by Katy Evans
“I’m not going anywhere, sweetheart,” he reassures me as he curls his palm around my cheek and scrapes his thumb along my lower lip, his eyes bright and fiery. “I want to make you feel so good you’ll scream from it—you’ll think you’re floating tomorrow. But right now I’m going to thrust into you so hard you’ll think you’re breaking. ‘Cause I swear to god every time you look at me with desire in your eyes, you’re breaking me.”
He tugs my jeans down, and then my panties. I feel completely exposed as he nudges my legs apart and runs his greedy gaze along my pussy. “Fucking perfect,” he rasps, his gaze bright blue as he feathers his finger over my folds.
He frees his cock and teases my folds with the tip of his thick length, and I almost come by this.
“Take me,” he growls.
I’m practically breaking from the pleasure.
He cups my breast. My nipple is puckered and sensitive and every time he rubs the pad of his thumb across the peak I nearly spasm from how good it feels. And as he drives inside me, I have never in my life felt so full.
“Take me,” he says again, driving into me.
I take him with a groan, arching up, nails in his scalp, teeth in his jaw.
“Fuck! FUCK!” he growls, pulling out.
I watch him struggle to find something in his jeans, then he pulls out the condom and slides it on.
I almost tell him to forget it.
I think he notices my desperation when he looks down at me. Because something in him seems to snap. Something in me seems to snap. We’re suddenly tearing at each other’s very skin as he lifts me up in his arms.
He carries me to the bed and falls down on top of me.
“Oh god,” I plead, clutching his jaw as our mouths twirl and fight around.
He grabs my face and presses his mouth down harder on mine, groaning when I open without a fight.
“God, I’ve been hungering for this sweet mouth, this sweet bod of yours.” He holds me still as he twists his head this way and that, doing things to my mouth that should be outlawed, accessing from one side and then the other, his tongue tasting and taking everything while his hands simply hold me here—breathless, toe-curling, tingling in every pore—as Racer’s tongue moves and takes. And takes. And takes.
And I let him take because my whole body is a live flame, because every time he takes from me I want to give him more, because every time he takes from me he fills me with the most delicious sensations, the most wicked sensations, the most pleasurable feelings I’ve ever had in my life. His kisses are driving my heart to near heart attack and my lungs to work like crazy, and my skin to pull taut, and my muscles to constrict with waiting.
“You okay with this, huh?” he growls, easing back to look at me, panting hard.
He’s spread out his body over mine, the muscles of his shoulders rippling as he curls his arms at my sides and frames my face with his hands as I nod.
I nod and nod frantically, looking into his eyes, seeing something very deep and raw inside those dark baby blues.
“Fuck me, girl,” he hisses to himself as he smothers my mouth with his, his mouth wet and passionate as he strokes his right hand down my front, squeezing my breast like he just needed to be unleashed.
His cock drifts along my folds, to and fro, teasingly.
My eyes drift shut and I hear myself groan softly. I swear I’d never before in my life heard myself make this kind of noise.
Racer is breathing hard, in the dark.
His own breaths mingle with my own and with the sound of his hands, stroking across my skin.
It feels so good, I am shivering uncontrollably, his body hot as he looms above me, one of his thighs jammed between mine, his chest close to my own, so that every simultaneous breath of ours makes my nipples nearly touch his own.
He’s got really tough palms—the palms of a guy that’s holding a steering wheel for hours straight, fighting against it even when it wants to pull back. Feeling his strong, large hands cup my breasts makes me feel about as physically fragile as I am feeling emotionally fragile right now.
Right now as his wet mouth seeks the tip of my other nipple. Finds it. Laves it. Suckles it. His breath hot and coming out in fast blasts, his tongue snaking out to taste and torture the peak to a full stand.
“You’re gorgeous, Lana. I can’t get over how wet and tight your pussy felt around my dick with no condom on,” he rasps as he keeps kissing me wetly, one nipple, then the other, and then my mouth again. He grinds himself gently but firmly against me.
Shivers race down my body as I nod, sliding my hands over the back of his head as I impulsively kiss his jaw, never in my life so hungry for anything. For a guy. For this guy.
“Good?” He rocks against me, ducking his head to taste and suck on my nipple as his hand squeezes my flesh, pushing out the tip for his suckling, hot, ravenous mouth.
“So good,” I rasp. My fingers trace up the back of his arms and over his hair, memorizing his skull.
“How much do you want this? How much do you want this, do you want it like this?” His voice is thick and raspy as he speaks, and he moves harder against me, grabbing his cock and pressing it to my entrance once more.
I’d been aching for it.
Dying for it.
“Yes,” I bubble out.
“Don’t stop looking at me, huh. I want to drown in those fucking eyes.”
I can’t believe he’s pressing his dick into my opening. I can’t believe I’m feeling the head of his cock part me open and then … start driving in. I cannot believe all of this as I stare back into his blue eyes. “I’m drowning in yours and in you,” I breathe.
He keeps grabbing his cock by the base as he gives it to me, inch by inch, never once taking his eyes off my face as he goes in—opening me completely. My breath snags in my throat—the feel of him stretching me taking all of my oxygen from my lungs.
“Oh god.” I claw him closer, hips tilting upward as I press my mouth to his jaw.
“Racer,” I plead against his hard jaw, my eyes closed as I blindly search his mouth. He turns his head and gives it to me, soft but firm, driving the last inches inside me.
We moan at the same time, his arms clenching around me before he releases one to brace himself up on his arms as if to keep from crushing me. He starts to move, the shadows playing across his handsome face, his features etched in pleasure, both of us watching each other even as our bodies strain to get closer, to take more of and from the other, our hips sort of working in unison.
“Look at me, Lana.” His thrusts become faster and deeper. “Let my eyes see it. Let my dick feel it, every ripple, every squeeze.”
It could break me, that tenderness on his face. The gleam in his blue eyes, the way he stares down at me like I’m so right, so right he couldn’t have imagined anything better.
But to see his face undone like this? Nothing prepared me for how hot it would make me, how turned on. I sink my nails on his butt, squeeze the RT tattoo on his ass and get all of RT in me, deeper and harder and faster.
“Racer …”
He grabs my hair in a fist and starts to kiss me voraciously. He smothers my mouth, thrusting me with fast, nearly too-fast jerks of his hips and tongue.
“Fuuuck,” he groans.
He comes really hard. I feel his cock jerk inside me before he pulls out and, keeping a fist on his cock and yanking off the condom, he works the length of his cock as streams of semen explode into the air. Still jerking on himself, he spreads his semen all over my abdomen, his eyes the most brilliant I’ve ever seen them, his face etched in pleasure and heat and possessiveness as he bathes me with him.
“Oh god,” I groan as he uses his other hand to stroke a finger over my sensitive spot, one hand on his cock, the other on my pussy. His pussy.
I come.
We pant as we recover.
“You felt too good,” I breathe.
He’s up on his knees between my legs, and I’m lying on the bed, panting as
his chest heaves with his harsh breaths too.
I hold his gaze, reach down with my hand to his semen on my stomach, and I rub my fingertip against the wetness and bring it up to my mouth. I lick it up, and his eyebrows raise, then his lips curve at the corner.
“You like that?” he asks.
I nod quietly, and he reaches out to rub his finger over the wetness, bringing more cum to my mouth. I lick it, and the completely wild look in his gorgeous eyes is getting excited again, wanting me again.
“You like that?” I ask, noticing the way it seems to turn him on.
He grins. “You have no idea,” he says, before he shows me just how much it turns him on.
Lana
He’s driving Dolly this weekend while Kelsey gets fixed up, and he asks for me on the headset again. He’s racing from the very back, because when he flipped during qualifying, his position suffered.
He’s been advancing every damn turn—going from P16, to P14, to P13.
“He wants you,” Clay says again.
I hesitate, noticing Clay doesn’t seem irritated anymore.
“He focuses better. Haven’t you noticed? His best times come when you’re on the radio with him.”
My eyes widen; and I feel my hand tremble slightly as I step forward, take the headset, and slip it on.
“You’re coming up behind P10. Your lap timing is close to P1, so if you keep this up …”
I watch him pass.
“P10!” I say. “Coming up behind P9 …” I check his time then. “You just broke the track record for fastest lap.”
“Dinner, Lana,” I suddenly hear his low, slightly dehydrated, sexy-as-fuck voice rumbling just like the motor in the background.
“What.”
“Go out to dinner with me.”
“Is this why you wanted me on? Are you inviting me out during a race?”
“Yeah, and I’m going to win again.”
I smile.
“Lana,” he prods.
Silence.
“Crasher …” He warns, sounding a little cocky. “You go out with me and you’ll never look back. I swear, baby.”
“Yes,” I breathe. “Yes, I’ll go to dinner with you,” I say.
Racer
She stayed in my room. Hell if I got any sleep at all. I counted her damn freckles.
Stroked my hand down her back feeling every bump of her spine. Savored her smell like nobody’s business. Fucking ready for the next round when she shifts against me.
She stirs awake, the sheets tangled at our feet, both of us bare fuck naked and my cock is quick to remind me. She starts upright and seems to panic, glancing around the room. “What time is it?”
“It’s an off day,” I rasp out, taking in her tangled hair and her kiss-swollen lips with pure male pride.
“I probably need to get my dad some breakfast,” she says, rolling to the edge of the bed to dial his room.
“Daddy!” she says when he picks up. “Good morning. Have you had breakfast?”
I head over to the bathroom to pee and brush my teeth while I listen to her telling her dad she’s going to rest for a bit. As I brush my teeth, I take in her reflection in the mirror while she sits on the bed, the sheets at her waist with her tits poking out, her eyes trailing over my ass and admiring the tattoo of my initials with pure feminine lust because she thinks I’m not looking.
Her eyes widen when our eyes connect in the mirror, and I feel my lips pull up as I wash off my toothbrush, spit out the rest of my toothpaste, and head back into the room feeling very, very hungry and damn possessive of her.
She is, after all, the girl I want to spend the rest of my life with.
Also, and this must be said: she’s the loveliest thing I’ve ever seen.
She shudders on the bed as if she can feel the heat inside me already, pulling the sheet up to her tits.
Her eyes drift down my chest, along my pecs, my ab muscles, down to my very hard cock.
She licks her lips. “Do we have more condoms?” She sounds breathless as she speaks, flushing head to toe as if my mouth hadn’t sucked on those pretty little nipples of hers all night long.
“Nightstand. Or maybe my duffel.” I lean over to check the nightstand while Lana wraps the sheets around her and leaps off the bed to search my duffel. “What are these for?” I hear her ask a moment later.
Glancing past my shoulder as I shut the drawer, I raise my brows and stare at the orange bottle in her hand.
My goddamned lithium pills.
For a moment, I just stare at her, my voice gruff and low. “Emergencies.”
“What kind of emergencies?”
Silence.
I grab them and toss them back into the duffel.
“Come on. Tell me. What are they for? Nothing came out in your physical,” she says.
She frowns at me as she comes back to bed, clutching the sheets to her chest.
I sit down on the side of the bed and drag a hand over the back of my neck, shifting to look at her.
“Racer!” she says.
Yeah, this isn’t how I planned to break it to her.
“I’m manic-depressive,” I husk out.
For a fraction of a second, she doesn’t move.
It feels like it takes a moment for her to piece it together. She stares in puzzlement, and for a second, I dread the look in her eyes changing.
It doesn’t.
They shine in concern. I’m used to lust, but concern from a girl other than my mother and sister? No.
“Manic depressive is …”
“Bipolar,” I say, softly.
“But your physical …”
“It’s not active right now.” I shake my head, clenching my hands at my sides in frustration. This is definitely not how I planned to do this. Fuck me.
“When is it active?”
“I don’t know. Randomly. I haven’t figured out my triggers yet.” I watch her look at me, those gorgeous eyes showing every emotion on her face. Concern, puzzlement, worry.
“So, what is it like? How do you feel when …” She trails off, staring at me.
“Sometimes on top of the world. Sometimes at the bottom, scraping to get up,” I admit.
Those eyes of hers?
Fuck, they’re killing me.
The concern there, the genuine shock and emotion there. I stroke a hand down the back of her head. “I’m okay,” I husk.
“Are you?”
“Fuck yes.” I grin.
But those eyes start to water now. She drops her face and swallows.
I curse softly and reach out to pull her closer to me.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asks. The hurt in her voice nearly cuts me open.
I rake my hands through my hair, shaking my head as a shit-ton of frustration hits me where it damn hurts. “Come on, Lana. Why do you think?”
She looks away, and I can’t fucking have that. I curse under my breath and seize her shoulders.
“Lana,” I say, low but firm. “Look at me.”
She squeezes her eyes shut and presses her cheek to my hand as if she needs my touch for balance. But it fucking unbalances me. Never felt pity for me. Too many good things in my life. I leave that for an episode when it all comes flooding me. But seeing her pain for me cuts me deep, and for a second, I wonder if I’m fucking selfish to want her.
If she wouldn’t be better off without me.
No, she wouldn’t, because I would walk on water, part oceans, and fucking turn green and three times my size for this girl.
I kiss her eyelids.
"I’m fucking okay. All right?"
She raises her eyes, and bites down on her lip, her eyebrows still joined in a frown of bewildered confusion.
“When were you going to tell me?”
I drink in her features and run my thumb gently down her jawline. “After we won the Grand Prix.” I hold her gaze and will her to know how damn much she means to me. “This isn’t how I wanted to tell you.”
/> “How were you going to do it?”
I smile and almost fucking laugh, ‘cause that’s how fucked up this is. “Hell, I don’t know. Wine you, dine you, ease you into it. Make you wet for it.” I smirk at my own words, but she doesn’t, and my smile fades.
“I told you about David, Racer,” she says, still disappointed and fuck, I know she opened up. I know she wants me to trust her but this isn’t something you just tell a girl like that. Not the one you want to fall for you.
“This is different, Lana.”
“Why?”
“This is my fucking life,” I growl, seizing her face in one hand and drinking in those bewildered green eyes. “And I want you to be a part of it.”
Those eyes seem to flicker at my words.
“I didn’t want to scare you away,” I tell her, resting my head on hers as I inhale and grit out the rest. “Yes, I have it. I can hurt you, Lana. But I’ve never wanted anything so much in my life.” I fist her hair in my hand and urge her to keep her eyes on mine. “I want you for real, and I know you want me too. It’s all there, Lana. In your eyes. It’s all there for me to see. I’m going to be okay. I’m going to fight to be okay. I’m the son of one of the world’s greatest fighters, I know how to put up a fight, and I’ll never stop putting it up against this.”
A shudder wracks her body, and when she exhales a deep breath, I do too.
She bites down on her lip and looks at me.
“Tell me about it.”
Hell, I don’t like getting into details. This is my Achilles heel after all. I don’t like remembering it’s there and live my life like it’s not.
But she wants to know. And I want to tell her. Be as real as possible with her.
“Some switch goes off in my head—and I’m either feeling immortal or like I want to die that day.”
“Racer,” she breathes, and I want to punch myself for admitting it so blatantly.
I stop her from turning her face away. “Hey,” I command, looking into her eyes. “Yes, I have it, and it can’t be easy to be with me when I do, but I’ve never wanted anything so much in my life the way I want you, crasher.” I fist my hand in her hair and force her to look up at me. “I want you like nothing in my whole goddamned life, and I’d kill myself before I ever deliberately hurt you. Do you understand?”