Hustle

by Teagan Kade

  His cock bobs between us. I reach down and take it, letting my hand lightly pump his shaft. “Better make this worth it then.”

  He takes me under the thighs and lifts me onto the top of the cone, spreading my legs and diving between them, the carbon-fiber cold under my ass.

  I smell his sweat, the musky masculinity leaking from his pores, his sex.

  I let him open me with his tongue, let his lips pull and tug at my pussy until I’m squirming in blissful agony, one hand gathering my breasts together and the other raking through his hair, shifting him harder against my eager sex.

  I close my eyes and the sensation becomes overwhelming. I can’t take it. I lift him by the hips, lying back and opening my mouth.

  He gets the hint, standing and straddling the cone of the car to sit over my face.

  I take him around the root, his manhood rigid and hot in my grip. Holding him, I lift my head and take him inside my mouth, filling it with saliva. I make it wet just the way I know he likes it, strands of drool and spittle running down his shaft as I bob up and down eagerly. I never thought I’d get off on blowjobs, but my center grows increasingly moist every time he strokes between my lips.

  He swings his hips forward, each time driving a little deeper into my mouth. “Sara. Jesus.”

  He gives a stuttered moan and rams even deeper, my lips caught against my hand around his root, his masculine essence filling me. I contract my throat muscles and he begins to stiffen, his release imminent.

  I draw him away and spread my legs, each foot perched on top of a tire. I run two fingers into my slit. I span it apart, showing off my molten center red and hungry, a slobbery mouth begging to be filled.

  He walks back down, lying over me and shifting until his glistening cock is nestled snuggly between my legs.

  I hold his sides, lifting my head to lick up his chest, the salty slab of muscle running down his center. “This is crazy. None of the doors are locked. Anyone could come in.”

  He takes hold of his cock. “Let them. Let them see how lucky I am.”

  My mouth snaps open as he fills me, his cock running hot to the juicy opening of my pussy.

  I lose all sense of reality, of time and place itself as he fucks me. His cock opens up new areas inside my body, finds corners and pockets of excitement I never even knew existed.

  I wrap my arms around his neck and lift myself against his him. I work my hips so his cock shovels deep into the creamy pocket of my pussy.

  He bites the bottom of my lip, buries his nose in my hair as he lifts me from the car completely and draws himself out, forcing me to kneel and bend over the front tire.

  He kneels behind me, pressing me down so my hair hangs over my face, swaying against the slick face of the tire as he lines up his cock and rams into me.

  The hard rubber pulls against my skin, the friction building and Andy unrelenting as he grips my ass, pounding harder and harder, seemingly unable to quench his cock’s thirst.

  I let out a strained whimper as something cold and slippery works its way down the crack of my ass, turning to find Andy scooping the spilt oil off the floor, ladling handfuls of it over my back and rump.

  The syrupy fluid runs in golden sheets over my cheeks, running down my thighs and puddling around my knees as he fucks me, his cock continuing to stroke long and deep.

  He grunts, tightening, the sound of his monster cock sluicing in and out of my soaking sex obscenely loud, the oil mixing with our shared arousal as our bodies crash together.

  His fingers run down the river of oil and begin to press against my asshole. One straightens and probes forward, the ring of my ass clamping upon the knuckle, the sensation that has been building sent into the stratosphere.

  He curls the finger around, slowly draws it out before running it once more deep inside the burning glove of my ass. It takes everything I have to hold off my climax.

  Fucking my ass with his finger, his cock in my pussy, I’m moments away from release when he draws the finger away.

  “No,” I protest, but he has other plans.

  Bent over my back, Andy strokes like a man possessed, hips swinging and cock punching in and out of my hot pussy. I respond by begging him for more, that it’s okay, to fill me with his cum.

  His pace picks up with my words. He thrusts furiously into the tight sheath of my pussy, fucks right to the end of me with every powerful stroke, the rubber growing warm against my breasts.

  He hooks me around the waist and lifts me from the tire, holding my torso in mid-air, his balls swinging up against my clit like a battering ram. He reaches down and scoops up more oil, rubbing it over my nipples and chest until I’m slick and shiny, unable to do anything but submit completely.

  “Andy,” I breathe, surrendering.

  I look back and see him exhale, eyes closed and lost in the wet comfort of my pussy. I push back against him, the arousal leaking from my pussy scalding hot, the oil warming.

  “Fuck,” he moans, cock jerking in my depths as I settle around his root.

  I screw backwards, doing my very best to snap his cock off completely with my muscles, my core strained and ready, bursts of sensation running throughout my body.

  His finger runs back into my ass. I start to spasm around it.

  He grits his teeth together.

  I can’t hold it off any longer. “I’m going to-”

  I reach back and grab a handful of his hair, pulling him into my shoulder as I come. I dig my fingers into his scalp, groaning and growling deep in my throat and feeling myself tide over as he lets go inside of me, a ball of heat growing in my depths.

  I lift myself up slightly, back bent and bowed, jamming down again lost in a coma of pure ecstasy I can barely fathom, only the tire in front of me for support. My ass and pussy grip and release him, clamping like a vice around his cock and finger.

  Andy gives a stunted gasp, convulsing again as he draws out of my body, a hot flood following.

  He falls onto his backside while I slump over the tire, cheek against the rubber and eyes hazy. I glance down at the floor. “Quite a mess you made.”

  My nipples stand stained and syrupy in the light, my skin covered in swirly fluid.

  He speaks directly to the creamy slit of my pussy dripping oil and arousal. “Speak for yourself.”

  *

  I try to focus on my job the following day, but the encounter in the garage has left me stunned. We’ve had sex, we’ve made love, but that… God, I don’t even know what that was only that I’ve never come so hard, so completely. It felt like I left my body for a moment there, drifting between worlds.

  I’m thinking about it right when I hear the commotion.

  I rush to the monitors, the cameras pulling into focus.

  Oh, fuck.

  Andy and Carl have collided with two laps to go, Carl’s car is wedged against the wall and Andy’s missing a front tire, smoking from the rear.

  Steven doesn’t move from his desk, eyes glued to the screen. How will this play out for him if neither of them finish?

  The two drivers make a go for each other as they’re pulled over the barrier, but the marshals manage to keep them apart.

  They return to the garage in minutes, the cars removed and the race continuing on. Neither of them will win any points this round. It’s the worst possible result for Goodall.

  Andy’s the first to catch Steven’s temper. “You fucking—” but Andy walks right out the back door, ignoring him completely, ignoring me.

  Five minutes later, Carl responds in precisely the same way.

  Soon the Goodall garage is short two drivers, only gaining two wrecks in return.

  *

  Unable to get ahold of Carl or Andy, I face the press conference alone. It’s intimidating, the room packed given the crash. I try to make it as short as possible, but in the end I can’t help myself when someone raises the question of Andy’s integrity.

  I push away the paper in front of me, addressing the reporter directly.
“If there is blame to be leveled, it should be directed at the team orders.”

  “Team orders?” comes the obvious reply.

  “To hamper Andy retaining the championship.”

  An explosion of activity and questions follow.

  I see Steven seething at the back of the room, but I’m ready for him.

  “Is it true you and Andy Fortes are in a romantic relationship?” a girl down the front blurts, thrusting a microphone into my face.

  I collect my papers and stand. “That’s all we have time for, sorry.”

  Steven waits until I’m away from the press to speak to his mind.

  He takes my arm, pressing me up against the stairwell wall. It’s the first time I’ve physically witnessed how dangerous he is.

  He looks around to make sure we’re alone.

  I shrug him off. “Touch me again and you won’t have an arm.”

  He stabs into the air in front of my face with his finger. “You fucking whore. I’m going to ruin you and your precious boyfriend.”

  I don’t need to listen to this. He can’t touch me.

  I step around him and keep walking down the stairs. “I’d like to see you try.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN: MEXICO

  Steven

  Stacey Solomon and I had a thing when I first came aboard Goodall. It was five minutes in the men’s bathroom at the Hilton Berlin—a glorious five minutes—but that was it. The thing I appreciate about Stacey, however, is that she does everything for a reason, to further herself, even if it means sucking cock after cock after cock. I’m pretty sure she’s been through every heavy hitter in the top tier of Formula One. Good for her.

  She’s surprised when I call, but as soon as I mention Andy Fortes, she’s on board. She hasn’t even asked about compensation yet.

  “Do you know Sara Young?” I ask.

  Her voice comes back sugary, sickly sweet. “Cute little thing. They’re totally fucking, you know.”

  Everyone suspects it, but they’re yet to make it official. I act clueless. “Andy and Sara?”

  “Yeah,” Stacey replies, “but if you want me to seduce Andy, it’s not going to work. He hasn’t been very receptive to my advances lately.”

  “No, not Andy. I need you to focus on Sara.”

  A short little laugh. “Girls aren’t really my thing, Steven, and I don’t think Miss Caliber is quite into munching vagina.”

  “I don’t want you to seduce her. I need you to invite her to lunch.”

  “Lunch?”

  “On me, of course, perhaps slip a little something into her drink.”

  “And what would that be?”

  “Nothing that will do any long-term damage.”

  In a way I can’t believe what I’m asking, that these words are actually coming out of my mouth, but desperate times call for desperate fucking measures. People, bad fucking people, will have my head if Andy takes out the championship again. When I can’t pay them back they’re going to take something else instead, and it won’t be my wallet.

  With the silence I think I’ve lost her, but then her voice comes back low and thick. “I see, but that will cost you.”

  I knew she’d come through. “Name your price.”

  Andy

  Sara’s looking at her phone like it’s an ancient alien artifact. Austin seems like years ago now. She was right. The media forgot about the crash soon enough, not that Steven let it go so easily.

  “What’s up?” I offer.

  We’re on top of the Hyatt Hotel, the crazy mass of Mexico City like an ivory spider’s web below. It’s dusty, dry. I don’t think this place has ever seen rain.

  Sara slips her phone into her pocket. “I just received a very strange offer.”

  “Not another man, I hope?”

  She leans against the railing. I want to lift the back of her dress up and fuck her silly. I don’t care if anyone sees us.

  She smirks. “A woman.”

  “How curious.”

  She laughs. “That’s an understatement.”

  “Are you going to take her up on it?”

  “The offer? I probably shouldn’t, but curiosity is getting the better of me.”

  My phone buzzes. They probably need me at the track. Traffic in Mexico City is always a nightmare, “I’ve got to head off, but whatever it is, enjoy. I’ll be waiting.”

  Steven

  I cannot believe it worked. It wasn’t hard to find Rohypnol here. They’ll sell you anything if you show them enough green.

  I knew it would work fast, dropped in red wine where the dye wouldn’t show. I’ve used it before, after all. Stacey might be a slut, but she has a brain and knew how to get it done.

  I sling Sara’s arm around my shoulder, Stacey helping me get her into the passenger seat of the hired car. The loading dock is walled on every side, no cameras. I checked.

  My heart’s pumping hard, my cock likewise. It’s fucking exciting. I can see why people get off on this.

  I prop her up in the seat, looking to Stacey. “How’d you get her out?”

  “Told the maître-d’ she’d had a little too much to drink. He seemed used to it, like everyone who comes in here leaves drop-dead drunk.”

  I close the door, Sara’s head slumped against the window, her neck at a bad angle. Fuck it.

  I hand Stacey over an envelope. “For all your effort, and not a fucking word, you hear? You’re as implicit in this as I am now.”

  She places a finger to her lips. “I wouldn’t dare.”

  “This never happened.”

  A thin smile opens up on her face. “What never happened?”

  Good girl.

  Mexico City is a fucking horrendous to drive around in, but this is something I couldn’t leave to anyone else. I look over at her and for a moment consider finding a quiet alley and fucking her senseless, but I don’t have the balls.

  Like kidnapping her is any better.

  I hear my father. Whatever it takes, Steven. Whatever it takes.

  It’s what needs to be done.

  At least that’s what I tell myself as we pull into the hotel, palms sweaty.

  I get the key from the front desk and bring her in from the back. She’s light as a feather, even unconscious.

  I’m sweating an Olympic pool in this heat. I get her into the room, toss her on the bed, taking out a cable tie and cinching her hands tight behind her back.

  I tilt her head to the side so she can breathe. The last thing I need is for her to suffocate. I’m not willing to step up to murder just yet. Give it time, though…

  I go to tie her ankles, stopping momentarily to lift her skirt and get an eyeful of the snatch Andy’s supposedly so obsessed with. I start to get another chubby, letting her skirt fall back into place.

  For a second I think about calling it all off, but it’s gone too far now. I’m committed. I remember the threats, the money at stake—I’m going through with it. I have to. I won’t survive if I don’t.

  I take out the burner phone and the vocoder I’ve had for a while. Haven’t used this crap since my days in the corporate trenches.

  I’ve got to hand it myself, so far, so good. If all goes to plan, I’ll be five-million dollars richer come morning, every debt I have gone like that. That will buy me all the pussy I’ll ever need.

  Andy

  Somehow it’s even hotter at the Autodromo Hermanos Rodriguez, a real dustbowl of a track. That’s the thing about Mexico. It gives off the illusion that everything is ship-shape, but look closer and it’s all a patch job waiting to fall apart.

  I try Sara. I haven’t heard from her since this morning. Lately we’ve been texting each other non-stop. It’s weird. She’s tied to that phone. I’ve never known her to turn it off. Maybe she really is having a lesbian affair?

  I look to Klaus, who’s still busying checking over the car. He’s the only one of these grease monkeys I trust. “So? All good?”

  He cleans with hands. “I can’t find anything wrong with
it, Andy. I’ve been over it three times.”

  “Okay.”

  There’s comfort knowing at least the car is up to scratch today. Question is, am I?

  I’m running over the track layout when my phone rings. I don’t recognize the number.

  It could be Sara.

  I answer. “Yes?”

  The voice that replies is modulated, robotic. “If you want to see your girlfriend again, lose the race.”

  I’m caught off guard. I look around expecting to see a masked figure in the distance, but the lot’s empty. What the fuck? “Who is this?”

  “Lose the race and she will be returned. Win and she’s dead.”

  It has to be a joke, I think.

  The line goes dead. I hold the phone, staring at it, unable to comprehend what’s going on, but this is Mexico. People are kidnapped all the time. People are killed all the time. Someone’s betting big on this race and they want me to take the fall, or at least that’s how they want it to look. Something about the phrasing tells me this is no joke.

  It takes a while for the dread to settle, but when it does I get straight into action.

  I try Sara again, but her phone’s still off. In the few minutes I have before race time, I call her sister, then Caliber, but no one’s heard from her. She’s not in her suite, not at the track and no one’s seen her around the pits all day. I’m starting to get very fucking concerned.

  The head mechanic is waving me towards the front of the garage. “Andy, it’s time.”

  I pace, hands on my head. I have to make a decision soon.

  “Shit!” I shout, kicking my boot into the ground.

  There’s no way around it. I could call the authorities, but what are they going to do? The race starts in minutes.

  It’s a joke, a bluff.

  My phone buzzes again. I swipe across to a picture of Sara lying on a bed, hands tied behind her back, eyes closed.

  Fuck.

  I can’t take the risk. I have to lose.

  *

  I make mistakes, but they’re calculated. I keep on Carl, keep the pressure up. I’m going to lose, I tell myself, but it’s not going to be by much.