Burning Rubber: Extreme Racing, Book 2

by Pamela Britton

  Eyes that had closed without her noticing suddenly snapped open. He stared down at her, a look of intense…what? She couldn’t pin the expression in his eyes. Desire? Anger? Frustration? Perhaps all of the above.

  “Done?” she asked, her body beginning to tremble it took so much effort to keep from moving. “You mean you’ll drive for us?”

  “On one condition.”

  She knew she wouldn’t like the condition, but she had only herself to blame. She’d been the one to trod the fine line between whoring and business.

  “What’s that?” she asked warily.

  He shifted so she was beneath him, his erection pressing into her center in a way that frustrated the hell out of her. She wanted him to rip off her underwear. To thrust himself inside of her again. God help her, to take her as violently and thoroughly as he had before.

  “You’re going to become my mistress, Callie. I want you available for sex twenty-four/seven.”

  Yesyesyes! She wanted to scream the words. Remarkably, she heard herself say, “I have a job, Derrick. I can’t just jet off willy-nilly—”

  He cupped her with his hand, and from somewhere, she didn’t know where, came a keening sound which gave the game away. She realized then he’d known all along the kind of effect he had on her. She’d been played, expertly.

  “Anywhere.” He plucked at her nub of pleasure in a way that had her moaning all over again. “Any time.” His tongue swept across her bottom lip, claiming the very essence of her. “Any place.”

  The trembling had turned into tremors of pleasure. His fingers found her core and she knew she was about to climax again.

  “Callie?” he asked softly, his breath a soft whisper against her cheek. “Is that a deal?”

  “Yes.”

  “What’s that?” His fingers teased her to the point she’d begun to see spots.

  “Yes,” she moaned, louder. She couldn’t take it anymore. She pushed into him.

  “Say it again,” he said.

  “Yes,” she panted now.

  “Look at me,” he ordered.

  Possessiveness. That was what she saw in his eyes.

  “You’re going to come for me, Callie. Then I’m going to flip you over and take you from behind and you’re going to come all over again and that’s the way it’s going to be between us for as long as I drive in the XRL.”

  She screamed.

  Her whole body convulsed at the force of her orgasm. Callie cried out and then moaned with pleasure when he flipped her over and took her from behind…exactly as he’d promised.

  For the first time in his life, Derrick had a hard time focusing.

  It’d been two hours since he’d left Callie in the motorcoach. Two hours and he sat in line on pit road waiting to qualify and yet his blood still ran hot at the thought of some of the things he’d done to her earlier. Sure, he knew he should feel bad. She’d been the one to open the door of exchanging sex for a favor.

  “Ah, Derrick, you planning on joining us today?”

  The words were like a shock to his system. “Excuse me?”

  “We need to move the car forward.”

  Holy crap. He’d been so deep in thought he’d actually zoned out there for a moment.

  “Roger that.”

  He took his foot off the brake. Two more cars stood in front of him, the grandstands to the left of him filled with people who’d taken time off work to watch him and other drivers qualify. He appreciated that, he really did. Even after all these years he knew he had a lot to be grateful for, especially that he still had race fans. It was still sunny and clear outside and if he were honest with himself, he was getting a little overheated. Hard to believe it was November.

  “Should be about five more minutes,” his crew chief, Brad, said. The man looked stressed out, his dark eyes framed by worry lines, black hair completely catawampus thanks to the headset he wore. Derrick almost told him to relax. He had everything under control.

  Would she be there when he got done qualifying?

  He mentally shook his head. He’d told her to stick around, but he doubted she would. She’d take off the moment his back was turned, and then later, when he confronted her about it, she’d give him some song-and-dance story about changing her mind.

  He loved that about her.

  She wasn’t like the other women in his past. She made sex exciting and invigorating. Over the years sex had gotten to be…sex. Boring. When you were propositioned by good-looking women on a daily basis, it got old after awhile. Sure, he wasn’t above taking a few of those women to bed every once in a while. What man didn’t like a blow-job? Callie was different though. She could care less he was Derrick Derringer. All she cared about was her X-TREME Racing League.

  “Ah, Derrick.”

  Shit. He’d done it again.

  “Got it…got it.”

  He guided the car forward again. One more to go and then it was his turn. He should be recounting his practice sessions. Remembering the places where his car got loose, or tight. Instead he found himself contemplating Callie again. He would demand she join him at a race next weekend. She would say no, of course. He didn’t believe for one minute she’d knuckle-down and do as he demanded. She would balk every time. He’d have to play hard ball, but that was okay. It would add an edge to their encounters, and a sense of excitement that had been missing from sex for a long, long time.

  “Start it up,” his crew chief ordered.

  Derrick blinked, glanced around, then complied with his crew chief’s demands and flipped the start switch. Instantly, the sound of the generator warming his oil faded beneath the roar of eight-hundred-plus horse power engine. A white-clad official stopped near the front of his car, hand held high—as if Derrick were a rookie who might jump the gun.

  Hardly.

  He clutched the steering wheel, wondering if Callie watched. Well, if she was, she would soon be grateful for the deal she’d struck with him. He was about to smoke the doors off the track. Maybe even set a new record. There was only one race left to go after Phoenix and he had every intention of winning both of them, locking up the year-end championship. If he did that he’d be in a better position to bargain with his team owner over driving for XRL.

  “Be ready in twenty seconds, Derrick,” his crew chief told him.

  Derrick didn’t respond. He’d done this thousands of times. He knew the drill. So did his team, his crew members dropping away from the side of the car to watch him from pit wall.

  The white-clad official stepped back. Derrick gunned it. Instantly, his car leaped forward, leaving twin streaks of rubber behind. Derrick almost smiled. Instead he focused. Phoenix was a small track. It was also flatter than most. He’d need to pay attention. A quick glance at his gauges told him all was well. Sunlight arced off the windshield as he came off pit road and entered the track near the back stretch. People atop race car haulers and RVs cheered him before they, too, faded from view, his RPMs revving higher and higher. Turns three and four loomed ahead. Derrick knew instantly his crew had been right on the money when setting up the car. He felt as if his car were glued to the asphalt

  “One to go,” came his crew chief’s voice.

  The track, its outbuildings, and the infield became nothing but a blur as he increased his speed. The flag stand loomed ahead, the green banner waved in his direction. He didn’t think he could go any faster, but somehow he managed to eke out a few more horses as he slammed the car into turn one. He knew instantly he had a winner. The car didn’t break traction once. As he followed his usual line around, a smile broke out on his face.

  “Lookin’ good,” his crew chief said as entered turn three.

  Better than good, Derrick thought. This lap would be fast.

  It was. “Thirty-three seven,” Brad reported, the smile in his voice clearly evident. “That’s fast enough for the pole by a long shot.”

  His next lap would be even better. More stick. Smoother lines. It would add up to another blistering ET.
As he rounded the track one more time, sound faded. His field of vision narrowed. Black asphalt filled his gaze, as did the hood of his race car, the fiberglass vibrating from the force of the wind. One turn, then another. Turn three was on him before he could blink. His back end kicked out a bit as he headed for the start/finish line.

  “Whew, doggie,” Brad exclaimed. “That’s a track record, Derrick! Shit!”

  He cut the motor, back pressure from the car’s engine pop-pop-popping as he slowed down. The sound inside the cockpit going from sonic boom to a gentle hum.

  “Great job setting up the car.” This weekend’s race was in the bag. Barring any unforeseen disasters, he should finish well—well enough to wrap up the championship on race ahead of schedule.

  “Terrific job driving,” Brad echoed back. “I feel a celebration coming on.”

  Actually, Derrick thought, he already had plans. He knew exactly the way he wanted to celebrate—if Callie hadn’t flown the coop, that is.

  Chapter Seventeen

  She couldn’t get out of Phoenix fast enough.

  Callie knew Derrick would be livid. She might even risk him dropping out of the league—if he was ever serious about their deal in the first place. Whatever his true motives were for demanding such a deal, she knew he wouldn’t be happy when he returned to his motorcoach to find her gone.

  She would call his cell. Leave him a message telling him she’d been ordered away on urgent business.

  He’d know that was an out-and-out lie.

  Phoenix’s brown mountaintops looked as bleak as her mood. Craggy rocks and the ever-present cacti colored the mountain an army-green. She actually liked the barren landscape. Phoenix looked a lot like L.A. would look if it hadn’t been buried beneath asphalt and concrete.

  Her cell phone beeped.

  Callie avoided looking at the display. It would be Derrick or maybe Veronica. Either way, it didn’t matter. She didn’t want to talk to anyone right now. In fact, the more she thought about it, the more she liked the idea of driving back home. Why not? She hadn’t had a day off since—she tried to think that far back, couldn’t. She needed some time away. Time to think. Time to decide what to do about Derrick.

  So she drove.

  Along the way she tried to get her head screwed on straight. That became hard to do when night fell and she was forced to find lodging. One glance at the bed in her hotel room and it was all over. Every naughty thing she and Derrick had done earlier came rushing back to her. She thought maybe a shower would cool her off, but it only made it worse. Her skin was raw in certain places thanks to his razor stubble. It was a good kind of raw, the kind which made her burn when she recalled exactly what he’d been doing to her to make her flesh so red.

  Things didn’t improve the next day.

  When she checked her missed calls, she noticed Derrick had called four times—Veronica ten. That couldn’t be good. Had he tattled on her? Frankly, she didn’t want to know, preferred, instead, to enjoy her last few hours of peace and quiet before she was forced to confront her transgressions.

  As it turned out, she’d been worried about nothing. When she checked voice mail, Derrick’s messages hadn’t been hostile at all. In fact, he’d sounded amused. Veronica—well, she was just Veronica. The woman was never happy and she’d sounded increasingly perturbed when she hadn’t been able to get a hold of Callie to find out if she’d signed Derrick or not. Her crazy boss wouldn’t be happy when she found out Callie hadn’t been successful. Or had she been successful? Was her deal with Derrick off now? She was afraid to call him and find out.

  Her boss accosted her the moment she arrived. Callie felt like a play toy for a cat, a fly being batted around and pawed over and over again.

  “Why didn’t you call me back this weekend?” she snapped the moment she entered her office.

  Good to see you too, Veronica.

  “I needed some time to think after the miserable weekend I had.”

  For a brief moment something resembling satisfaction entered Veronica’s eyes before she seemed to realize the ramifications of Callie’s words. “He turned you down?” she asked in disbelief. Or was it irritation?

  And against her better judgment, Callie found herself saying, “No. We made a deal.” Which they had, she just didn’t know if Derrick would honor that deal.

  To Callie’s utter amazement, Veronica’s eyes softened a bit—not that anything about Veronica looked soft this morning. She wore a black suit, her makeup so thick Callie wondered if she had a media appearance later in the day. And her hair. The usual red masses were pulled back sharply, almost severely, but on Veronica it looked stunning…of course.

  “So you did it?” She crossed her arms in front of her.

  “I did.” Callie tried not to squint because of the pain behind her eyes. Migraine. No doubt about it.

  “Well that’s great news,” Veronica suddenly all buddy-buddy-like. Callie didn’t buy it for a moment. “You didn’t have any reason to be miserable. Why didn’t you call and tell me?”

  Because I was avoiding you. Because I’m not certain Derrick will honor our deal. Because every time I move I’m reminded of the hot, hot sex I had with Derrick.

  “I was tired,” Callie confessed. “I needed a break. I’ve been going at it pretty hard.”

  For once, Veronica seemed to understand. Well, at least she didn’t say anything sarcastic.

  “Was he mean to you?” her boss asked.

  Thanks to her headache, it took Callie a moment to figure out what she was asking. “Was who mean to me?”

  “Derrick.” Veronica moved away from the door to stand in front of Callie’s desk. Why did she always do that? Didn’t she realize it hurt Callie’s neck to have to look up at her like that?

  “Not really,” Callie hedged, finally deciding her head hurt too much to stare up at her boss. She jerked her glasses off and tried massaging her temples. “I mean, he demanded I have sex with him in exchange for driving for us. That’s all.”

  Silence, a quiet during which Callie realized she’d spoken those words out loud, not in her head, as she’d imagined she’d done.

  She risked a peek up at Veronica. Her boss had gone back to rigid again—like an Elgin marble.

  “He did what?”

  “Nothing, Veronica,” Callie said quickly. “It’s nothing. We have Derrick Derringer. That’s all that matters.”

  “Did that piece of shit actually make you to sleep with him before agreeing to drive for us?”

  Callie thought about the question for a moment, but what the hell. In for a penny, in for a pound. She felt a sick sense of grim satisfaction that Veronica would now know how badly Derrick had wanted her. So badly, in fact, he’d had to force her into sex.

  “As a matter of fact, he did.”

  “Get him on the phone,” Veronica snapped, coming around the edge of her desk.

  She had to lean back all of a sudden to get a peek at the face that appeared to be consumed by…rage? On her behalf? For real?

  “Veronica, no—”

  “Don’t tell me no. That’s completely unacceptable. Men don’t have the right to make those types of requests. You should have told him no. Or, or called me. Or left the race.” Her boss’s green eyes suddenly narrowed. “Unless you wanted to agree.”

  Callie quickly blurted, “No.”

  Something in the word must have been convincing because Veronica’s posture eased. “He took complete advantage of the situation,” she added.

  He’d wanted her bad. That, too, filled her with satisfaction.

  “Then he’s a jerk.” Veronica made a grab for her phone. “And I’m going to tell him as much.”

  “No.” Callie pushed down the hang-up button before Veronica could dial. “Don’t do that,” Callie pleaded. “Think about it, Veronica. We have Derrick Derringer right where we want him.”

  Maybe.

  But Callie wasn’t going to let him back out of their deal.

  “He’s agreed to dr
ive for us.”

  In exchange for sex with me.

  She refused to think about that.

  “And if he balks, why then, we’ll just…just…” Callie had to think for a moment because the last thing she needed, the absolute last thing she wanted was Veronica calling Derrick and learning Callie hadn’t exactly been an unwilling partner in the whole scheme. It would be even worse if she learned Callie had been the one to offer up sex in exchange for Derrick driving in the XRL. “We’ll threaten him with a lawsuit. Sexual harassment or something. It’s okay. I’m fine. Nothing bad happened. At least nothing that hasn’t happened before.” Well, that wasn’t precisely true. Derrick had done things to her she’d never done before, but Veronica didn’t need to know the details.

  “Let’s forget about it, shall we?” Callie added. “What’s done is done. Let’s move forward.”

  Who was she talking to? Herself?

  Callie ignored the little voice inside her head. Instead she tipped her chin up, gave Veronica a brave smile, and held her breath as she waited for Veronica’s next move. There was a moment when Callie feared she might have laid it on a bit too thick because Veronica was peering down at her, the oddest expression on her face.

  “You poor, poor woman,” Veronica said gently, and could it be…was that actually kindness in her boss’s eyes? “I can’t believe what it must have been like.”

  Fuck me, Derrick, now.

  That’s what it’d been like.

  “The man is a cad. He should be made to pay.” Veronica straightened away from her desk. “And one day he will, but you’re right, we need to wait. We’ll pounce on him at just the right moment.”

  Thank God. She wasn’t going to call him.

  “I’ll keep my distance from him,” Callie agreed. “And I’ll let you deal with him from here on out.” Derrick ought to love that, although she doubted he’d want a thing to do with her boss.

  “When were you supposed to see him next?”

  Screw me. Any time. Day or night.

  Callie very nearly blanched as she recalled the words.

  Had he really meant it?

  “At our final test session in two weeks.”