Turn & Burn: Revenge is a Red-Headed B*tch (The 'Cuda Confessions Book 2)

by Eden Connor

  Colt’s moan shut off abruptly when I centered the dildo on his little rosette. I threw my weight behind the shaft, watching avidly as the head of the silicone cock breached the tight ring of muscle. Thrilling to the sound he made, I leaned in, pushing more into him.

  Gerald dipped his head, but Colt slammed a hand against the other man’s chest.

  “I gotta see her eyes.”

  Gerald looked from Colt to me, then nodded. “I should probably leave y’all alone.”

  “That wasn’t fifty bucks worth.” I frowned.

  “Says who?” Colt huffed.

  Gerald shook his head. “I never expected to collect. But, I feel like I’m in the way here. Listen, Shelby, what you did tonight was... pretty cool, actually. I’m sorry if my lie hurt you.”

  This place, this road, these people, had offered some hard lessons. But I’d learned I could stand on my own feet. And, if I was a freak, then I wasn’t alone.

  “I appreciate the apology, more than you know.” He zipped up and turned to walk away. “And, by the way, dude. It takes talent to swallow a fucking cock that size.”

  “It’s so nice to be appreciated.” He threw a smirk over his shoulder. “Merry Christmas, Shelby. See you around, Colt.” In a few steps, he’d melted into the darkness.

  I cut my eyes back to Colt. “I’m not gonna stop until you moan like a little bitch.”

  Returning his grin, I went to work, easing my hips back and forth, but the man’s part of fucking was harder than they made it look. I shifted my feet and thrust forward again, pleased when the dildo sank in deeper.

  “Ah! Fucking Jesus, right there,” Colt cried, grabbing my lube and coating his hand. “Stroke that spot, Shelby.” He wrapped his fist around his cock, rocking into his palm in the way I recalled so damn well.

  I’d found his prostate? I worked to keep my strokes short, blinking sweat from my eyes. Colt began to writhe. Every time I looked up, his eyes were riveted on my face. The glimpse of my arrogant stepbrother’s vulnerable side went to my head like a shot of tequila. I picked up the pace.

  “Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck.”

  “Hands off.” I popped his knuckles. Left to its own devices, the bobbing shaft drew a glistening arc on the skin above Colt’s navel.

  His muscles rippled, giving me hints about what felt good. Every time his face twisted with pleasure, the thrill of power zinged through my veins. No wonder guys loved to fuck. The experience, from this perspective, seemed godlike.

  “Fuck, Shelby. Please, baby. One of us has gotta touch my cock.”

  Flying on the high that came with control, I cupped his balls, rubbing the tender orbs with my thumb.

  “God, I’m dying. When I get loose, I’m gonna tear that little pussy up.”

  Oh, no. You’re not in charge here, Colt. I redoubled my efforts. He drove his fingers through my hair. I dug my nails into his balls. He released me and banged his head against the hood. “Goddammit, I’m dying here. Anything you want me to say, I’ll fucking say. But I have to come.”

  I squirted a dollop of lube into my palm, then grasped the thick shaft.

  It took concentration to stroke up and down with one hand while thrusting in and out of Colt. I had to grip the long dildo to be sure it didn’t bend, but I found a rhythm, reveling in Colt’s strangled cries every time I hit the right spot. As time passed, my aim got better. Every time he moaned, the echo rattled around inside me, striking sparks. This was heady stuff.

  “Oh, God, I’m gonna come,” Colt gasped. I angled his cock toward his chest. He jerked his shirt up, pinning it with his chin just before his spunk arced, lacing his abs. I shoved the dildo all the way into him, reveling in his strangled cry.

  Watching his chest heave and his cock jerk, triumph zinged through me. “Rub that in.”

  “W-what?” Colt let his legs fall. Locking them around my waist, he curled his torso off the car and stared with dazed eyes.

  I grabbed his wrist and laid his palm on his chest. “Rub that into your skin.” When he moved his hand in a circle, smearing the streaks of cum, I grinned.

  “Now, that was all me.”

  “You ain’t even gonna kiss me, are you?”

  I slapped him on the hip. “No, but if you’re got gas money, I’ll drive you to school. Such a naughty boy, letting your dick get all hard for another guy. That just makes my heart beat in my cunt.”

  His laughter rang in the quiet night. “Goddamn, look at you. All grown up and so fucking gorgeous, I can’t breathe.”

  “I think that’s because of this thing in your ass.” I waggled my brows.

  “You know I’m gonna fuck you senseless for this, right?”

  “Not tonight.” Giving him any control would spoil the incredible buzz in my head. I pulled away, eyes on the dildo.

  “I’m gonna walk funny for a week.” Colt groaned and pushed off the car. “I think I got some rags in the trunk. Jesus, this is messy.”

  While Colt cleaned up, I tossed the strap-on into his trunk. “What? You don’t wanna keep it?” he demanded. “You looked all righteous with that thing in your hand. Real avenging angel stuff.”

  I held up my hands and backed away. “Hell, no. That’s too much like work. I just wanna lie down and throw my legs in the air.” I swiped my hair out of my eyes with a forearm while he laughed. “To be honest, I don’t even like to be on top.”

  “Seems to me, it oughta be a basic human right to get fucked the way you like.” Colt slammed his trunk. “Guess I’ll see you back at the house. You get to close the barricades this time.”

  “What if I chip a nail?”

  “My ass hurts.” Colt used a high-pitched voice that sounded an awful lot like Caroline’s and poked out his lower lip. “I might even have cramps.” Moving suddenly, he squeezed me tight, shutting off my laughter and pressing a kiss to the top of my head. “Such a bad little bitch. Shelby, I’m sorry. I fucked up, big time. I’ve known that for a while now. I just—”

  Holy shit, was he crying?

  “I do love you. I swear to fucking God, I’m gonna find a way to make what I done to you right.” With a pat to my ass, he let me go. “Drive the speed limit going home, kid. I’ll leave the barricade open for you.”

  I climbed behind the wheel and cranked the ‘Cuda. Pulling around the edge of the circle, I took the spot Colt vacated, staring at the thick stand of trees. I dredged up the memory of the first time they’d brought me here—my first race from Caroline’s passenger seat, the sheriff, the beer bottle, the dazed hours afterward. Overhead, a blinking red light raced the stars.

  Hit me as many times as you need, Shelby.

  I forced the gearshift into second, wrenched the wheel to the left as far as it would go, and hit the gas. Tires chirped, then, as I accelerated, they screamed. Smoke drifted in and out of my headlights as the trees flashed by.

  Two.

  Three.

  Four.

  Five.

  After six circuits, I straightened the wheel and headed for Old Cottonmouth Road.

  One more ghost buried.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “So, you won.”

  I nearly jumped out of my shoes. Caine pushed off the rear end of Mom’s car. Slapping a hand to my chest, I gasped. He stepped out of the deep shadows under the carport.

  “You scared me out of a year’s growth.”

  “Oh, hell. You can’t afford that.”

  I shook my finger in his face, still feeling the buzz from fucking Colt zipping through my bloodstream. “Tell one more booster seat joke. I dare you.”

  He grabbed me by the waist and hoisted me into the air. “Now what’cha gonna do, bad ass?”

  I clasped his hips with my knees. “We could polish your wrenches.”

  He chuckled. “Tell me about the race first.”

  “I won. I have no idea by how much. I forgot Colt was there. It was dark and I was just flying.” He smelled like Dial soap. I wanted to snuggle close and inhale him.

 
“Did you record it on that dash cam?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I really want to see it.”

  “Okay. I need to upload Ernie’s video, anyway.” The contrast of heat rolling off Caine and the chill in the air had to be what made me shiver. “You grab the memory card. We can watch it on my laptop. I’m going to take a shower. And if there’s no hot water—”

  He rubbed his nose in my hair. “I like when you smell like gasoline. It turns me on. Are you sleepy?”

  “No, why?” My blood hummed with excitement. The last thing I wanted was sleep.

  “Grab your laptop, then. You have a DC charger. We’ll take it with us.”

  “With us? Where?” It had to be past one in the morning. This town rolled the streets up by eleven.

  “There’s something I want us to do. It’s not far.” He set me on my feet and patted my ass. “Hurry back.”

  I tiptoed upstairs and grabbed my Mac. When I stepped out of the room, Dale opened the door to the master bedroom. He put a finger to his lips, but raised his brows.

  I tiptoed close enough to whisper. “Kicked. His. Ass.”

  He grinned. “That’s my girl. One down, one to go.” With a wink, he backed into the bedroom and closed the door.

  For a moment, I stood stock still, staring at the door. That’s my girl.

  When I stepped outside, Caine was in the passenger seat of the ‘Cuda. He took my laptop and held it on his knee while I got in and buckled up.

  I backed out of the driveway and kept my speed sedate on the dirt lane. At the stop sign, he pointed right. I made the turn, but looked at him in surprise when he told me to turn down the curving road that led to the high school.

  “Think you can hit fourth before you run through that modular classroom?”

  Laughing, I roared down the road, slinging the car around the curves with the same abandon as Colt had done the first time he drove me to school.

  Caine yelled over the screaming tires, “Atta girl. Drive it like you stole it!”

  I plan on it.

  I flew past the spot on the road where Colt had parked the Corvette and touched off this insane thing between me and them. When I roared over the small hill, I slowed, rolling to a stop about twenty feet short of the stop sign, the same start line Caroline had made me use the afternoon of my eighteenth birthday. Letting the engine idle, I gauged the distance to the portable classroom, thanks to the scattered streetlights. The high school grounds hadn’t changed one bit.

  Caine cleared his throat. “Ready?”

  I took a deep breath, already attuned to every shudder and thump the big engine made. I stomped the gas. The front end bucked into the air, but I jammed into second before I hit the entrance to the student parking lot. As I crossed the second row of parking spaces, I shifted into third. We flew past the spot where Caroline and I sat in my car the day we got sent home after I jumped Marie Nixon. I popped the transmission into fourth, rocketing past the light pole where Colt had parked the Mustang the first time I ever saw it running—that same afternoon of my eighteenth birthday, when they both took me on the hood, then took me to the fairgrounds and taught me to race.

  I geared down into third with three rows of parking spaces left between the ‘Cuda and the curb in front of the classroom. Patting the brakes, I whipped the wheel forty-five degrees to the left. The rear end swung out and I went with the spin, whooping with delight as the car made an unaided one-eighty. I loved the way the new rubber shrieked.

  “Nailed it.” Shooting Caine a triumphant look, I slowed as I reached the center of the lot, noting that the scrubby trees between here and the road had grown. I couldn’t see the highway at all.

  Stopping under the same light where Colt had parked the Mustang that fateful night I turned eighteen, I put the transmission in neutral and turned off the engine.

  He shook his head. “You never touched that tranny till an hour ago and you fucking own it. Damndest thing I ever saw. You did not get that talent from Macy. I’ve had to replace her clutch twice this year alone.”

  “Isn’t it more of a skill?” I shrugged. “I mean, I do it every day. Once you learn it, you just do it without thinking.” I assumed everyone who drove a manual transmission drove the way I did. Except for Colt and Caine, I didn’t know one soul who drove a stick shift, so I had no way to compare. “Besides, I’ve not had it past fourth gear yet.”

  “Yes... and no. Yes, it’s a skill. But if just anyone could do it, everyone would be a racecar driver. You have something that can’t be taught. Reflexes are part of it, but it’s more like pure instinct.” I didn’t know how to respond, so I just basked in the glow his words brought. “Did Colt pay up when he lost?”

  “No.”

  His brows went up. “No? Good thing you got with Rowdy this afternoon.”

  I sighed loudly. “Sheriff Brown showed up. We didn’t even get off the line.”

  “That’s too bad.” I didn’t hear much sympathy in his tone. “Reckon that hood’s still warm?”

  A shiver started at the base of my neck and rushed down my spine. “Bet so.”

  “I guess I could be a gentleman and pick up Colt’s slack.”

  I couldn’t help it. I started laughing. “Gentleman,” I finally croaked.

  “That was harsh.” His injured tone kept me laughing. “Fine. I’ll just watch the video.”

  He jabbed the power button. While the laptop booted up, I pulled the memory card out of the dash cam and plugged it into the machine.

  “It’ll be two folders with a bunch of files, because it started before midnight and ended after. The software automatically cuts everything into fifteen-minute clips. Just download both folders to my desktop.”

  “We, uh, do use these in the racecars, you know.” He tapped the mousepad, his attention on the video that flared to life on the screen. I sat silent while he found the start of the race.

  “Jesus Christ. He’ll pout for a goddamn week. You beat his ass by more than a full car length and you were still accelerating at the finish line.” He shook his finger at the screen. “Boom. That’s how it’s fucking done!” He played the clip a second time, then unlatched the harness and shifted so he faced me. “Do you ever look at the tachometer?”

  I winced. “Don’t yell, but... no. The pitch tells me when I need to shift. I guess that’s why I never play the stereo. I’ve already got music to listen to.”

  Caine’s lips turned up in a rare smile.

  Oh, he’d grin. Whenever he’d laugh, his lips stretched wide. He’d pout and smirk. He’d do all sorts of things with that pretty mouth, but it never just turned up at the corners the way it did now. Maybe the soft expression was an effect of the bulb in the streetlight beside the front fender. Was it some off color cheapie, or going out? Maybe what I saw was nothing more than the glow off the laptop screen, but the longer we locked gazes, the more the dark depths of his eyes seemed to soften. A crazy tingle crept across my skin.

  The sensation was nothing I’d ever felt before, but it felt like something pushed an invisible force through me. A moment before, my heartbeat had mirrored the deep throb of the engine, but while Caine’s eyes bored into mine, it skipped, and took on a new beat. Bizarre warmth sank into my chest. The skin on my cheeks and lips tingled, but the heater wasn’t running. The longer we locked gazes, the more I felt... altered. Light. Different. Like I could dissolve in water or float away on a breeze.

  My pulse began to race. The heat... the sudden warmth making me sweat had to come from somewhere, but the glass wasn’t fogging over. An exhaust leak? Was that why my head felt so light?

  I had to look somewhere else, so I stared out over the hood, feeling like I needed to soak up the expanse of purple, because one way, or another, my time with the ‘Cuda was running out.

  It would never do to admit how addictive I found my stepbrothers. Every time I was near them, it was as if I got a whiff of gasoline when I came through the door and the fumes went straight to my head. And my foot. And
my sex.

  Perhaps thirty hours of my seventy-two hour visit had passed and where was I? Sitting in a spot where we had history, wondering if I should just forgive and forget. If history was anything to go by, those fumes wouldn’t let me see straight until I put some distance between us.

  Maybe I was looking at the upcoming race—and Harry’s idea—the wrong way. Throwing the race would put a stop to all these fake words and weird undercurrents. I’d be the stupid bitch who lost their beloved car. That might be the only thing that would keep me safe from these two, since I couldn’t seem to trust my own judgment if either was nearby.

  Caine closed the laptop and twisted to slide it into the rear floorboard. “Winner gets head. That’s an ironclad rule.” He opened his door.

  Half of my brain yelled for me to stay in my seat. A quarter of it screamed for me to drive off and let his Peeping Tom ass walk home. An eighth of it shrieked, run!

  I heeded the loudest message of all, the pounding force in my blood. If I threw the race, I’d be bulletproof. No matter what my stubborn heart did, they’d hate me. Right now, I needed this, by God, and I knew Caine would deliver. I slung my door open with a smile.

  We met at the pointed nose of the ‘Cuda. Caine gripped my waist with those big hands, lifting me onto the hood. The warmth of the metal was more intense than I remembered—hotter, sharper—infused with forbidden memories that made my nipples pound and my channel flood on contact. The heat sank through my skin, kindling a need that shook me to the bone.

  He took that cocky stance between my legs, studying me, stealing a drop of my will with each tilt of his head and flicker of his lashes. The light cast his lashes into long shadows that swept across razor-sharp cheekbones. Staring at his lips, I imagined some careful angel sculpting them, then standing back to admire his work. I already knew they felt like velvet.

  The devil was beautiful, too.

  My breath caught in a painful knot when he yanked my shirt over my head, discarding it beside me. I followed his fingertip to one hard point, watching him trace the line between my pale breast and rosy areola. The pink skin puckered like corduroy; the white skin prickled with goose bumps.