Racer (Real Book 7)

Racer

I’m restless as fuck. I glance at Lana across the track of the Bahrain Grand Prix.

We just arrived, and today she came to the track freshly showered, her face scrubbed of anything other than those cute freckles and that soft pink shade from too much sun exposure.

I like her without makeup. She’s wearing a little sweater, crossing her arms over her puckered nipples, and I can barely keep my hands to myself. When she’s cold, I want to be the one that warms her. I feel like she owns me, and I want to own her. But I still look at her and wonder how the fuck I’ll be able to deserve this girl.

The curse of being me, one I inherited from my father. He found someone to like that about him, at least to get him. I wonder if she’ll be the one to love and get every part of me.

Just thinking about it makes my pulse race. I’m masturbating several times a day now, can’t seem to be under control when I’m close to her. I want inside her. And I want it slowly. Breathe in her neck. Whisper in her ear. Make her remember the feel of me inside her when she’s not with me. I want her to move beneath me, scream my name, let me taste her mouth, taste and see the color of each damned moan.

Devour her slowly with kisses. Rock against her slowly, letting her absorb my length. Run my nose along her neck so my breath leaves a path on her skin that my tongue will soon trace. I want to memorize every scent, the one on her hair, her neck, her ear, her skin, her abdomen, her sweat, her sweet wet pussy.

Fuck.

I want her to teach my mouth what to do with her, what she likes, trace her goddamned shape.

But I promised her I’d take it slow, so here I am, in the back of the motorhome, shutting the door to the bedroom, stripping down my racing suit to my waist and shoving my hand into my boxers.

I pull out my hard cock, moving my fist over it, harder and harder. The door outside slams. Fuck. I let go as a spurt of cum shoots out. There’s a knock on the door.

I pull up my racing suit to my waist and stand as the door opens, and I look at her. “Everything all right?”

“Yeah.”

She moves inside and stops.

She glances down at me. I clench my fists at my sides, wanting to give it to her hard.

She notices the front of my pants and the large cum stain.

“Prepping before the race?” Her lips quirk.

“De-stressing some.”

Her eyes look heavy, as heavy as mine feel.

She approaches me slowly and feathers her hand over my dick. I just came some, but it goes from semi-hard to hard the moment she touches it.

“Look at you having fun all by yourself,” she breathes, looking up at me with lusty, gorgeous green eyes.

I shove my thumb into her mouth and make her eat the cum I have on my fingers from my blast, and she cups part of my cock, making me lean down to take her mouth and kiss her fiercely.

“I want you alone tonight for a while after the race,” I rasp, cupping her face.

“Okay,” she breathes, and my heart shudders in my chest as she suddenly kneels at my feet and sets a warm, soft kiss right on my dick before she rises back up.

“Okay,” she says again, her smile wide, her eyes so lusty for me I’m a dead man and I’d never been happier about it.

“I’m getting first place,” I gruff out, pecking her lips and stealing a taste with my tongue as she murmurs, yes.