinds of situations? Or is everybody else just not telling?

  In a way, it was probably for the best that he’d slipped out and left her once again, even if it w
as apparently another one of his less-appealing habits. She needed to compete against this guy, and how could they do that if they got too close? Some might argue that riding your rival to climax was already closer than most rivals got. It certainly wasn’t a problem most racing drivers were familiar with.

  So he couldn’t push her off the circuit again. That was fair enough, really. He’d never really felt comfortable with it as a tactic, and he did feel remorse about it; it was just so damned effective. But it was out of the question now, and not just because they’d discussed it. Seeing the impact of his actions had changed everything. There was something bigger at stake here: human life. And not just any human, but someone that he couldn’t help but admit he was deeply attracted to.

  Damn it, that sex was so good. That had to be one of the sexiest moment of his entire life, coming to and finding her there, wanting him. And the pain in his chest as she rode him was just phenomenal — he could barely breathe — but there was no way he was going to ask her to stop.

  And more than that. All those women he’d been with — and discarded — since he’d learned those hard lessons about love... the truth was that the moment he climaxed, within a second — no, a millisecond — he knew he didn’t want to be with them. His lust — perhaps even his need to prove that he could have her — had veiled his true feelings. In the bar, even in the bedroom, he could convince himself that they were someone he wanted — no, needed — but the instant the sex had come to an end, he was left with an overwhelming feeling of emptiness. He didn’t feel pleased with himself for getting laid — he just felt disappointed, and wanted them to leave as quickly as possible.

  But with Callie, it was different. He wasn’t leaving out of disappointment: he was leaving out of fear. Some part of him just wanting to succumb... to give in... to forget the championship, and just allow himself to fall for her. But then he only had to think back to how that had worked out the one previous time he’d allowed that to happen. He still had the tire tracks right across his heart from that one. No-one would ever get the chance to do that to him again.