by Ella Jade
“Be still,” he growled, playfully swatting her backside.
Cat’s lips twitched. “Sorry, but I’ve never been a passive lover.”
To prove her point, she reached for his belt, whisked the strip of leather free from the loops, and added it to the pile on the floor. Her fingertips brushed the head of his erection as she unsnapped his grease-stained work pants. He jerked, but didn’t stop her.
In one smooth motion she had his pants down to his knees and her fingers enclosed around his length. Her fingers just met around the girth at the widest point. She moaned, imagining him buried deep inside her, bringing them both to rapture.
“Cat, stop.” He removed her hands and stripped off her yoga leggings.
She put her hands on his shoulders as he removed her remaining clothes. Moments later they were both naked, and he grabbed a foil packet from his pants pocket. She trailed her fingers over the ridges of his chest and abs on her way to his erection.
He pushed her onto the sofa, kneeling between her spread legs.
“My turn.” His mouth latched onto her nub, sucking and nibbling as he ran the flat of his tongue up her drenched slit. “You taste so good,” he said against her flesh, his fingers plucking her nipples.
She’d always been self-conscious about her almost non-existent breasts, but Chad made her feel beautiful. She leaned her head back against the cushions and closed her eyes, moaning in pleasure as he continued tasting her. She buried her fingers into his hair, the silky strands sliding against her palms. He wrapped his hands around her wrists and dragged her fingers from his hair, flattening her palms on the cushions beside her as his mouth left her core.
“Lift your leg for me,” he said. “Put it on the sofa.”
She planted her foot to the side, opening herself wider to his ministrations though nearly slipping as he ran his mouth along the tender flesh of her inner thigh all the way to her knee. He tasted his way back to her apex, murmuring words of appreciation. His mouth latched onto her flesh again and he sucked hard. Cat nearly bucked off the sofa, but he held her in place.
“Chad,” she moaned. “You’re driving me crazy!”
He chuckled, his lips still around her nub. The vibrations ratcheted up her desire. He released her wrists and held her open to the onslaught of his mouth. She was ready to explode. He slipped a finger into her damp heat, adding to the flickering of his tongue. Inserting a second, he stroked her inner muscles, concentrating on that one spot inside her.
“Oh!” she cried out as an orgasm ripped through her without warning. Her hands wound into his hair again, finding anchor in the tempest.
He continued stroking, drawing out her release as long as he could. When she quieted a few minutes later, he ripped the packet open with his teeth and removed the latex from its foil. She took the condom and rolled it down the length of his shaft.
Standing, she told him to sit on the sofa. He leaned back against the cushions and she straddled his thighs, guiding the head of his cock to her slick heat. She lowered herself onto him, bracing her hands against the back of the couch.
He gripped her hips and thrust up with her downward stroke, setting a rhythm that brought her back to the brink with dizzying speed. Starbursts glittered behind her closed eyelids as she gloried in the strength of his desire. It should have been enough, but somehow…it wasn’t.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I can’t take it slow for you.”
Feral heat raged through her blood. “I don’t want slow.”
“But—”
Cat rode him once, as hard as she could.
“I promise I won’t break.” She kissed him, their tongues mimicking their bodies.
Chad groaned in his throat, breaking the contact. “Let me up.”
She stood. He followed and motioned for her to kneel on the sofa, facing away from him. She positioned herself accordingly, already anticipating his next command. He didn’t make her wait long.
His hands grasped her hips, the tip of his erection teasing her slit. “Hang on, baby. This won’t be gentle.”
She braced herself against the cushions as he buried himself to the hilt in one smooth, hard thrust. She gasped, but didn’t move as he set a wild, pagan rhythm.
“Feels…so…good,” he grunted in time with his strokes. His hands moved from her hips to her breasts, and he pinched her nipples between his rough, calloused fingers.
“I’m close,” he said, plunging into her damp core. “Play with yourself. Come for me.”
She did what he asked as he thrust into her body. His balls slapped her fingers harder against her flesh, bringing her closer to orgasm. She reached lower and stroked his cock, coating her fingers with her juices before moving them back to her pearl.
“Don’t do that again,” he rasped. “Please.”
She sent a saucy wink over her shoulder. “What’s the matter? Can’t handle the pressure?”
He spanked her ass. The sound resonated like a gunshot. She gasped, the heat from the stinging swat turning her on even more.
“Oh!” she cried out as he hit a sensitive spot inside her. “Right there.”
“Here?” he asked, shifting the angle of his thrust.
“Yes!” she hissed through clenched teeth, drawing out the ‘s’ as pleasure zinged across every nerve ending, making her burn incandescent.
Chad pushed her over with one more plunge.
“Oh, wow!” she cried out, the impact rocking her at her core. Her muscles spasmed around his still-pounding cock. He buried himself inside her, his balls slapping against her core, sending her into another orgasm that was stronger than the last.
He grunted as he too reached his release and filled the condom inside her. He held her, her back pressed against his chest, their bodies still joined as they came down from their high. Their harsh breaths were the only sound breaking the silence.
“I suppose we should get back,” she said at last, wishing they had time for a shower. Aside from the fact that hers was only a single stall, the scent of their lovemaking would soon be masked by the smells of grease, burning rubber, and exhaust fumes.
She strode naked to the bedroom as he disposed of the condom. She rifled through the items in her miniscule closet and chose a dark purple polo and black slacks. Dressing quickly, she returned to the sitting area, pulling her hair up into a ponytail and fastening it with an elastic band.
Chad was still half-naked, and the expanse of his broad back made her mouth go dry. Stunned, she watched the play of muscles as he shrugged into his shirt. He still hadn’t turned around. Cat couldn’t resist. She spread her hands over his body. He might be a desk jockey back at the shop, but he was no softie. He kept his body in top shape, unlike some of the other crew chiefs along pit road. He tensed beneath her touch, but relaxed when she ran the pads of her thumbs along the column of his neck.
“Mmm, that feels good” He leaned into her touch.
Cat smirked. “What kind of driver would I be if I didn’t take care of my crew chief?” Her fingertips vibrated from his sexy chuckle as he turned around.
“Somehow I don’t see the other drivers having sex with their crew chief,” he drawled.
She laughed. “That would be interesting, considering all but three other drivers are male.”
He captured her lips in a kiss that made her blood fizzle. “It’d take NASCAR by surprise.”
She giggled, glancing at the clock behind the front seat of the RV. “We better get out there before Deanna sends a search party.” She reached for his shirt. “You’re crooked.”
“I thought I was twisted.”
“That too.” Sliding the soft fabric between her fingers, Cat straightened his collar. The garment was a little wrinkled from lying on the floor. “If I had time I’d press this for you.” She smoothed her hands against the creases over his chest.
He grabbed her hands on a growl. “Spend the night with me.”
Cat held his gaze, her mind whirling at the possibilities. “Ask me
again after the race.”
Chapter 4
“She’s too tight in the turns,” Cat said close to the halfway point of the Great American Race.
She’d had a few close calls, but none of the accidents so far had involved more than two cars. The seasoned veterans were up front, with the more inexperienced drivers mired toward the back where they could better gain practice with the draft. At lap eighty of two hundred, Cat was still in the top twenty.
“Pit in about eight laps,” Chad said. “We’re not getting as good of mileage as those around us.”
“Ten-four.” Cat held her line going into turn three, drafting in the outside lane behind Jacob Stettler. “Come on, Jacob. Work with me.”
“The one-forty-two has to pit in six laps,” Zane said through the two-way radio. “You’ll be his drafting partner. Stay on his bumper.”
Cat kept off the wall for the six laps, despite fighting the handling. In anticipation of their stops, she and Jacob moved into the low groove. Heading into turn four she waved her hand out the window, a signal to the guys behind her that she’d be pitting, and moved to the access road along the apron behind Jacob. He made the hard left turn and braked to a stop in his stall.
“Ten spots, Cat,” Zane said. “Three…two…pull in.”
Cat braked to a stop and her crew went to work. The right side lifted and dropped, then the left. Jacob passed her just as the jack dropped on her left side. She smoked the tires on exit, but maintained the speed limit down pit road. She tucked in behind Jacob as they accelerated down the merging lane heading into turns one and two and down the backstretch. She shifted flawlessly through the gears on her way up to one hundred and ninety miles per hour. Because it took the cars a full lap to get up to full speed, Cat and Jacob stayed low on the track.
“How’s she now?” Chad asked as she passed the 122 car on the high side.
“Better,” she replied. The car responded to her command, and she stayed behind the 142.
“Leaders are starting to pit this time by,” Zane said.
“Copy that.” Cat was in a single-file freight train and when the first car hit the apron she moved up a lane to avoid chance of collision. Seven cars ducked off the racing surface as she roared by at almost two hundred miles per hour.
“Crash in turn one,” Zane said a second later. “Six—no, ten cars involved so far.”
Cat saw the smoke as she made the tri-oval. “High or low?”
“High,” was the immediate response.
Cat drove up the banking coming off the front stretch and aimed for the top of the wall heading into turn one. She slammed blindly into the plume, her only hope making it through in one piece. Car parts scattered across the hot asphalt as she held her line, emerging unscathed on the other side of the smoke.
“Whoo!” she keyed the mic. “Not sure I want to do that again anytime soon.”
“Copy that.” Chad laughed. “Great driving, rookie.”
Cat gave him a raspberry inside her protective mask as she slowed for the caution on the backstretch, the field frozen in position.
“Awesome job, Cat,” Zane said. “That’s gonna make the highlight reels.”
“If you say so,” she responded, weaving her car back and forth to clean her tires. Secretly, she’d be pleased if it did, because it would mean more exposure for her and her sponsors.
The drivers that hadn’t stopped yet did so this time by. Cat held her line on the high side, still tucked behind the 142.
“It’ll take a while to clean up the mess,” Zane said. “Sit tight ’til we get the signal from the tower.”
“What do you need for the next stop?” Chad asked.
“Are we better on stickers or scuffs?” she asked, referring to brand-new tires or gently used ones.
“Stickers on short, scuffs on long runs,” was her crew chief’s reply.
“Give me scuffs and loosen me up a tad. I have a feeling everyone will probably calm down now that the big one’s out of the way.” She thought of the cars damaged and smoldering along the apron. “Was anyone hurt?”
“Negative,” Zane said. “Everyone walked to the ambulances under their own power.”
Cat sighed with relief.
“The good news,” Chad interjected, “is that the wreck took out seven top contenders, so you have a good shot at a top-fifteen finish.”
Cat recognized the dig for what it was, and she grinned. He’s so sleeping alone tonight.
“Two to green,” Zane said in her ear.
“Ten-four.” Cat turned her attention back to her racecar.
* * * *
Cat took a long swig of the soft drink, making sure the product label faced the camera.
“Catalina, how does it feel to be the highest-ever finishing rookie in the Daytona 500?” the reporter asked.
Her fifth-place finish was unprecedented. “Amazing!” She was still flying high, and not just from the race. Sex with Chad had been off the charts! Not that she’d admit that to a reporter. “Chad gave me an awesome car, and we stayed on top of the adjustments. The other drivers were fantastic, trusting a rookie to draft with them. I gained tons of experience, and I’m grateful for the assistance.”
“What was going on between you and Jacob Stettler?” he asked.
“Jacob and I had done some drafting practice during last month’s test, so I was confident he’d work with me today. It was pure coincidence that I was able to pass him going into turn one with three laps to go.”
“And you had a line of cars go with you.”
“I’m glad they didn’t hang me out to dry.” She laughed with the reporter. “We’ll carry the momentum into next week in Atlanta.”
Her interviews wrapped up shortly thereafter, and Cat made her way back to her hauler to change out of her fire suit.
“They’re sending us through tech,” Gabe said when she slid open the mirrored doors.
The officials selected random cars for a thorough post-race inspection. Chad was probably with the car. Grabbing her phone from her locker, she sent him a quick text, then changed out of her sweat-stained fire suit and returned to her motor coach.
Per Cat’s request, Deanna had her scheduled for an 8 PM commercial flight back to Charlotte, and she had an hour to get to the airport. Chad’s name flashed across the screen of her phone as she packed her suitcase. Letting it go to voice mail, she finished preparing for her flight. A call to Deanna let her PR director know she was ready to go. Her driver, Edward, would take care of the RV and get it to the next race.
Someone knocked on her door, and Cat grabbed her luggage. The driver helped her get situated in the golf cart and whisked her through the still-bustling infield toward the tunnel. Her phone vibrated in her pocket.
“Why did you say no to spending the night?” Chad asked, pre-empting her greeting.
“It’s my choice,” she said evenly. “I need to get stuff done around my apartment.”
“Can’t it wait?” he asked. “I want to see you again.”
It could, but she wasn’t going to. “I have to go. They’re calling my flight.”
“Wait! You’re at the airport?”
He sounded panicked. Cat giggled. “I’ll see you Tuesday at the shop.”
She disconnected the call as the driver stopped at the rental. He loaded her bags and handed over the keys to a nondescript sedan. She nodded her thanks, and then drove to the airport. An hour later she was in the air, light jazz pouring from her iPod.
* * * *
After retrieving her suitcase from the luggage carousel, Cat picked up her truck from the long-term parking area near the airport and drove east along Interstate 85 through Charlotte on her way to Kannapolis.
She ran today’s race through her mind, replaying every pit stop and lap on her way to finishing fifth. Not only had she been the highest-ever finishing female, but she’d been the first rookie in history to crack the top five. Not too bad for a driver having had to race her way into the main event. Dre
w had been happy, and so had Frank Handy.
Cat couldn’t put her finger on it, but something about her sponsor gave her the heebie-jeebies. He’d hovered over her after the race, touching and hugging her like she’d won instead of finishing in the top five. Well, he definitely likes living up to his name. The catty comment jolted through her thoughts. She grimaced, wishing she could say something to Drew but knowing if she did she’d lose her funding for the year. Dead in the water stays dead. She’d never recover. But someone should know what’s going on.
Cat took the Kannapolis exit onto Dale Earnhardt Boulevard and drove toward her apartment building downtown. A few minutes later she passed through the gates of her underground parking garage. After a quick elevator ride she crossed the foyer of her penthouse.
Cat threw her suitcase on the floor in her bedroom and entered the master bathroom, turning on the taps of the old-fashioned claw-foot tub. She threw in a handful of bath salts and stripped out of her travel-worn clothes, then gently eased her aching body into the steamy water. She hadn’t realized how grueling a five-hundred mile race was.
She closed her eyes and rested her head against the back of the tub, sighing in relief. She officially had her first Cup race in the books, and she hadn’t crashed like many had predicted she would. And to think I get to do it again every weekend for the next nine months. She smiled.
Reaching the Sprint Cup level had been her dream since she’d held her first steering wheel at age ten. She’d finally achieved her goal fifteen years later.
Climbing from the tepid water, she rubbed a fluffy towel over her body, grateful she’d waived off spending the night with Chad. Her poor body was battered and bruised enough as it was.
Heat that had nothing to do with her bath seared her as Chad’s image flashed through her thoughts. She’d never had a lover with an appetite that was as voracious as her own. Drew won’t be happy about Chad and me. On the heels of that thought came another, more sobering. I hope our relationship doesn’t jeopardize my sponsorship. If the way Frank kept hitting on her was any indication, he might be petty enough to do just that.
