Racer (Real Book 7)

Lana

I try to calm down for a few minutes, alone in my room, trying to gather my thoughts, but my heart still won’t stop feeling heavy and crazy in my chest. My hands are shaking, and even my legs are quivering from the fright. I pull out my phone and I send Racer a text.

I just want to know he’s okay. That he’s aware of his mistake and will be more careful.

But what I REALLY want is maybe for him to promise me that I will never in my life have to see him flip like that again.

Can you talk?

R.T.: Downstairs at the bar

You don’t drink … I text, frowning.

He sends me an image of an empty tequila shot.

My frown deepens, and I head back downstairs, trying to calm my racing heart, but I think I might need a little sugar for the scare. My brain keeps replaying as Kelsey flipped in the air, and all I could think of was Racer.

His dimple.

His playful blue eyes.

And wanting to die.

I spot him at the bar, nursing his drink, and my stomach shudders uncontrollably. I don’t think I’ve ever been so scared at the track. It’s always frightening to see an accident … but today, the guy in the accident was …

HIM.

My knees quake as I take the seat next to his.

His body heat envelops me. He looks about as sturdy as stone, like nobody can hurt him. And suddenly I can’t bear to think of what I’d do if he got hurt.

His hand runs across his jaw as he shakes his head in frustration and eyes me. “I am not feeling quite right, right now, Lana. And I don’t want to say shit to hurt you, and I’m mad at myself.” His eyes are a stormy dark blue that take my breath away. “I don’t want you to hate me. You fucking get that?” That restless little muscle tics in the back of his jaw again. “So leave. Now.”

“I don’t want to,” I croak. “What’s wrong?”

I don’t reach out to touch him; I can sense the energy simmering, just beneath the surface of his clothes. But I sit here, beside him, feeling my own body sort of feel unsettled because his is. Because he is.

“What is it that you’re hiding?” I ask him. “Your physical came out great. You’re in top shape. You’re a serious athlete. You eat right, you pay attention to what goes into your body, you’re disciplined. I’ve never had a driver with your dedication to health.”

“Not everything can be measured in tests … not everything is static. Situations change. In the blink of an eye, they change.”

“What’s changed?”

He clenches his jaw, shakes his head. “Nothing. But I don’t want it to. I fucked up. I’m fucking sorry.” He squeezes his jaw really tight. “I don’t know why I … I wanted to slam Clark into the wall. I’ve never been jealous before.”

“Jealous over what?”

“You.”

I’m still trembling from the scare he gave me. “Clark is an asshole.”

“He wants what’s mine!” he growls.

“I’m not … Racer. Goddammit! What the fuck. Were you concentrating at all? You flipped and could have fucking died. What were you thinking?!”

“Your pussy.” His eyes flash darkly. “Your sweet wet pussy craving me and only me, taking me and only me.” He looks a little wild as he grabs my elbow, tugging me close until our foreheads touch and our eyes are locked. “Tell me you want me, all of me.”

My throat closes as he lifts his eyes from my mouth to mine, and they look dark and tortured.

“I was scared, you jerk.” I punch his arm, a little harder than I expected, not that it has any effect at all. “Don’t do that again. I was fucking scared!”

His eyes widen in shock, and I realize my voice sounds uneven and that I’m not really stable myself. He’s right, I should leave, so I whip up to my feet and start walking away toward the elevator.

He comes up behind me, following me into the elevator like a black storm.

“What the fuck?! You think I wanted to screw up?” he demands, grabbing my shoulders and forcing me to turn.

I clench my lips together, my eyes watering.

“I don’t want to care about you! I’m already losing my dad, day by day, I already lost the only boy I ever loved, and I don’t want to lose you. You fucking asshole!” I punch him, and he grabs my wrist to stop me.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he rasps, his eyes vivid with emotion.

I swallow the lump in my throat and when the doors open, I wiggle my wrist free and hurry towards my room, afraid I’m going to cry.

He plants an arm around me and cages me against my door, breathing in the back of my ear, “Turn around and look at me. I’m not going anywhere. I’m the best driver in the world, remember.”

“No you’re not.” I swallow and open the door, walk inside and avoid turning to look at him, but he walks in behind me, kicking the door shut behind him.

“Yes I am. Best kisser, too.” He grabs me up in his arms, turns me around, and lifts me, and suddenly everything I feel is unleashed in the kiss he gives me and that I give him back. He fucks my tongue almost as if our lives depend on it, and he squeezes my ass as my mouth attacks his in return, my nails in his scalp as we devour each other.

He thrusts me against the door.

I claw my nails down his arms and tug at his shirt, suddenly not wanting this shirt, not wanting anything between us, nothing to keep me from tasting him, feeling him.

I’ve got his shirt halfway over his dark head when he helps me by yanking it up with one fist. His hair stands up on end as he tosses it aside and dives back for my mouth, stealing his hands under my top. I shudder when his fingers make contact with my skin, and I make a soft sound against his mouth, like a moan.

“You like that?” he rasps against my mouth, easing back to look down at me. He’s shirtless, his hair chaotic, and his one dimple appears as I nod vigorously. So vigorously my head almost snaps.

“What else do you like, huh?” he rasps, pulling me closer, sliding his warm hands around my waist and then sliding them up my back to unfasten my bra as his mouth brushes across my jaw, teasing my lips. “What else do you like, Lana?”

“I like when you call me Lana.”

“You do, do you?”

“Yes. It makes me feel like a woman, and I like feeling like a woman when I’m with you.”

“What other ways do you like to feel, huh?” he husks as he pulls my top over my head and drinks me in, in my bra and jeans.

“You know what?” His eyes scan me, head to toe, and he slips his hand under my jeans to grab and massage my butt. “I want to lick you up head to toe until I’ve tasted every inch of you, and then I want to do it again.”

He ducks his head, pressing his mouth to my ear, licking my earlobe and then behind my ear. The tickles are everywhere, in my wet spot especially, and the tips of my breasts and my chest.

“Racer …” I slip my arms around him and trail my fingers up the muscles of his back, my body arching against his, moving in this aching, cutting need to get closer to him. To feel his warmth, feel that he wants me.

He presses his hard—bulging—jeans against me and there’s not even a doubt about that. I feel his hardness biting into my abdomen as he grabs me by the underarms and lifts me up to turn me around and sit me on top of the couch rest.

“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.