Racer
Page 20
He holds me by the waist, he unzips my jeans and shoves his hand into my panties, then he plays with my wet flesh and I jerk and thrust my hips out—begging for it, begging for him.
He eases one finger inside me.
He moves it slowly in, and slowly out, repeating the motion, watching as I arch up, fighting not to go off too soon, the pleasure too intense. His eyes are like blue lightning pinning me down, his finger-thrusts filling me so much with desire that I cannot take any second more. I start to convulse.
My nails sink into his scalp, a cry leaves me, and he smothers it with his mouth, pumping his finger deeper and harder to keep me there—at the pinnacle of pleasure. His hand moves faster, harder, my own hips recklessly, haphazardly trying to meet his hand-thrusts and keep him touching me forever. Every atom and cell in my body shivering for him, craving him, wanting him, needing him.
My breath sounds raspy when I ask him, “Do you sleep with women after you and she, well after—”
“No. Usually I call them an Uber and send them home.”
“I don’t need an Uber so I’ll head to my room …”
He snatches my wrist. “Stay,” he rasps, his gaze hungry and possessive.
I exhale and ease back to his side. “If I stay I may lose control again.”
“Why is that wrong?”
“Because …” I flush. My eyes run over him and I can barely keep my hands at my sides. Because I really want to touch him, taste him. I want to run my fingers over that gorgeous chest, look at him without a stitch of clothing on in ways that I didn’t dare look at him when he stripped at the pool.
“I’m about hanging on by a thread myself,” he husks, gaze heavy-lidded as he keeps staring down at me.
“Really?” I breathe. Surprised that he seemed to read my mind.
He nods somberly, his eyes twinkling before they become engulfed in some dark lustfulness.
“Do you want to touch me. Huh,” he prods, reaching out to tug me closer.
My heart turns over in my chest while the rest of my body clutches wantonly as he guides me to the bed. “I … yes.”
At the edge of the bed, I see him tug his shirt over his head in one easy jerk of his hand, then he unzips and strips his jeans.
I’m staring—wide-eyed—and salivating as he pulls the sheets off the bed, then pulls me down on the bed with him, and something is growing and growing under the sheets, and before I know it the whole damn bed sheet is tented.
Racer grins, his eyes predatory as he wraps one arm around me, locking my chest to his chest.
He sets his forehead on mine and guides my hand to his cock. “Here.” He groans as he drags the tip of his nose along my temple with a rumbling sound as he guides my hand under the sheets, to the very warmest hardest part of his being. “It wants your touch.”
Oh god. He’s so big.
So smooth.
So HARD.
My hand runs over him tremulously, and he exhales roughly through his nostrils as he watches my expression of awe. “God, baby, those little fingers feel good on me.”
He smiles down at me, and my throat is tight with desire as I bite down on my lips and I start to flutter my fingers more greedily over his thick length.
He’s huge, so thick he pulsates under my touch. I can feel the thick veins on his cock and the way the crown is fully stretched and swollen. I couldn’t wrap my fist around him if I tried, he’s too thick, so I just envelop what I can and skim my hand up his hard length, up and down, up and down, my body tightening with wanting when little drops of arousal start to seep out of the tip of his cock.
His face is raw with need, his forehead still on mine as he scans my face and brushes my hair back. “You’re driving me crazy,” he rasps, rocking his hips up to my hand, the pre-cum wetting my fingertips as I brush them over the top of his cock.
I’m breathing hard, and he’s breathing harder, grabbing my face to hold me still as he begins to kiss me like crazy, tongue thrusting into my mouth, swerving side to side to taste every nook and cranny, rubbing to arouse my own to fierce and thirsty action.
I move my fingers faster, addicted to the way he’s kissing me—the hunger there, the way his hips roll up commandingly to my hand, the way his tongue mates with mine, and the way his cock keeps pulsing in my hand and obviously wanting more of my touch.
He reaches down to grab my hand, squeezing it around his cock, and murmurs, “Do you want to taste me too, huh. You want to taste me?”
As I start to breathe out yes he picks up a drop of cum from the tip of his cock and slides his thumb into my mouth, where I taste him.
I’ve never tasted a guy, and there is something about his taste that makes my pussy water.
“You like that,” he rasps, slipping his hands back into my hair to kiss me deep, with his taste in my mouth, as I keep moving my fingers over his cock.
“I want to feel you when you come,” I admit, breathless as I keep moving my hand, craving to see him—see that he has a reaction to me, that he loves me touching him the way I go crazy when he touches me.
He goes off almost instantly, shooting off so hard I feel a splat of cum fall on my chin and jaw, more coming out as I keep trying to squeeze and work my fingers, his cock jerking powerfully as he shoots off another eight times.
I gasp, and he groans and licks my mouth, cleaning my jaw of his cum with his thumb and then pressing it on my mouth. I groan, starting to move my hips, needing to come again too.
And that’s when I feel him reach out to my partly open jeans and shove his hand gently into my underwear and rub his fingertips, still with some cum on them, along my opening and my pussy folds. Surprised by my lightning-fast reaction, I cry out as a thousand and one shudders wrack me, making me cry out.
I lie in a daze as Racer goes clean up—dazed at the sight of that RT tattoo on his firm buttocks. When he returns and slips his strong arms around me, I slip my arms around him too.
My eyes drift shut, and I feel him look at me.
He’s completely naked in bed.
And I’m completely hormone-filled.
And my ovaries hurt looking at how gorgeous and masculine he is.
Boyish and yet at the same time, so male.
He presses his thumb into my palm, smiling. My heart speeds up with a mix of longing and dread to what I feel. I am falling. It feels as if my ribs have just collapsed in my chest, crushing my lungs. “You okay?”
“Can’t sleep.” He stares at me.
“Racer … I’m not ready for anything.”
He smiles, stroking his hand down my cheek. “I know. I was there where you are.”
“What happened?”
“You crashed my car.” He grins. I feel my stomach tingle from the inside out, and I open my lips and raise my head to kiss him, and he doesn’t need to be asked twice, he crushes my head back down as he starts to kiss me in ways I never knew a human being on this earth could be kissed, a kiss that touches every part of me, my lips and body, my mind, my heart, my very soul.
“I’ll take it easy with you.”
“Please,” I say, and he shifts to lie down beside me, the most hot, handsome man I could have ever imagined in bed; kissing me like I’m the only girl he’s ever wanted in his.
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.
He eases one finger inside me.
He moves it slowly in, and slowly out, repeating the motion, watching as I arch up, fighting not to go off too soon, the pleasure too intense. His eyes are like blue lightning pinning me down, his finger-thrusts filling me so much with desire that I cannot take any second more. I start to convulse.
My nails sink into his scalp, a cry leaves me, and he smothers it with his mouth, pumping his finger deeper and harder to keep me there—at the pinnacle of pleasure. His hand moves faster, harder, my own hips recklessly, haphazardly trying to meet his hand-thrusts and keep him touching me forever. Every atom and cell in my body shivering for him, craving him, wanting him, needing him.
My breath sounds raspy when I ask him, “Do you sleep with women after you and she, well after—”
“No. Usually I call them an Uber and send them home.”
“I don’t need an Uber so I’ll head to my room …”
He snatches my wrist. “Stay,” he rasps, his gaze hungry and possessive.
I exhale and ease back to his side. “If I stay I may lose control again.”
“Why is that wrong?”
“Because …” I flush. My eyes run over him and I can barely keep my hands at my sides. Because I really want to touch him, taste him. I want to run my fingers over that gorgeous chest, look at him without a stitch of clothing on in ways that I didn’t dare look at him when he stripped at the pool.
“I’m about hanging on by a thread myself,” he husks, gaze heavy-lidded as he keeps staring down at me.
“Really?” I breathe. Surprised that he seemed to read my mind.
He nods somberly, his eyes twinkling before they become engulfed in some dark lustfulness.
“Do you want to touch me. Huh,” he prods, reaching out to tug me closer.
My heart turns over in my chest while the rest of my body clutches wantonly as he guides me to the bed. “I … yes.”
At the edge of the bed, I see him tug his shirt over his head in one easy jerk of his hand, then he unzips and strips his jeans.
I’m staring—wide-eyed—and salivating as he pulls the sheets off the bed, then pulls me down on the bed with him, and something is growing and growing under the sheets, and before I know it the whole damn bed sheet is tented.
Racer grins, his eyes predatory as he wraps one arm around me, locking my chest to his chest.
He sets his forehead on mine and guides my hand to his cock. “Here.” He groans as he drags the tip of his nose along my temple with a rumbling sound as he guides my hand under the sheets, to the very warmest hardest part of his being. “It wants your touch.”
Oh god. He’s so big.
So smooth.
So HARD.
My hand runs over him tremulously, and he exhales roughly through his nostrils as he watches my expression of awe. “God, baby, those little fingers feel good on me.”
He smiles down at me, and my throat is tight with desire as I bite down on my lips and I start to flutter my fingers more greedily over his thick length.
He’s huge, so thick he pulsates under my touch. I can feel the thick veins on his cock and the way the crown is fully stretched and swollen. I couldn’t wrap my fist around him if I tried, he’s too thick, so I just envelop what I can and skim my hand up his hard length, up and down, up and down, my body tightening with wanting when little drops of arousal start to seep out of the tip of his cock.
His face is raw with need, his forehead still on mine as he scans my face and brushes my hair back. “You’re driving me crazy,” he rasps, rocking his hips up to my hand, the pre-cum wetting my fingertips as I brush them over the top of his cock.
I’m breathing hard, and he’s breathing harder, grabbing my face to hold me still as he begins to kiss me like crazy, tongue thrusting into my mouth, swerving side to side to taste every nook and cranny, rubbing to arouse my own to fierce and thirsty action.
I move my fingers faster, addicted to the way he’s kissing me—the hunger there, the way his hips roll up commandingly to my hand, the way his tongue mates with mine, and the way his cock keeps pulsing in my hand and obviously wanting more of my touch.
He reaches down to grab my hand, squeezing it around his cock, and murmurs, “Do you want to taste me too, huh. You want to taste me?”
As I start to breathe out yes he picks up a drop of cum from the tip of his cock and slides his thumb into my mouth, where I taste him.
I’ve never tasted a guy, and there is something about his taste that makes my pussy water.
“You like that,” he rasps, slipping his hands back into my hair to kiss me deep, with his taste in my mouth, as I keep moving my fingers over his cock.
“I want to feel you when you come,” I admit, breathless as I keep moving my hand, craving to see him—see that he has a reaction to me, that he loves me touching him the way I go crazy when he touches me.
He goes off almost instantly, shooting off so hard I feel a splat of cum fall on my chin and jaw, more coming out as I keep trying to squeeze and work my fingers, his cock jerking powerfully as he shoots off another eight times.
I gasp, and he groans and licks my mouth, cleaning my jaw of his cum with his thumb and then pressing it on my mouth. I groan, starting to move my hips, needing to come again too.
And that’s when I feel him reach out to my partly open jeans and shove his hand gently into my underwear and rub his fingertips, still with some cum on them, along my opening and my pussy folds. Surprised by my lightning-fast reaction, I cry out as a thousand and one shudders wrack me, making me cry out.
I lie in a daze as Racer goes clean up—dazed at the sight of that RT tattoo on his firm buttocks. When he returns and slips his strong arms around me, I slip my arms around him too.
My eyes drift shut, and I feel him look at me.
He’s completely naked in bed.
And I’m completely hormone-filled.
And my ovaries hurt looking at how gorgeous and masculine he is.
Boyish and yet at the same time, so male.
He presses his thumb into my palm, smiling. My heart speeds up with a mix of longing and dread to what I feel. I am falling. It feels as if my ribs have just collapsed in my chest, crushing my lungs. “You okay?”
“Can’t sleep.” He stares at me.
“Racer … I’m not ready for anything.”
He smiles, stroking his hand down my cheek. “I know. I was there where you are.”
“What happened?”
“You crashed my car.” He grins. I feel my stomach tingle from the inside out, and I open my lips and raise my head to kiss him, and he doesn’t need to be asked twice, he crushes my head back down as he starts to kiss me in ways I never knew a human being on this earth could be kissed, a kiss that touches every part of me, my lips and body, my mind, my heart, my very soul.
“I’ll take it easy with you.”
“Please,” I say, and he shifts to lie down beside me, the most hot, handsome man I could have ever imagined in bed; kissing me like I’m the only girl he’s ever wanted in his.
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.
