Hank pressed his lips to hers. “Relax.”
That was Julie’s problem. She was always in a hurry. She typically had somewhere she needed to be day before yesterday, or three days from tomorrow.
Wrapping her body in his arms, he savored the feeling of her body next to his. He ran his fingers up and down her shoulders, across her back, and toward her spine. She shivered as he caressed her and jerked when his fingers traced one of the permanent scars.
Julie would heal, but the reminders would forever remain. She’d almost died. He and Duke came close to losing her forever.
“Marry us,” Hank whispered across her lips. “Marry us, because you know you’ll never love again.”
“He’s right,” Duke assured her, pressing his lips to her cheek.
“I know,” she whispered, half dreamily.
“Then say yes,” Duke whispered, kissing her nape.
“Are you asking, too?”
Hank held his breath, anticipating what his brother would say. They’d discussed this before. They had options. They could each marry Julie in a different country or they could have a private ceremony. The third choice, one Hank hoped Duke wouldn’t mention, was for one to marry Julie, and the other to be her lover and as much a part of her life as the brother she took as her husband.
There were too many possible problems with the latter scenario, too many ways they could each later cry foul.
“Of course, I’m asking,” Duke said, winking. “I can’t think of anyone else I’d want to call Mrs. Hinman.”
Hank released a sudden sigh and Julie said, “You were worried there for a minute.”
“A little, yes,” he replied, the confession not an easy one to admit.
She pecked his lips and then turned to Duke and kissed him as well. “You are the greatest loves of my life. Of course I want to spend the rest of my life loving you.”
“It’s about time you realized you were still in love with us,” Duke teased, drawing her hands to his lips.
“She knew it all along,” Hank told him.
“He’s right of course,” Julie said, taking Duke’s hand and placing his fingers at her breast. “Now show me how lucky I’ll be when I become Mrs. Duke-Hank Hinman.”
Hank released an exaggerated sigh. “For a minute there, I was afraid you wouldn’t remember what we were doing when we were so rudely interrupted.”
“How could I forget,” she said, pushing him to the bed and climbing atop him. At the same time, her arm propelled by her hips and she placed a hand on Duke’s waist, guiding him behind her. “There’s lube in the drawer,” she informed him, giving Hank a saucy smile.
Duke walked around the bed, retrieved a tube of clear lubricant and returned with the fluid all over his fingers. Pressing his palm to her back, Duke encouraged her to resume her earlier position.
“Oh yes,” she whimpered as Hank entered her. “I believe we were just about right here.”
He pumped his cock inside her. “Here?” He went deeper. “Or was it right about here?”
“Uh-huh,” she muttered, awaiting the second penetration. “Yes. Right there. Perfect.”
Taking her hips to hand, Duke plunged inside her hole. Hank rammed his cock higher, fighting for space and earning his place.
Hank’s cock thrummed inside her hot channel and her pussy closed around him. He watched her face become aglow with lust. “You’re more beautiful now than I’ve ever seen you.”
“Hank,” she whispered, lowering her mouth to his, most likely in attempt to shut him up.
“You are,” Duke assured her too, not one to be outdone.
“Then both of you show me.”
“Not a problem,” Hank said, rooting his cock inside her pulsing walls. “Hang on, baby, this might be a rough and rowdy good time.”
* * * *
She was slippery when wet, but this was different. She was moist from front to back and getting wetter with every stroke.
Hank made love to her in a way he never had. His eyes followed hers as they watched their bodies move together, studying themselves in the full-length mirror located bedside. She wondered which one of them requested floor-to-ceiling mirrors.
Her money was on both.
Behind her, Duke held onto her ass, spreading her cheeks with his thumbs as he impaled her, fucked her, took and possessed her completely. “There,” he said, wedging his cock between her cheeks. “Ah yes, baby. Work those hips.”
Duke turned and watched, too. The way their bodies undulated together was the most erotic sight she’d ever seen. It was as if they were synchronized dancers swaying to their favorite song.
Her pussy was on fire, an inferno set to erupt as Hank locked his cock inside her cunt and stroked, even and fierce one minute and buck wild without a lick of direction, the next. Duke cursed as he tried to keep up, managed to follow the undetermined tempo and eventually set one of his own.
“Sweet heaven,” she purred, her eyes closing as her orgasm came closer. “Harder.”
They both complied.
“There,” she whispered, her body accepting them as they invaded her. “Slower.”
As if their cocks were on timers destined to perform the most sensual dance of a lifetime, they accommodated her as quickly as they were asked, slowing down the rhythm until she was going out of her mind, completely crazy with the new lust rising.
With grinding, painstakingly slow motions, Duke bumped against her bottom, his cock sliding in and out. “Don’t move,” he bit out.
She bucked against him in spite of herself and he immediately smacked her ass. “I told you not to move.”
“I need to come!” she exclaimed, understanding the need building between them. Hank bit down on his bottom lip. He fucked her then as if he’d never screw her again, and there wasn’t a question in her mind.
Hank was close. Duke was there. And she would probably explode twice before either of them reached a satisfying end.
“Son-of-a-blasted-bitch!” Duke exclaimed, pumping inside her. “Fuck! I lost it!” he screamed, paddling her behind. “Vixen!”
She twisted her ass and turned her head, tempting him with her kiss. His tongue pressed through the seam of her lips and he held onto her chin as Hank worked harder and harder for his release, too.
Hank stalled. Duke slid away. With him out of the picture, Hank shifted positions, tucked her body under his and fucked her until she swore under her breath. As the swearing began, so came the orgasms. And once they started, they went on and on. Kind of like the endless love she held for the two men who inspired them.
Chapter Eighteen
The next morning, Frank was out at the paddock. He leaned over the fence as he watched the horses frolicking in the field.
“Frank!” she called out as she ran toward him. “What are you doing here?”
He shook his head. “I don’t want any sass from you. I asked Duke to help me jump bail.”
“Frank, you weren’t in jail.”
He pressed his fingertips to his lips and said, “Shh, don’t tell that to my doctor. By the time Duke was finished with him, he wasn’t sure which one of us was crazy.”
“I doubt Duke was that convincing.” A silence lingered between them and she added, “Wait until I get my hands on that man. Look at you, Frank. You don’t have the energy to be out here right now. You’re not fully recovered.”
“I’m okay, little girl.”
“I don’t know what Duke was thinking.”
Frank arched a brow. “The doc thought he was persuasive, and he promised to keep an eye on me. I reckon he has a way with words when he’s determined to get his way.”
She smiled. “Okay. Point taken. Still, I thought the doctors wanted you to stay for observation.”
“I bled a lot because I take an aspirin a day and the damn pill thins my blood. That bullet barely grazed my skin.”
“I saw the hole in your side, Frank. It did a little more than scrape the outer layers.”
&nb
sp; “Hush about that,” he said, looping his arm through hers.
“I’ll be quiet for now, but you’re gonna take better care of yourself. I swear I’ll drive you back to the hospital myself if ya don’t.”
Frank leaned against the fence again and studied the horses. She stood beside him as she often did as a child, remembering the days when she used to stand at similar places and just watch the animals. “We’ll study on ’em for a bit,” she said.
Frank smiled and nodded. “You’re right. We will.”
She grinned. “That’s what you used to say to me.”
“I’m old, but I’ve still got my mind, little girl. I know damn good and well what we used to say to one another. Got them conversations stored to memory for safekeepin’ on the chance I don’t recall things like I should sometime in the future.”
She thought about that for a moment. Was Frank afraid he might be in the early stages of Alzheimer’s? Was he sick and just didn’t know how to tell her? As she debated on how to approach the subject, Frank shifted his weight from one foot to the next, stuffing his hands in his pockets like he had something on his mind and just didn’t quite know how to bring it up.
“Frank…”
“I loved your mother and she loved me,” Frank blurted out.
She smiled at the confession. Sometimes Frank worried about the oddest things.
“I reckon you had a right to know,” he said. “There now. You know. Ain’t nothing to discuss. Ain’t nothing to tell. I just didn’t want you to think that we were some kind of dirty little secret.”
“I knew that, Frank.”
“How would you know something like that? I reckon you wouldn’t remember me coming over to dinner when your daddy was out of town.”
She swallowed hard and watched the old man’s hands tremble. Placing her hand over his, she said, “Frank, you really have been like a father to me. I know in my heart that if my father had lived, he probably wouldn’t have given us the chance to get to know one another. What a great catastrophe that would’ve been if I couldn’t have lived my life with you by my side.”
“I reckon that’s right by me, too.”
“I reckon it is,” she drawled, starting toward the barn.
“Julie.” Hearing Frank say her name stopped her. She turned around and waited, ready to listen to whatever words of wisdom he wanted shared. He pointed toward the mare he’d just purchased and said, “You wanna know how come you were always able to ride these crazy horses?”
She waited for his explanation. Apparently Frank thought he had it all figured out.
“It’s not as complicated as you might think, even though you could handle ’em when grown men couldn’t.”
“I just loved horses. Maybe they sensed it.”
“Nope, but you’re close,” he said, his eyes following an older gelding as he loped through the pastures. “You had no fear. The men who sold these animals often called them beasts, the devil’s creatures, and all sorts of nasty names. Of course some of them had a good enough reason. Me and you, though, we never bought any of ’em. We knew if we brought a horse home, gave it some attention and tender loving care, eventually they’d come around.”
“We’ve never had one that didn’t,” she reminded him.
“You’re right about that. It’s because these horses never sensed you were afraid of them.”
“I wasn’t.”
“That’s right. I don’t recall you being scared of anything I brought home for you to ride. You used to tell me, ‘Frank, I’m a big girl now. I can ride ’em all.’ And I declare you believed that from the time you were yay high.” He held his hand down to his knee.
“I may have been a tad taller than that.”
“Not much.”
“You goin’ someplace with this, Frank?”
“Julie, I want you to give that car a fair shot. Get behind the wheel and get a good feel of her, and see what you think when you’re only here among friends.”
She winked. “That’s where I was headed before I got detained.”
“You were?” Frank asked, his furrowed brow suddenly relaxed.
“Yes, Frank. Someone I love very much once told me: ‘If you want to have something in life, you don’t quit. You push forward when everyone falls back. You run the race when the others give up. You get up when everyone stays down. And you never get out of the race car until you pull into winner’s circle. Nobody wants to see you when you lose anyhow. After you get to that finish line first, then you can step out of the car with your head held high. Otherwise, don’t get out of the car until you’re back in the pits. Your fans don’t want to see a loser. The fans are only interested in winners.’”
“I said that?”
“You did,” she replied.
“I was some kind of crazy bastard back in the day, huh?”
“It was sound advice for a race car driver.”
Frank squinted his eyes and used his tented hand to block the sun. “Have you seen any of those around here lately?”
“Looked at one in the mirror this morning,” she replied, tossing aside her cane and running up the hill. “It’s a new day here at Hinman Racing, Frank. You’d better brush off your breeches and get ready to work! We’ve got a long way to go if we’re gonna win some races!”
Epilogue
Bristol, Tennessee
August 2011
Hank and Duke tried their best to help her relax. Duke rubbed her ankles and feet, even though they were covered in fireproof sneakers, while Hank massaged her shoulders. Frank paced back and forth in front of them, which may have been why she was so nervous in the first place.
“We’ve got less than ten. Less than ten,” he reported. “Ten and countin’.”
“Frank, it’s gonna be fine,” Julie assured him, taking a deep breath, wishing the first race was behind her.
“All right,” he said, squatting in front of her. “Let’s go over the strategy one more time.”
Before Frank had the chance to discuss how she’d win the race—and in Frank’s head she’d already claimed the victory—her lead mechanic yelled, “It’s time, Julie!”
“It’s time, little girl,” Frank said excitedly, yanking her away from the chair. “There’s no way we can go over everything again. Do you need to ask me any questions?”
“Frank,” she said patiently. “I can talk to you throughout the race, remember?”
“Yeah, yeah. That’s right. We’ll have us a good time out there today, won’t we?”
His enthusiasm touched her. If Julie had only known how much this meant to Frank, she would’ve made the switch from dragsters to stock cars long before now. Then again, the experience changed her life.
She strolled toward her car with the men she loved most walking behind her—Frank, Hank, and Duke. Lined up with the other competitors, Julie stood beside the machine love built, and couldn’t help but hold her head high with pride. Other drivers hugged their families. Most of them said good-bye to their wives. A few of them embraced their children or kissed a girlfriend farewell.
In racing, the drivers recognized the last kiss or hug before an event could be the final kiss or hug good-bye. Without thinking—not that it would’ve mattered, if she’d stopped to consider the potential fallout or media attention—she grabbed Hank and hugged him. When he released her too soon, she grabbed him again and kissed him like tomorrow would never come. Then, she turned to Duke and kissed him, too.
“You’re gonna cause a stink, little girl,” Frank told her when she pecked his cheek.
“I hope so,” she said. “That’s what I love about racing.”
“What’s that?” Frank asked, arching a brow.
“It’s a man’s world. It’s the only place a woman can act like a man without getting condemned.”
“I don’t know about that,” Hank said, tapping the car roof when she finally took her seat and secured the safety belts. “Good luck out there.”
“We don’t need much, do we
, Frank?”
“No, little girl. We got all the luck we need between you and me.”
After the national anthem, the fighter jets flew overhead. As they ripped through the air, Julie thought about the fears she didn’t have then. In many ways, Frank’s life philosophies were right. The art of winning a race often came down to the man or woman who believed they’d already won.
“Here we go, boys,” she said, waving good-bye. “I’ll see you on the start side of the finish line, Frank.”
“I’ll be there!”
She never doubted that for a second. In his mind, she was the clear winner. Now, she had to show the world what made a champion in stock car racing.
With stark determination, she clutched her steering wheel. The Master of Ceremonies took the microphone. “Men and women, start your engines!”
“Go on out there and win this race!” Duke exclaimed.
“We’ll do it,” she assured him and winked at Hank. “You two hang around. After I win this thing, I’ll be ready to celebrate.”
“After you win this thing, we may take you out and marry you,” Duke teased.
“As long as I don’t have to say ‘to have and to hold,’ we should be okay.”
“What?” Hank screeched, yelling over the roar of engines.
The cars started darting out of the pits taking their place on the track. Before she pulled out, she called out behind her, “You’d have to catch me first!”
THE END
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Natalie Acres is one pseudonym for a bestselling Tennessee author multi-published in several genres. Natalie writes exclusively for Siren Publishing.
Also by Natalie Acres
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