by Hazel Parker
Table of Contents
The First Book of my MC Biker Collection
Keep in touch, stay luscious gorgeous!
Gratitude right here my friend!!
Mr. Gray
Teaser of Her First, Her Boss
Bonus Stuff!!!
More Steamy Stuff Right Here
Check out my other books!
Spoil your Sweet Spot…
[SBM1]
Copyright 2017 by Hazel Parker - All rights reserved.
In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher. All rights reserved.
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Mr. Gray
Full Throttle Series
By: Hazel Parker
Tables of Contents
Keep in touch, stay luscious gorgeous!
Gratitude right here my friend!!
Mr. Gray
Teaser of Her First, Her Boss
Bonus Stuff!!!
The First Book of my MC Biker Collection
More Steamy Stuff Right Here
Check out my other books!
Spoil your Sweet Spot…
Keep in touch, stay luscious gorgeous!
Do you love bad boys? Alphas? Billionaires? Bikers? Mountain Men? Older Men? Military? ‘Cause I got ‘em all baby (or they’re on their way)!!! Click here to join my newsletter and get an instant freebie delivered to your inbox. Then wait your gorgeous little self for the goodness to keep rolling in.
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The price is right, trust me ;)
You will ALSO find my MC Biker Romance book collection in the table of contents. The 1st book free just for you. Because I adore you!
Gratitude right here my friend!!
THANKS A MILLION!!!!
Indie Authors fight their way to try to keep up with the big wigs! It’s a daily struggle and I could not do it with my amazing ARC team. Their expertise in the reading of hot smutty books industry should never be undervalued!! You guys are seriously the foundation for every single book. Couldn’t be done without you.
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Hazel
Mr. Gray
CHAPTER ONE
GRAY
“For someone who has the last name Denton, I would think you would have a few dents in your car.”
As a pick-up line, that wasn’t the worst I heard in my life, considering I heard a lot. Stereotypically men were the ones with the cheesy pick-up lines, but you really ought to head to the night scenes where stalking the opposite sex for potential dates and hookups were rampant. Women were just as vicious as men.
This one wasn’t the cheesiest I have heard, either, but it was certainly up there.
I glanced at the woman sitting beside me in the passenger’s seat as I started the ignition and got my car running. I met her in the club I was hanging out in approximately an hour ago, and all I knew about her were two things: that her name was Annabelle and that all she wanted was a good ride. It was innuendo at its finest, and I shot her a grin in response to it and her “dent” words.
“I’ll show you a good ride,” I promised. Then I slammed the car in gear and cruised down the streets of Florida, intending to show her exactly what I meant.
It had been just a week ago when I’d had a different woman in my car, but the vibe was the same—the back and forth flirting, the heavy, suggestive sighing, and the anticipation that danced in the air. Annabelle crossed her legs as I pushed on the pedal, the car cruising faster down the half-empty streets. She’d requested the top up, not wanting to ruin her hair, and I complied, not wanting to ruin the atmosphere. We talked about trivial stuff—her hair appointment tomorrow, how hot I looked in my racing driver uniform during races, and how she’d been wanting to kiss me since she spotted me tonight.
The confession had me smirking, though I didn’t reciprocate the words. Annabelle was gorgeous, with the slim, trim body of a model and the face of a movie star—which meant any man would be stupid not to get charmed by her in an instant. Maybe I was a bit charmed…but I wasn’t hard.
Not yet.
As if Annabelle knew my exact train of thought, she leaned forward, showing off her fantastic cleavage in her low-cut dress. She breathed warmly in my ear, then began to trace kisses on my chin. It was a pleasant feeling, really, but it was the kind of pleasant that one could get from, say, watching a good movie or eating some spectacular food.
Some food would take the cake on this too.
Annabelle frowned after a while when she realized her ministrations weren’t working. She bit her lip, her hand going to my knee to squeeze it lightly. Then she began to slide her palm up to my thigh, rubbing suggestively while she eyed me. I shifted the car gear and drove even faster, thinking how good it would have been with the top down and the wind whipping on our faces. But the thrill was already starting to build up, so it didn’t matter—especially when her hand began to slide further up until it reached my cock. She certainly was a bold one, pressing twice before running her fingers experimentally. A gasp came out of her throat, and I knew what she was thinking without her having to say it.
She said it, anyway.
“You’re so big,” she marveled, her tone almost mesmerized. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched as she bit her lower lip before licking her upper one. “Can you stop the car so we can…?”
I shook my head. “No.”
Annabelle pouted. “But I want to touch you. How can…?”
I smirked in response. “You’ll just have to be creative, baby.”
The statement worked, and I watched as her eyes lit up with excitement at the challenge. Then she started unzipping my pants and sliding her hand in, bold and eager as she rubbed me. She gasped again as she came in contact with my bare cock, and I chuckled at her shock. I skipped the underwear today in favor of going commando, knowing tonight was one of those few nights I was going to have a good time. I felt myself hardening slowly, and I pushed the gas pedal even faster.
“Gray..?”
“Take me out,” I rasped, already in the moment. Annabelle did as I said. “Good girl.”
It turned her on—and in return, she wrapped her fingers around my shaft that was now jutting out, which turned me on even more. The combination of her skilled handy work and the speed of the car had me getting harder, and soon I was pulsing and gritting my teeth as the pleasure travelled all over my body. I’d missed this feeling and was just so damn relieved that I could have kissed her right then and there.
But Annabelle wanted to kiss something else.
She leaned down, her mouth touching the mushroom-shaped tip of my erection. Then she let out her tongue and took a dainty lick, which had me groaning in encouragement. I soothed her with words, telling her how good it felt. It only served to fuel her as she opened her mouth wider and swallowed me whole, though she couldn’t really stuff my full size in. But she tried, and the feeling of her warm,
wet mouth had my other hand going to her hair to guide her. She was skilled at this, too, using tongue licking and some sucking action to keep me satisfied.
As always, the tension built up in my belly, forming a ball of heat that curled and simmered before growing and spreading. Fire erupted in my system as she used all her skills on me, moans coming out of her mouth that said she enjoyed what she was doing. I almost closed my eyes but focused on the road instead, until everything became a blur. The thing was, I could still drive well even if everything was a blur, which was why I am one of the fastest, best race car drivers out there.
And I intended to make that reputation last.
The adrenaline rush got to me, along with Annabelle’s loudest moan yet. The fire reached that breaking point, and soon I was exploding all over, my balls tingling along with the orgasm. It was so intense that I had to grip the steering wheel and Annabelle’s hair tight as I savored the feeling and rode the continuous waves of pleasure that ripped through me. She eagerly swallowed my load, then sat back up and licked her lips in satisfaction.
Naughty, naughty woman.
After a while, I turned the wheel and slowed the car down until it came to a complete stop by the road and the beach. The windows were down, and the smell of the sea breeze was the perfect finishing. Beside me, Annabelle sighed.
“So the rumors were true,” she said.
I glanced in her direction, watching as she watched me in fascination. “What rumors?”
She smiled. “That you liked to drive while receiving a blowjob. I’ve never been with anyone who could concentrate that way.”
“I like to multitask,” was my response to that, not elaborating further. There were plenty of rumors about me, and it looked like this woman sought me out to find out if the rumors were true. That wasn’t anything new, though it was getting so common that it was verging on boring. Still, I wasn’t going to complain. As long as I got that long sought-out release, then let the rumors spread. I didn’t care a damn bit.
“Any other rumors going on about me that you’re curious about?” I asked.
Annabelle nodded. “Two. First is that you’re a virgin. Did you know about that?”
I clamped my mouth shut, not intending to comment on that. Of course, I knew about that. It had been a long-standing one, ever since I was in college and a freshman chick decided to spread it around after I turned down her offer of a hookup. Now, years later and some fame, this chick wanted to get in my pants, and I still turned her down. I guess rumors just didn’t die much, especially when it came to someone who was often seen on television or newspapers.
“Hmm. What else?”
“Second is that other than being a world-class race car driver, you’ve also got a world-class…tongue.”
I chuckled. Annabelle licked her lips again, waiting for my response. I watched as her nipples hardened beneath her white dress, an indication that she wasn’t wearing anything underneath. As if to prove it further, she spread her legs right then and there, showing me a glimpse of white thighs and wet core. It was yet another sight I was used to but had come to appreciate.
In fact, I was going to show her that appreciation right now.
Without warning, I closed Annabelle’s legs with my hands, surprising her. Then I yanked her on my lap, crushing my mouth on hers in a kiss meant to devour. She moaned in shock at the suddenness before she was moaning in wanton enjoyment and writhing.
I chuckled again. Then I pulled back and met her eyes.
“I’ll show you exactly what my tongue can do.”
*****
Two hours later, I was back in the club and trying to enjoy a drink with some of my friends, mostly composed of businessmen and racing staff employed by the owner of my car sponsorship. Most of my pit crew were old, so they didn’t really enjoy this kind of scene. Because I was at that age where I wasn’t so young that I could hit on every woman I met, or so old that I wanted to go home early and be a killjoy, I was one of the few who pretty much just sat there and absorbed the happenings going on around me.
The car owner himself wasn’t around, which made everyone rowdier than usual. While these men were people I got along with, I couldn’t exactly claim that we were that chummy, considering I only really hung out with them in places like these or at the race tracks. I had one best pal from my college days, but that guy was across the state doing his best to serve justice by apprehending criminals left and right and proudly wearing his cop uniform.
One of the businessmen tried chatting me up about a marketing proposal and an advertisement he wanted me to be a part of, but I evaded his offer and told him we should talk about it at lunch or dinner. I didn’t like talking about work in clubs, preferring to keep my personal and professional lives completely separate. Of course, the media made it a bit hard, but I got by just fine.
I always got by just fine.
An hour later, I was so bored that I ended up drinking more than usual. The crowd was getting louder, and a glance at my watch determined it was already past midnight. I was about to call it a night and bid goodbye to everyone when I felt a warm presence beside me, with a whiff of strong perfume filling my nostrils.
“Hey. Gray Denton, right? I noticed you were sitting solo and wanted to see if you’d like some company.”
It was a woman—a blond bombshell with red lips, a dress that stretched over her perky tits, and a smile that was definitely an invitation. She crossed her legs, making her dress hitch up until I could almost see her panties. I glanced at it in disinterest, but gave her an obliging smile, anyway.
“Actually, I was about to head out,” I said. “The scene’s getting pretty stale.”
Instead of backing off and taking that as a rejection, she merely smirked. “Tell me about it. I could see that you were bored and wanted to see if you’d like some action.”
“What kind of action?” I asked out of curiosity.
Her response was to pull my neck and kiss me with those red lips. Her kiss was more practiced than passionate, and she licked the side of my mouth for good measure. I waited for a stirring to happen, some kind of response inside me—but as always, there was none.
When she pulled back, she licked her lower lip. “That kind of action…in your car.”
Ah. Another woman who’d heard the “rumors.”
I already had a good time with Annabelle earlier before I sent her home and told her to sleep tight. Usually, I was satisfied with one, but the thought of doing it again in the car, of a warm mouth wrapped around my dick all over again as I drove faster and faster…
The first stirring of arousal came. I held on to it.
Then I smiled at her. “Why don’t you show me exactly what you mean?”
I’d take her up on what she’s offering.
CHAPTER TWO
GRAY
The incessant buzz of the alarm clock snapped me to attention, disrupting my semi-pleasant dream about going to some vacation island somewhere and just wasting the days away. It looked like Hawaii and felt like Hawaii, and suddenly the urge to go there was strong—stronger than the morning wood I had, which was slowly vanishing. Dimly, I shook my head, trying to clear it of any images this early in the morning. It was then I realized that there was a definitive pounding there, almost like a hammer was being thrown repeatedly on top of my head with no plans of stopping.
Damn headache.
With a groan, I sat up and rummaged inside the cabinet of my bedside table. I’d had enough headaches to last me a lifetime, and aspirin was the only remedy that really worked—that, and a good gulp of cold milk. I dry swallowed that aspirin now, then stumbled out of my sheets and straight into the shower, where I stood under the blessedly hot water.
Fifteen minutes later, I was feeling refreshed enough to get to the kitchen and prepare my breakfast, which consisted of that cold milk and some easy-cook eggs and toast. My nutritionist often advised me to get power drinks in as well as lots of vegetables, but three times a week I let myself i
ndulge, considering I wasn’t going to be this young to enjoy them for long.
I was just halfway through when my cell rang. I glanced at the caller ID, which indicated that it was my PR agent, Mark Thompson. He never called me this early in the morning, and suddenly a sinking feeling started in my stomach, making me not want to pick it up.
He called two more times, and both were directed to voicemail. I took an hour to go to my apartment building’s gym and get some workout in, and by the time I was back, there was a message waiting for me on my phone.
Check social media.
I did, browsing the pages until I found what Mark wanted me to find. The sinking feeling in my stomach started again as I saw pictures of me and a woman getting pretty chummy inside a club—the second woman I’d flirted with. But that wasn’t the worst thing.
There were also pictures of Annabelle as she straddled my lap in the car, and incriminating evidence of us locking lips with our hands hidden. This had to be after she made me come, and some nosy bystander spotted us and decided to have a little fun. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what we were doing—or had been doing, so to speak.
And it didn’t take a genius to know my boss was going to be pissed.
Fuck.
I sent a text back to Mark, telling him not to worry about it. He often endlessly worried about stuff, and I knew it was going to turn into an all-out railing session that I wasn’t ready for. Mark texted me back to call him, but I ignored the message and got ready.
After all, I had a race to get to.
*****
The race track in my hometown in Florida was one of the biggest in the state, and even though it was just a minor racing event, there were already plenty in attendance by the time I got there. Some of the pit crew I’d had some drinks with last night were already at work by the time I got to the garage, and a general round of greetings came before they all got back to work. My crew chief, a 40-year-old mechanic pro named Roger Stiles, got to business right away, discussing with me the updates they did to the race car and what I needed to watch out for. I didn’t spot my boss, aka the car owner, anywhere, and I took that as a good sign.