Revolution: A Driven World Novel (The Driven World)

by Dr. Rebecca Sharp

  There were truths in this world that existed regardless of whether I wanted them to or not. One of those was that sexism was laced into the fabric of this industry. And whether it was blatant assault or subtle microaggressions, it was there and pathetically present.

  “I canna tell ye whether what ye did was right or wrong, lass, but can tell ye that yer one of the bravest women I know.” I rubbed her tears away. “And I can tell ye that ye may not have spoken in the technical sense, but ye sure as hell haven’t stayed silent.”

  I watched her process my words. Each furrow of her brow. Each flash of light in her eyes. Kacey Snyder had this admirable but tunnel-like determination. Somehow, she could do the right thing, but when she looked back at the situation, all she saw were all the ways it wasn’t enough—she wasn’t enough.

  “I didn’t want you to think less of me,” she confessed softly with flushed cheeks and her plump lips parted, reddened from crying and our earlier kiss.

  “I was wrong, lass,” I went on hoarsely. “I was wrong ta call ye emotional. I was wrong with how I wanted ta think about ye. But ye were so brazen and unexpected. Broke right through my guard before I even knew it happened and the only defense I had left was ta be cruel.” I grunted, my chest tightening. “I was wrong, Kacey, but fer nothin’ more so than fer wantin’ ye the way I do.”

  Her eyes slid up to mine, but it wasn’t acceptance or relief I saw in those deep blue seas. It was desire.

  “You’re not wrong about that,” she murmured, need darkening her eyes as she used her grip on my shirt to pull her face up to mine.

  I grunted, my cock—my body—painfully hard and desperately aching for her. Every single inch of me throbbed, like an engine spiraling higher toward its breaking point just waiting for the second the car was thrown into gear to shoot forward.

  Even as I fought it, my head drifted down to hers like a machine only made to do one thing.

  Taste her. Touch her. Have her.

  I shouldn’t.

  I had no room in my life for wants—only for those who needed me.

  I shouldn’t be allowed any wants… not when he was gone.

  But with each breath I took, her fresh citrus-honey scent drugged my cells with need. Her body pressed to mine was like fuel dumping onto an uncontrolled fire. But it was her plea that broke me—that made me want everything I couldn’t have which was the only thing I wanted—her.

  “Ye dinna know what yer askin’ fer, lass,” I growled, even as my mouth came within an inch of hers.

  “Or maybe I’m not the only one who is afraid, Garret,” she countered softly, her lips tracing the words onto mine, taunting me with their tender truths. “Maybe you’re afraid, too, and it’s time for us both to be brave.”

  My growl carved my rough response into the softness of her mouth as my lips crashed onto hers.

  I couldn’t deny her.

  I couldn’t deny what she incited in me.

  Rich awe.

  Raging desire.

  Raw need for something more.

  A complete revolution.

  Kacey

  I DIDN’T NEED TO HEAR him say I’d made the right choice—though hearing it certainly settled something turbulent inside me.

  I didn’t need to hear him apologize for how he’d treated me. I knew by now that Garret Gallagher was built of layers—of so many moving parts—that seeing his frustration burn out in my direction like molten rubber on the track was only a side effect of the power locked up inside him.

  But what I did need was this—was his kiss.

  I needed it like oxygen.

  I needed it like speed.

  Even though it didn’t fit into my dream, into my plan. In fact, it fought against every part of my life I thought I had figured out.

  For years, all I could see was the track. All my heart wanted was to be behind the wheel.

  But now, the only thing my heart craved was to be in his arms.

  And the second his mouth reclaimed mine, my body surged to life.

  Curling against him, my lip opened to let his tongue delve inside, spearing with mine. Each selfishly seeking to devour the other.

  His hands cupped my face, angling it for better access to my mouth, and I felt his fingers slide from the tears that hadn’t even had a chance to dry on my cheeks. But that was how he and I worked. We were poured from the same mold. Fused in the same fires. We sought out speed and seven-thousand RPMs like it was life.

  And this was no different.

  “Do ye know what yer askin’ for, lass?” he growled again, a whispered warning into my mouth that neither of us could heed.

  I sank my teeth into his lower lip and sucked hard, reveling in the way his lower body jerked against me, shoving the hard ridge of his cock into my stomach.

  “You.” I peeled my stiff fingers from the fabric of his shirt, sliding them up around his shoulders to spear through his thick hair, curling the silk strands in my grip and tugging his mouth back to mine.

  He was intoxicating like an acquired taste.

  Like the finest scotch that many would cringe and push away, there was a rich bite to him. An aged taste that was harsh a first. Raw on my taste buds. Raw on my body. But as he lingered, he infused every cell before washing down smooth right into the deepest parts of me.

  And I couldn’t stop grasping for more.

  His hands, forced from my face as I pressed closer to him, skated down my sides, leaving tracks of goosebumps in their wake, until they settled on my ass.

  A small moan slipped from my mouth to his at the feel of the tips of his fingers on the bare skin of my ass just below the edge of my shirt. With a low grunt, he brushed the barrier out of his way, sinking his grasp fully into the muscled swells of my ass.

  “As ye wish,” he growled just before I found myself hiked up against him, his length wedged between my thighs.

  Whimpering, I tried to rub against him—to get closer to the fire that would soothe my ache—as moisture soaked through my underwear, making them slide easily against the rough fabric of his pants.

  Garret hissed, the pressure on his cock pleasurable to the point of pain, before he redoubled his attention on my mouth in a punishing kiss.

  Next I knew, the warm grip on my ass was gone, replaced by the cool countertop of the kitchen island.

  His mouth slid from mine, biting a path along my jaw and down my neck. Demanding fingers pulled my shirt up over my head, leaving me naked except for my underwear as I sat on the counter in front of him.

  On display.

  “Jesus Christ…” The words came out in a pained whoosh as his gaze dropped to my breasts, swollen and pink-tipped as they rose and fell with my unsteady breaths.

  “Garret,” I pleaded when he continued to stare as though they were something remarkable. “They’re just breasts. I need you—”

  I gasped as one hand snaked around my back and wound in my hair, tugging my head backward roughly to expose my neck and arch my chest toward him.

  “When a man wants ta admire the most perfect tits he’s ever seen, ye don’t rush him, lass,” he said roughly into the corner of my neck, the heat of his breath, and the fire in his words, sending another drenching rush of desire between my legs.

  I gulped—or tried to.

  My nipples ached for his attention, so hard and gleaming red I was afraid the slightest touch would make my body disintegrate.

  Air inched into my lungs, preparing for the onslaught of sensations I knew was coming. And when I felt the large warmth of his palm cup under my breast, the oxygen in my lungs evacuated and my eyes sprung wide open.

  “This what ye want, lass?” he demanded roughly.

  I wanted to nod but I couldn’t, my head still imprisoned by his grip on my hair.

  “No,” I managed to moan, arching farther into his hold because it pushed my breast more firmly into his fingers. “More.”

  His only response was a feral grunt before my back was bowed harder—to the point of pain.
But the pain was eviscerated as he began to knead my swollen flesh. His grip was unyielding, my breast fitting completely in his grasp as he rubbed and plumped the tender flesh.

  Meanwhile, his mouth licked and sucked with bruising force down the side of my neck, heading for my other breast.

  The ache between my legs grew, but with him wedged between my thighs, I couldn’t rub them together nor rub myself against him to ease it.

  The build-up was excruciating—like revving an engine closer and closer to the red.

  I cried out as the roughened pads of his fingers skated to my nipple. Coarse skin against soft. Raw against tender. The sensations drove me wild and I tried to tip and tilt—anything to get closer. Anything to have more.

  And when he began to tug and roll the taut peak, sparks flew in my vision, exploding like little bursts of fuel igniting.

  His touch was rough and demanding—it was pleasure at two-hundred miles per hour. I couldn’t even cope with that sensation before I felt the wet velvet of his tongue marking the swell of my other breast.

  “Garret, please,” I whimpered, unsure what I was begging for. I wanted more, but more was going to send me over the edge very quickly.

  And I wanted him. I wanted the thickness I’d been pressed against to be inside me—needed it.

  “Shh, lass,” he rumbled quietly against my skin, the softness of his voice belying the tension rippling through his body, like a spring about to pop.

  Fierce lips closed over my nipple and sucked hard and my body lost it.

  My hips flew off the counter and jammed into his erection, both of us crying out with pleasure.

  “Christ.” His teeth bite into my nipple, punishing me even as he sought to reward me.

  His hand released my hair to slide down between us. My mouth fell open in anticipation as I watched him work to free himself from his pants.

  “Was hopin’ I might be able to get ye to the bed,” he grunted and winced as he pulled the long rod of his cock free. “But fuck, I need ta be inside ye.”

  Oh, God.

  The turgid length jutted out from a nest of hair that was just a shade deeper than that on his head. My mouth went dry, drinking in the sight of his thick cock, red and wrapped with veins all the way up to the blunt tip that beaded moisture. I wanted to touch him—grip him like he had me. I wanted to make him lose control.

  I squeaked as both hands grabbed my hips and yanked me to the edge of the counter, a second later ripping my underwear to get them out of the way.

  My breath stuck in my throat as he stared at my bare pussy.

  “Fuck, Kacey,” he groaned, reaching down and wrapping a hand around his erection as his head tipped back, strain rippling through every muscle on his body. And then his gaze locked on mine. “I don’t do this… I don’t… fuck. I don’t have a condom.”

  My chest caved, blurting out with almost embarrassed eagerness, “I’m on the pill, Garret.”

  Brimstone flared in his eyes as he released himself, his cock bobbing and growing impossibly thicker.

  Splaying a hand on my stomach possessively, he slid it down to the apex of my thighs. Taking his thumb and forefinger, he spread my slit wide and I balked, shuddering as the cool air rushed over my swollen clit.

  “Then tell me, lass,” he said with a low, gravelly voice. “How am I supposed to fit my cock inside this tiny cunt?”

  I whimpered, need rubbing each and every one of my cells raw.

  I could hardly feel my tongue—I could hardly feel anything except where he touched me—yet I heard myself challenge, “You’re the mechanic, G.” My voice was laden with desire. “You tell me.”

  His lip curled with a vicious growl before I was yanked to the edge of the counter, my mind barely having a second to register the sensation of the head of his cock burrowing into my slit before he was inside me.

  Painfully.

  Pleasurably.

  Completely.

  And it was everything my body needed.

  “Fuck…” With a long groan, he tipped over me, harsh breaths ravaging waves of heat against my skin. One hand gripped my chin, forcing my head to the side as he pressed his lips close to my ear. “Ye don’t call me that when I’m about ta be inside ye, understood?” I shuddered at the command. “Ye call me Garret when I’m buried deep in yer sweet cunt.”

  “Got it,” I murmured with a wiggle of my hips, desire revving at the limit in my body and I needed him to take me higher.

  He hissed and lifted himself to capture my gaze. “I want to be gentle with ye, lass, but ye won’t let me.”

  I dragged my tongue over my lips, feeling him swell larger inside me, pressing my sensitive walls even wider as my body soaked him with my desire.

  “You don’t want to be gentle with me,” I countered with trembling words. “You’re just frustrated because I don’t want you to be gentle with me either.” Biting my lip, I flexed my inner muscles around his cock causing him to jerk involuntarily against me. “Please, Garret.”

  His name had always been something between us. An intimacy he hadn’t wanted to share at the start and was now a commandment as he ravished my body.

  His restraint was abandoned with a violent curse.

  With one hand anchoring my waist and the other imprisoning my breast, he began to thrust into me with abandon.

  The strokes were long because he was long. And they were rough because we needed them to be.

  My nails scraped against the counter, wishing I had something to grab onto as he shoved into me over and over again. Each thrust sliding in easier and faster than the last as my body gushed around him.

  I’d never had sex like this.

  I’d gone on the pill to help keep things under control with racing. Before that, I’d never had unprotected sex.

  But this… the feel of raw slick sliding against my clenching muscles, the press of the smooth tip against my womb with each thrust… my body trembled as it pushed me to my limit.

  I wanted to come but I wanted to watch him more.

  The cords of his neck tightening, the sheen of sweat on his chest, the flex of his abs with each rough movement… it was beauty and power all wrapped into one man, and the sight spiraled me higher.

  “Garret,” I whimpered, gasping for air as I felt my orgasm rushing toward me.

  “Oh, yer gonna be louder than that, Kacey,” he growled with a low lilt on my name. “Ye feel my fingers, all rough on yer perfect skin?” I shivered, feeling his coarse touch everywhere even though I knew it wasn’t physically possible. “Ye feel my cock buried deep inside ye?” His hips slapped into mine, the sound a dominating crack of desire echoing through my bones as he sunk deep once more. “I know ye do. Christ, I feel yer tight little pussy squeezin’ me so fuckin’ fierce, lass. Like she canna decide whether she wants ta choke the life from me or coax my cock inta lettin’ her come.”

  I gasped, pleasure coursing hotly through my veins, his words magnifying each drive of his cock and exploding with a burst of pleasure each time he angled so deep and hit the elusive, exquisite spot inside me.

  “Oh, God,” I cried out, his thick head pushing on my G—fuck. “Garret!”

  It was his. It was his spot. His toy. His button to push.

  And each time it caused my sex to gush and suction around him, begging wordlessly for more.

  His machined grunts were low and steady, timed perfectly with each ragged thrust. “I’m goin’ ta make ye scream, lass,” he swore roughly. “Louder than the engines I build.”

  His words were dirty. Dirty like his job. Dirty like his clothes. Dirty like his hands. Dirty like I wanted. But dirty was just a disguise. It was a qualifier before the real race. It gave me a taste of what was going to come.

  What I really needed—what I didn’t need to beg for—was the way his hand moved from my hip, letting mine lift and grind freely into each spear of his cock. What I really needed was the way he pinched my nipple at the same time as his fingers found the swollen, burning bud of
my clit and demanded my orgasm from it. Not coaxed. Not teased. Drove.

  “Yer goin’ ta come fer me like a good lass,” he demanded roughly and squeezed.

  No hesitation.

  No mercy.

  He drove my orgasm from my body with a jolt of pure pleasure.

  My body spun out of control as I screamed. My heart rocketed well-beyond seven-thousand rpms as my vision went black.

  Pleasure exploded in each one of my cells, like a million miniature lightning bolts all striking my skin at the same time, heat and electricity radiated through me as my pussy spasmed violently with release.

  Just like everything else about him, the orgasm he wrought was painfully raw. It dragged me beyond my limit with the unyielding pull of an engine. Forward. Faster. Harder.

  In the midst of it all—my body fragmenting into a thousand perfect pieces—I watched him.

  I watched him slam into me with nothing holding him back. I forgot about breathing as I watched his muscles begin to seize with the start of his release. And, as my sex cinched with hard, unpracticed pulses, the hot length of him split me even wider and pushed even deeper.

  His gaze snapped to mine for a single, soul-shattering second. A second that said this was nothing he’d planned on but everything he’d kill to keep.

  A second that made my heart misfire with the wave of emotion it caused.

  And then his eyes squeezed shut, his head dropping back as he lodged completely inside me and his orgasm ripped from him. Like a wild animal, a roar exploded from his lips as the heavy pulse of his cock flooded my sex with hot cum.

  Minutes passed where the only movement was his body emptying into mine. Where the only sound was the tumbled breaths that tipped from our lips, our bodies desperately trying to find their way back down to a steady idle.

  It was the twitch of his fingers I felt first. The subtle hold on my breast tightened both instinctively and possessively and a shiver washed over me.

  “Garret,” I murmured his name, peeling my eyes open slowly to see him staring down at me once more.

  Intensely.

  Reverently.

  Still filled with longing.