This one? A slow-motion shot of her stepping out of the car, pulling her helmet off. Her braids flicked over her shoulder. Her mouth parted. Her eyes locked on someone off-camera.
I pretended it was me.
I groaned, the sound ripped from somewhere deep, and stroked faster—rough, punishing, chasing the high Iknewwouldn't be enough. But I couldn't stop. I needed her, and this was the closest I could get.
My name. I wanted her to say my name. I wanted towreckher.
My stomach coiled, fire shooting up my spine. My hand moved faster, my breath loud and filthy in the quiet hotel room.
And then I came. Hard. Violent. Spilling across my hand and stomach with a grunt I couldn't swallow back.
I slumped into the couch, panting. My arm dropped to the side, hand slick and spent. My heart was still hammering. My cock still twitched like it didn't get the memo. I was spent, wrecked—and still fucking unsatisfied. She had no idea what she'd done to me.
She was still in my head. Stilleverywhere.
Tessa Devereaux (PR)
Be at the vintage car display at 2 PM tomorrow. Don’t be late.
The text flashed across the top of my screen, interrupting my post-orgasm spiral of thoughts.
Great. Just what I needed.
Aurélie looked incredible.There was noother way to put it.
HerLuminispolo was tucked intohigh-waistedtrousers, her hair pulled into a sleek ponytail. The smile she gave the fans was genuine, but when she looked at me, it cooled into something more intense.
“Ready to lose again?” she teased after we changed into race suits, standing by our respective cars. If this was a loss, I wanted to lose every time. Especially if she used that mouth for other things.
I smirked, adjusting my helmet as I stared her down, my brain trying to play it cool when really I was short-circuiting, imagining her in that tennis skirt. Lifting up her shirt to reveal her stomach. Her head tipped back in relief, in pleasure. How unsatisfied I'd been after jerking off to those clips.
Her eyes narrowed, catching the delay.
“Not a chance, love,” I said.
It was a mistake. A reflex. An instinct.
We both froze, but she didn't respond as we both climbed into the cars. I groaned internally, feeling like I was fucking losing my mind. And it wasall her fault. I adjusted myself subtly in the cramped cockpit. Still half hard. Still fucking aching. Still hers, even if she didn't know it.
The vintage cars were a nightmare to handle, but Aurélie made it look easy. She was toying with me, throwing bold moves left and right, her helmet barely hiding the thrill that was written all over her face.
She was eating this shit up.
And I was losing grip—on the wheel, on my self-control. I forced my focus back onto the track. But my body had other plans?—
The way she shifted in the car. The way her hands gripped the wheel. The pure, reckless confidence in the way she overtook me, like she already knew she could.
Fuck.
My grip on the wheel was vise-tight. My focus absolutely shattered. She was everywhere—between my legs, in my throat, under my skin. The fantasies were encroaching on my daily life, and it was a dangerous fucking problem.
We were side by side in the final corner, neither of us willing to lift, and for a second—just a split second—she glanced over at me.
Not at my car.
At me.
Something about it sent lightning straight through my bloodstream. Like she felt me unraveling and wanted to see how far I'd fall.
