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I shimmy further down his legs, and Jake’s pleased smile grows. My tongue licks the tip of his shaft, and he sucks in a gulp of air. I lick a second time, letting my tongue explore. Our eyes meet, and I take him in.
He strokes my hair, and I release him with a loud plop. Jake gasps once more, although for a very different reason.
“Hands at your sides,” I order. “No touching, or I stop.”
Jake’s arms lay at his side, with both hands splayed out, as if to show how carefully he follows my instructions. His eyes never leave mine. I take in his shaft a second time, letting my tongue caress and stroke while my mouth and throat swallow him up. Jake’s hips desperately lift to keep pace with my movements.
He grunts and yanks my hair. I release him a second time and wag a finger. “That was against the rules.”
“Fuck the rules. That was on purpose. My turn now.”
He lasted longer than I expected. Jake easily turns over control but always takes it back. Eventually, the race car driver in him returns to put himself back in charge.
I secretly love it.
Jake bucks, flipping us, so I lay under him. “Clock is ticking,” he says and enters me.
I hiss, and my head falls back. “If it’s your turn, then prove it.”
Jake shakes his head, and his hips roll against me. “You like that?” he asks after my whimper. “Brace yourself.”
There’s nothing to latch onto but his shoulders, so I let my fingers dig in. Jake’s hip buck against mine, drawing sounds from me with every movement.
I pull him tighter. Jake’s speed increases so quickly that I can hardly keep up. He’s close, and I’m ready for it.
Sure enough, Jake grunts and lays still. His shallow pants in my ear relax me.
“Food will be here soon,” I say. Hopefully, it’s a little late.
No such luck. As if my words are a horrible magic spell, there’s a knock at the door.
“Stay here. I’ll answer the door.” Jake rises and pulls on a pair of nearby sweats. The hair on his chest is damp, appearing almost black in the room’s yellow light. “Don’t put on any clothes either. I’m not done with you yet.”
∞∞∞
“You’re enjoying this.” Maddie pokes a finger at me with a level of violence that’s rare for her.
“I find street races extra exciting. The final stage is always the best part.”
“Sure, Jake Knowles being in the top five is just a coincidence,” she says.
I eye Maddie. “He’s adequate, at best.” Except for a single pit, he’s been at the top of the pack for the entire race. “You know what he told me yesterday? The secret to COTA is not to do anything wrong.”
“So, do everything right.”
“I had the same impression, but no. He meant don’t do anything wrong. Concentrate on that, and you’ll do fine.” I shrug because it sounds like one of those sayings you find inside a fortune cookie while also being decent life advice. “I guess even stock car racing can give you wisdom.”
We sit for a few minutes, watching the completed lap number tick up. Truthfully, I don’t particularly care who wins as long as specific drivers play nice with each other. It’s the first step in getting them to reconcile.
That needs to happen if we’re to have any future, and I increasingly want us to have a future.
I sit up, surprising Maddie, who looks at me with concern. “Is something wrong?”
I’m helping Jake negotiate a contract and plan his eventual expansion. All he needed to do was ask, and I was in. Plus, I need them to reconcile. There’s also a chance I love him.
Maddie calls my name again, so I force myself not to consider it further. It’s too many thoughts to have during a NASCAR race.
“Nothing is wrong. I was supposed to fill out some forms for that lit class and forgot,” I say because it’s true. After agung-ho start, my interest slowly weaned and is now replaced by something more entertaining. “It’s fine; it can be done later.”
