Drift Heat

by Adrian R. Hale

  His hands find my skin, his fingers the matches that ignite the fuse of my desire that has been soaked in gasoline. Fourteen days is nothing in the grand scheme of time, and yet it feels like an eternity since he has touched me like this. I writhe under his attention, from the simple grazing of my collarbone to the way his fingernails gently scrape over my nipples in his quest to map my body by feel. Maybe he’s missed this, too. His lips find my shoulder, sending chill bumps down my arm as his tongue darts out to taste me before he once again moves across my body looking for his next stop. He hasn’t even touched me intimately and here I am engulfed in flames and ready to smolder to a pile of ashes.

  Oh, but when he does reach my pussy, his hand gliding through my folds, my hips buck and I moan. I fist the sheets as he places his hand flat against my stomach and pushes me back down with a rough chuckle.

  “That’s my girl, so responsive. Always.” He holds me steady as his mouth follows the maddeningly slow trail his hands took until he places a soft kiss on my piercing that leaves me shaking.

  Oh, sweet baby Jesus, I’m going to explode when he finally—the thought is wrenched from my mind as he sucks on my piercing and drives a finger inside of me. Goodbye slow, hello a frenzy of desire as he laps at me. My thighs squeeze his head, keeping him close as the rest of me reaches out from the intense burst of pleasure he’s evoked. I’m pulling a pillow over my face when he stops suddenly.

  “Don’t cover your face. I want to watch you.”

  Brushing hair out of my face, I place the pillow behind my head, propping myself up so he has a better view. I relax back and breathe in the quick interlude before he is once again licking and stroking me. He has me right back on the brink within a minute. My hands release the sheets, finding my nipples that need to be pinched. I feel Griffin groan against me as I twist and he strokes my spot just right. My hips fight his hand to jack off the bed as I find my release, moaning his name into the dark room.

  I collapse back onto the bed, my limbs feeling heavy as my sated body floats back down to reality. The mattress shifts as he hunts for his pants on the floor and returns to the bed. The rip of foil is a quiet melody to my heavy breathing. I open my knees so he can move between my legs, his heavy erection hitting my thigh before he directs himself to my core. We come together slowly, my tightness easing open for him as our hips rock together.

  I look up into his face, meeting his eyes as he catches his bottom lip between his teeth. I use my thumb to pull it out and bring his mouth to mine. Our tongues meet, a tentative dance that matches his slow rhythm as his hips drive into me, and then more forcefully as I bite that same lip he just had. I moan and push his shoulder, rolling over on top of him. He grips my hips and lets me rock on him. I tip my head back as his hand glides up and spans the space below my collarbones, his pinky and thumb reaching my shoulders and flexing into my skin as if to keep me from floating away.

  He raises his torso up and shifts back so I am now straddling his lap and he can hold me against his chest as my soft moans grow more urgent. I hook my arms under his and hold onto his shoulders, my head dipping into his neck as he clutches my hips and moves me over him. My unintelligible words mix with his name and oh yeahs and Jesus’ as that delightful pressure builds and expands until I can no longer contain it. I bite into his shoulder as I come apart and feel him buck his hips into me and then stiffen, his cock pulsing as my body grips him tightly over and over.

  “Oh, God. I love you, baby,” he groans into my hair.

  I have no control over my voice to reply. My breathing sounds loud against his neck and shoulder as my awareness returns to the present. I pull my face back and place my cheek against his, the scratchy day old stubble sliding across my skin as he turns his face to catch my mouth. He kisses me deeply, then places several soft kisses against my mouth as he falls backward, pulling me down with him. I snuggle against his chest but know he will get up in a minute to clean up. I don’t want to let him go right now. I never want to let him go.

  “I love you, Griffin,” I finally manage softly.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Three years later

  Red. Yellow. Green. GO. The braaahp-braap of revved engines and the scent of race fuel and burnt rubber surround me. Heart pounding and vision tunneled by my racing helmet, I slip the clutch and heel-toe the brake and gas until the gear catches, racing away from the starting line after the lead car. His tires smoke as he hits the first set of turns and I initiate drift right behind him. From muscle memory alone I know the transition is coming despite not being able to see it clearly through the haze that comes from being right on his ass and in his smoke screen. Red brake lights ahead, feather the brakes in the Black Sheep and let the wheel spin through my hand to match his entry line and angle for the back side of the S-turn. Count to two and it’s over. Gas. Gas. GAS, fucker!

  Can’t see, don’t care. How far ahead is he? No braking, because he sure as hell won’t be. The smoke clears as we hit a straightaway and fuck me if he’s not two whole car lengths out in front. I downshift and kick my gas pedal back toward the floor, the whine of the turbos spooling and the roar of the LS motor loud in my ears as I close the gap. My hands flow between the shifter and the wheel as my feet work the pedals.

  One, two, three, new set of turns. My mental image of the track is spot-on from so many previous runs; my body knows exactly where to apply pressure and where to back off for each section. Damn, he’s messing with me now. He starts drift early, so I follow as close as I can, keeping to his line even though he keeps it tight to the inner wall rather than use the entire section of the turn. I anticipate his transition, already rolling the wheel and managing to get it exactly when he does. You can’t shake me, asshole, this is my track. Laguna Seca is where I cut my teeth drifting. I know every turn from every direction and I am not letting him out drift me.

  He’s going to go wide on this section, ease into it slower for a better swing. Yup. Predictable motherfucker. I got your number. Final stretch, no brakes, all gas, carry through the drift, oversteer until you’re clear and let it slide. Finish line in sight and his car only inches in front of me. Pass through and holy hell there’s a whole world outside of this track that I was completely unaware of for the last two minutes.

  My breathing settles back into a normal pattern as my heart rate slows while we await the radioed instructions for one more round or to head to the stands. I replay the heat in my head, thinking of each section and how I did. I stuck to him like glue but still had to make up a gap on the straightaway. I kept his line in sight and hit the same angles he did. I chased him like a fucking bat out of hell and I am proud of my performance.

  The Black Sheep has been perfect for this competition, behaving as expected and putting out the power when I needed it. I pat my dash and rev my engine playfully as we wait. It must have been a close round; they’re taking their time with their decisions. His car shakes as he revs back, sending exhaust fumes into my open window. Jerk. I hold my gloved hand out the window and flip him off, receiving a jacking off and coming hand motion back that has me laughing. I love drift racing. But most of all, I love that man.

  Griffin and I are no strangers to racing each other. In fact, I think racing him over the past three years has made me a better drifter, but I’ll never admit that to him. His ego would get too big and he’s cocky enough as it is. This season I finally made it to the pro circuit, and have been racing for the podium right along with him. Being a rookie means I have had to learn a lot about the other drivers and how they react differently than those in the Pro-Am would. I have been qualifying for the sweet sixteen spots and even made it to the great eight in San Jose last week, but was knocked out for one reason or another. This competition has been different, though. I made it higher up the ranks and actually got into the fight for the final four spots. I am on fire tonight as if all of the stars aligned just right to get me here. Beating out Charlie Sweeten and heading into the top two to race against Griffin had my eyes
bugging out of my head, but there was so little time to let it sink in or throw me off my game.

  I led the first round aggressively, keeping my car on the course and pulling away when I could without compromising the actual drifting. This last heat following Griffin, everything just fell into place and felt right. The track employee in an ADL shirt holding us on the track waves us through, sending us to the bleachers. Thank fuck. I didn’t want to have to repeat that performance against Griffin a second time, but I would have in a heartbeat just to prove I could.

  I follow Griffin toward the stands, ready to hear how we did. First and second place. That freaking rocks my socks. I’m not going to lie to myself and say I wouldn’t be the tiniest bit disappointed to lose to him, but I would still be stoked for him if he beat me. He has done well this season, coming in top four at every event as usual. It’s amazing to be racing for the same team after putting myself through the Pro-Am for two years.

  Paul offered early on to let me race for Smoke and Mirrors so he could help pay for a lot of the race entries and necessary repairs. He called it giving back for all of the sponsors I had brought to the team. I told him that if I could qualify for my pro license on my own, I would absolutely love to race for S&M. He was happy enough to keep me on the team in my many roles, which expanded from promo model and social media director to include customer service manager for the shop in the off season. I still passed out swag and held umbrellas at the pro competitions while competing in the off season in the Pro-Am with the cobbled together sponsors I managed to attract with my driving abilities. They happened to be sponsors who already knew and worked with me through Smoke and Mirrors, but they came to me on their own and offered support. That was a huge help and probably the only reason I was able to spend just two years in the Pro-Am circuit gaining experience and working toward my pro license. Having Griffin and the guys at the track as my support crew and pit team didn’t hurt. They have loved watching me climb the ranks and get to where I am now, a third driver for the Smoke and Mirrors team.

  It’s funny how hindsight shows you clearly how wrong you could be about the future. I didn’t think the team could ever support a third driver and I would have to make a choice to leave this family. Instead, they supported me in every endeavor and made sure I made it where I wanted to go, never hesitating with their support.

  I shut off the Black Sheep and pull off my helmet as I step out of the car. The lights lining the track are bright and illuminate the stands full of thousands of fans all applauding and screaming for us. I have not made it to this point in a pro competition and it’s a little humbling to stand here now. I’m in awe.

  I’ve built my own fan base over the years and some of them are here tonight, wearing Black Sheep Love T-shirts I sell at our booth and holding signs with my name on them. These crazy motherfuckers are the ones who have followed my career through the years and been the most supportive community I could have asked for and never expected. My dad and Henry are in the front row, screaming the loudest of them all, except for maybe Marny, who is beside herself with happiness, it appears.

  I wave at the crowd as I make my way around the cars to stand by Griffin. I’m smiling like a fool when I am swept off my feet onto Griffin’s shoulder and spun around to the delight of the fans. My hair tumbles into my face as I hold on for dear life until he sets me back on my feet on the asphalt next to him. I playfully punch his arm, maintaining that I hate when he spins me like that, even if I actually love it. He needs to be given a hard time so he doesn’t get comfortable and stop trying. His words, not mine, but I’ll happily enforce them.

  “You were fucking amazing, baby,” he says before he grabs my face and plants a big kiss on my lips.

  “You are pretty great too, my love, but I think I just kicked your ass.” I smile wide as his eyes narrow and a smile draws the corner of his mouth up.

  “We’ll have to see how the judges scored it. I wouldn’t be preparing to hit the top of the podium, if I were you. You let me stay too close in the first heat and then get away from you in the second.”

  And this is why I love him. He keeps giving me shit even if he loves me to pieces. It’s a good dynamic we have not lost even as we have grown closer and developed our relationship over the years. I would kick his ass if he changed that.

  “Scores are in and it was a close one,” the announcer says over the din of the bellowing crowd. “With ninety-four points, just two points in the lead, Shelby Jensen is our winner!”

  “Holy shit,” I breathe, bending over to place my hands on my knees, shell-shocked to hear my name called. As much as I have wanted to win a race like this, it’s unreal to experience it for the first time. I fight the urge to sit right down and cry happy tears.

  “You did it, baby!” Griffin says, hauling me up and capturing me in a bear hug. He squeezes out what little air I have left in my lungs and forces me to inhale deeply and brush off my dream-like state.

  I shake my head in disbelief and then let out a war cry of happiness and raise my arms in the air as it settles in. I won. I beat Griffin. I took my first American Drift League Pro race title. Holy shit. I can’t stop smiling. This night couldn’t get any better.

  An ADL employee runs out to the track and hands Griffin a wireless microphone and then runs back to the barriers. I stop jumping up and down and look at him in confusion. This isn’t what normally happens. What the hell?

  “I’ve got a little surprise for you, baby,” Griffin says to me while speaking into the mic so the crowd can hear him. The cheering from the crowd gets louder until Griffin motions for them to calm down, which they do, marginally. “Calm the fuck down, I have something to say,” he says to the crowd, who laugh and settle down a bit until Griffin is happy.

  “What are you doing?” I ask Griffin, smiling nervously as I scan around us. Confusion has me narrowing my eyes and waiting for any reason at all for this to become clear to me.

  “I knew you were the one for me when you knocked me on my ass in a parking lot and told me you were not a woman to be messed with,” he begins, focusing intently on me with that stormy blue stare of his that is shining like diamonds. He takes my hand into his much bigger one, squeezing my fingers encouragingly.

  “Seriously, what is going on?” I look at the stands to find Henry and Dad smiling at me, looking like twins with their arms crossed over their chests. My heart flutters in anticipation and puzzlement.

  “I decided to make you mine when you met me toe-to-toe and called me an asshole instead of letting me get away with shitty behavior.” He laughs along with the crowd and shakes his head. “I knew we were meant to be together when you helped me grow into a better man that was capable of letting you in.”

  “Oh my God,” I whisper, as realization dawns on me and I see where this is going. He. Can’t. Be. I shift from foot to foot, my nerves now at a fever pitch of excitement.

  Griffin just shakes his head and smiles. “I fell in love with you when you chose to follow your dreams in a way that kept you with me on this team. And now I want to spend the rest of my life with the woman who can beat my ass in a drift competition.” He lets go of my hand and reaches into his fire suit, pulling out a box that he cracks open as he kneels down on the asphalt in front of me. “Shelby Elise Jensen, will you marry me?”

  Hot tears are already spilling down my cheeks as I nod yes and fling myself into his arms, knocking us both to the ground.

  “She said yes!” Griffin says into the microphone as he laughs from under me.

  I cover his face with kisses and my happy tears. I can’t believe this. This has got to be a dream. I let him help me back to my feet and pull off my gloves with shaking hands. He slides a stunning diamond solitaire ringed by a halo of black diamonds onto my finger. It sparkles brilliantly under the lights and I lose my breath again. It’s so beautiful, I can’t take my eyes off of it. Except I want to look at Griffin more, which finally severs the hold the new ring has over me. I feel like Gollum, going all ‘My Pr
ecious’ on it. I rub my thumb over the pave diamonds along the band and remember why we are out here tonight.

  “Oh my God, I won!” I say to Griffin, jumping up and down again as my brain ricochets between the two greatest things that have ever happened to me.

  He chuckles and takes my hand, leading me to the Black Sheep. “Baby, you won it all. You won the race tonight and you won my heart a long time ago. Now let’s get these beasts to the trailers and get you up on that podium.”

  I nod as I strap my helmet back on. I think of something and stick my head out the window. “You hungry?” I call to Griffin’s retreating back.

  He stops and turns back toward me, scratching his chin in mock consideration. “You know, I could go for some donuts right about now.”

  “You read my mind. Let’s get some.” I crank the engine and roast the tires as he gets into the Supra. When he starts to smoke the tires, the screech of rubber blending with mine, I slip the clutch and twist the wheel, letting the back end walk out into a circle that he immediately joins. We are nose to nose, our cars moving clockwise around an invisible point that holds us together. I catch his eyes through the windshield and think about how lucky I am to be here, with the man I love, doing the one thing we care about almost as much as each other, together. The sound of the squealing tires and the engines is deafening, but I still laugh in delight. I spin the wheel around and bring the Black Sheep into a donut next to where Griffin has brought the Supra to a standstill, revving the engine. He lets me pass and then brings the Supra alongside for some more circular action before we roar past the stands and off the track back toward the pit and our trailers.