by Stahl, Shey
I thought about that for a moment. He was right.
“How’d you know I loved her?”
Charlie let out a deep chuckle, his smile somewhat boyish. “Son, you’ve loved my little girl from the moment you two met. Jimi and I actually had bets on how long it would take for you to pull your head out of your ass. Won myself five hundred bucks.” He nodded arrogantly and then his face turned solemn. “I know you’ll take care of her and that baby.” His head dipped in approval. “I just hope that I’m around to at least see the baby born and walk my only daughter down the aisle.”
Man, talk about pressure. Like I said, I knew I wanted to propose but now it was like there was a fire under my ass to do it soon. I wasn’t the type of guy who liked being pressured into doing things.
When I made it upstairs to Sway’s room, after finishing off the fifth of whiskey with Charlie, I was three sheets to the wind.
Stumbling around, trying to get my clothes off was a difficult task. Thankfully, Sway was a sound sleeper, I could start my goddamn race car in her room and she still wouldn’t wake.
I managed to get undressed and snuggled in bed with her. She sighed contently when I wrapped my arms around her tiny waist. Worming her way in, she sighed when our bodies touched. She didn’t have to be awake, our bodies knew each other to the point they could anticipate the contact.
Falling asleep wasn’t easy. I had no idea how I was going to propose to Sway but I knew I needed to make it special for her. She deserved that much. I also needed to do it soon. Knowing Charlie wouldn’t be around much longer, it’d be a miracle if he made it to Christmas. Though I knew about his sickness for close to a year now, it still didn’t change the heartache I felt thinking he was dying and there was nothing anyone could do for him. Sure he could try radiation therapy again but what would that do but prolong the inevitable. The cancer had spread.
Eventually I did sleep and when I woke up, I was alone in bed.
It wasn’t long and I found myself back at the track only this time as an owner, not a driver.
“Hey, you’re Jameson Riley.”
I turned around to see who it was. I didn’t recognize him.
“Yeah, so...” I turned back toward Aiden. It may have been rude, but I was also working.
I didn’t have time for this today. My whole fucking morning had been this way. First it started by waking up alone. Sway had gotten up early to get to the track so I’d yet to even see her. When Aiden and I arrived at the track, I was bombarded with fans waiting for me to arrive. Word got out I was the new the owner, which meant a constant stream of fan fair. Good for business, bad for me.
Don’t get me wrong. I appreciate everyone that comes out to watch me race but there are times when it was overwhelming. Everyone wants just a few seconds with you but then so does the next guy. Before you know it, you’ve been standing there an hour signing autographs. That right there is what wears on you over time.
The kid, who apparently knew me, followed us toward the concession stands of Grays Harbor on our way to get coffee.
“I’m Dylan Grady. We went to high school together.”
Dylan...I don’t know a Dylan...wait a second.
“Oh yeah,” I turned toward him. “I remember you. You also knew Sway, right?”
He laughed arrogantly. “Not really, at least not standing up.” Dylan hinted with a smug smile.
I shook my head laughing; one hard warning laugh. Before he could even comprehend what happened, I drew my fist back and punched him square in the jaw, and then I followed up with an elbow to his nose—we both heard the gruesome snap. Considering what he did to Sway, I didn’t stop. Instead, I brought my knee up hard to his stomach to get my greeting across.
He gasped loudly crying out in pain. Yanking his limp body up, I slammed him against the wall of the ticket booth. His eyes went wide with panic mirroring Aiden’s.
“That’s for what you did to Sway.” I smiled manically back at him letting him go. Sliding down the wall, his hands instantly went to his bleeding nose. He said nothing, just whimpered.
“Nice seeing you again...Devin.” I began to walk away as though nothing happened.
Aiden, just as shocked as Dylan, stared at me.
“What did he do to Sway?” Aiden asked, his head turned to look at him and then back to me.
“Took her virginity and never called again.”
Have you ever heard that saying you don’t mess with the south? Yeah, well, Aiden is a good example of that. He stomped back over to Dylan, punched in his broken nose and was back to walking beside me.
He fits in the family perfectly.
“What the fuck!” Dylan cried out as he grabbed a handful of napkins from the concession stand.
Back Marker – Sway
“What’s he doing out there?” Jameson sipped his mocha beside me, his shoulder bumping mine.
I’d gotten up early this morning so this was the first I’d seen him. The World of Outlaws race was tonight which meant we had a very busy day here. Though on the outside I appeared calm, internally I was excited. Everyone was here together for the first time in years. Charlie however wasn’t making today easy.
“Watering the track,” I answered Jameson, giving him a quick kiss and then sipping my hot chocolate he’d brought me. “At least I think that’s what he’s doing.”
It sure didn’t look like he was watering the track the way he hauling ass. He needed to be going a lot slower than he was for it to work.
“Why is he watering the track?” Jameson looked alarmed. “Jesus, that doesn’t seem like a good idea!”
It wasn’t a good idea.
Charlie had recently begun experiencing memory loss that the doctors had warned me about and would frequently forget what he was doing, while he was doing it. Which is the why he no longer had a driver’s license. I was also aware of the fact that he reeked like whiskey, and so did Jameson.
I laughed because at that point. It was all I could do to keep from crying.
“He’s watering the track because he fired Hank this morning, something about not enough water. It looks like he’s trying to create a mud pit.”
“Who’s Hank?” Jameson looked confused. “We have someone to water the track?”
“Correction, we had someone to water the track. You have to hire someone else.”
“Well shit.” Was his only answer as we stared at Charlie creating the next Girls Gone Wild. I briefly wondered how the trophy girls felt about mud wrestling.
“Sway,” Charlie yelled for me through his megaphone some dumb shit gave him earlier today. I had a distinct feeling that dumb shit was Tommy Davis, our high school buddy and mechanic for Jameson’s sprint car team. “Go get me my tools. This piece of shit isn’t putting out enough water. I’m gonna fix this once and for all.”
Logan, Andrea’s son, walked up beside us and said, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” He chuckled. “Yesterday he tried to fix the dishwasher and now every time you turn on the kitchen light the dish washer sprays water all over the kitchen and sparks.”
Jameson and I just gawked in disbelieve. It was going to be long day. Not only was Charlie now firing people left and right, he’d gone completely crazy. I was now positive he was five cans short of a six pack.
Logan walked away toward Lucas, his twin brother who was picking up money that’d fallen out of people’s pockets under the grandstands. These two were little shits and I was positive their father was the devil. Andrea, my dad’s live-in girlfriend, was sweet and I had no idea how in the hell she gave birth to those monsters let alone not kill.
“I swear to god, Jameson.” I remembered my morning with Charlie. “If he tells me one more time his eggs taste like shit...I’m turning him into eggs...or shit.”
Jameson laughed pressing me to his side. Softly he kissed my forehead.
“I missed you.” He whispered his breath strong of whiskey and chocolate.
“I see you and Charlie finished off the bottle of whiskey last n
ight.”
“Sorry...it was his fault.” His sheepish grin was adorable.
“Blame the man with brain cancer...that’s low Jameson.”
He chuckled again tightening his grip. “It was his fault. He forced me to drink.”
“Yeah—” I began but was cut off by a little boy tugging on Jameson’s sweatshirt.
“Excuse me sir...can I get an autograph?” the little blonde haired boy asked. He was cute, couldn’t have been any older that five. Immediately I wanted to lean down and pinch his adorable puffy cheeks.
“Oh sure buddy,” Though he hated being interrupted when working, he loved the little pint sized fans. “What’s your name?” he asked kneeling beside him to reach for the picture he handed him.
“My name is Zack.” The little boy chimed.
Jameson wrote a little note to him before handing the photograph back. “There you go buddy.”
Zack’s eyes lit up with excitement when he glanced at the note. “Thank you!”
“Thanks man, you made his day.” His dad, I assumed, shook Jameson’s hand and they walked away.
Humbly, Jameson just smiled seeming uncomfortable with the praise.
I was in love. I had the sweetest dirty heathen around. But just as I was going to suggest we go up to his office, another fan approached us.
After the fourth one, I began to realize the entire day was going down like this. Jameson didn’t make it two feet and he was bombarded with a horde of fans all waiting for their chance to meet a hometown legend in the making.
Since Jameson took over ownership, my duties around the track were to keep smoke from turning into forest fires. This wasn’t easy these days but made the race night go by quickly.
Before the feature events began, I noticed I hadn’t seen Jameson in a few hours. Fearing for his safety with all these obsessed garage groupies hounding him, I went looking for his body hoping still had his arms and legs.
I spotted Alley and Lane at the merchandise booths.
“Hey, have you seen—” My phone beeped distracting me. It was Jameson. “Oh, never mind.”
His text said to meet him in his office. I climbed the stairs, passed through the announcer booth and made my way into the back office where I knew he’d be.
When I walked inside, there was no one there but the bathroom light was on so I assumed he was in there. The day hadn’t given me much quiet time, so it felt good to get away from Mallory, our office manager and her crazy antics. I loved the girl but on race days she acted as our scorer and she made me crazy.
Taking a seat in his large black leather chair, I noticed his laptop was on a slide show of pictures from our child hood and different races.
I watched the display, smiling at the ones from our summer together, when I heard the bathroom door open. My eyes flickered away from the screen for a second and shot back instantly when I saw Jameson leaning against the door frame, shirtless. His jeans hung low, revealing the sharp defined ridges of his hips, and his tattoos.
“Mmmm...” was all I could articulate in that moment.
Jameson smirked walking toward me, and then leaned back against the desk in front of me. I reached out to run my fingers along his waistband only to have him grasp it firmly before I could do so. An evil smile materialized as he gently tipped his head to the right. “Ah-uh,”
“Why not?”
“Tsk, tsk, Sway.” He whispered. “You’ve been a bad girl.”
I giggled. “Have I?”
“Yes, you’ve been very naughty.”
“Have not.”
“Yes you have.”
“Have not.” I crossed my arms over my chest glowering at him. Not an easy task with the glorified funbags in the way.
“Are you going to argue with me?” his expression hardened. “I don’t suggest it.”
“Why not?”
“It will only make your punishment more severe.”
I blanched. “W-w-what punishment?”
“Sway,” he shook his head, menacing eyes narrowed and raked down my body. “I warned you...I don’t like being teased, honey.”
By now, I was well aware of what he was referring to.
My phone call yesterday.
Playing along, I ran my foot up his long leg.
“So what’s my punishment?”
Jameson moved to stand in front of me, nudging my knees apart with his legs. Distracting me with wet seductive kisses, he bent forward, grasping both my wrists, and placing them on the arms of the chair. I kept them there, not paying any mind to the ministrations his hands were doing because holy hell the kissing was amazing. His tongue was soft and passionate, his lips warm and tender as they always were.
Before I could stop myself from turning into goo for this man, he handcuffed me to the motherfucking chair.
“That’s not fair!”
He tricked me but mother of pearl this was hot!
“I’ll tell you what’s not fair.” He paused, long fingers curled around my chin so I was looking him directly in the eyes. “What’s not fair is having my girlfriend deburring on the phone with me,” his brow arched in challenge when I opened my mouth to speak. “...while my brother was sitting across from me. That’s not fair.”
“It was funny.”
“Honey,” he drawled. “You shouldn’t have said that.”
Jameson knows me. He knows I’m not a morning person. He knows I have a chemical addiction to coffee, particularly white chocolate mochas. He knows that I hate to wear socks and would rather wear Old Navy flip flops every day of the year. He also knows exactly how to make my body respond to his and could have me screaming in minutes. He knew me.
I also wasn’t surprised at all when he knew exactly what to do to drive me to the point of sexual insanity.
Touching himself.
He kept his right hand around my neck, his thumb swept over my lower lip. His other hand traced the outline of my funbags, ran down my stomach, along my inner thigh, circled toward my crankcase and then pulled away.
My eyes searched his. He winked with a smirk biting down on his lower lip. His eyes fell closed and his forehead fell against mine. When he let out a soft groan, I dropped my eyes to his motions below to find that his hand was dipped inside his jeans, rubbing along his hard camshaft.
Hot fucking damn!
My only answer was to rub my thighs together searching for any type of friction. Jameson shook his head pushing forward, spreading my legs as he continued to stroke himself inside his jeans.
“What you did...driving me to the point of utter fixation...was cruel.” He breathed against my cheek, the words vibrated throughout.
“So is this...” I pointed out. “This is cruel.”
Let me explain, my hands were handcuffed to the chair. Jameson had my legs spread, panties were soaked with so much assembly lube I could bottle the shit and he was touching himself inches from me. And I couldn’t do a goddamn thing.
This is punishment in the cruelest form.
Jameson chuckled, amused by with himself and yanked away, unbuttoned his jeans, flipped my dress up to my waist and dropped to his knees.
Both of his strong hands slowly traveled from my ankles, up my thighs and around my ass where he pulled me to the edge. “I should make you beg me right now...but I need you so bad...that it’s going to happen like this,” he pulled my panties down to my lower thigh and ripped them off with his teeth.
Fucker...now I won’t have underwear the rest of the night. Not cool.
“You’re going to stay tied up, while I drive you to complete insanity.”
“You already have.”
“Ah honey,” he drew out lazily. “I haven’t even begun to drive you insane.”
We didn’t have a lot of time. Racing would be starting in less than twenty minutes but Jameson was talented at what he does and he knows his way around an engine.
His fingers were quick, his hands were strong, his tongue was fervent and his mouth was scorching.
> The problem I had is that Jameson would get me right to the point of my release and then pull away with a chuckle. He did this probably five times before I screamed, “Fuck me Jameson!” at the top of my lungs.
What was even more embarrassing were the chuckles from the announcer’s booth next to Jameson’s office.
Yep, ten grown men, most of which I grew up with, just heard me tell my boyfriend to fuck me.
Was I embarrassed? Yes, immensely so.
Did I care? Not one fucking bit. What I cared about was Jameson finishing what he started.
“I swear to god Jameson!” I whisper-shouted, “If you don’t fuck me right now...I will never have sex with you again.”
He chuckled looking up through his dark lashes. “Don’t threaten me.” His eyes grew solemn. “You and I both know that wouldn’t happen.”
“Don’t test me.”
“You know, I don’t think you’re in the position to be threatening me.” His eyes shifted to my hands. “You are in fact handcuffed to a chair and I have the only key.”
Why you dirty fucking heathen!
I knew what to do to get him. After all, I am a woman. Naturally, we have a built in defense mechanism for when a situation isn’t going our way.
We cry.
So I cried. Big crocodile tears with my puppy dog eyes. “Please Jameson...” the clanking of the handcuffs as I pleaded caught his stare and he weakened just like I knew he would. For a deal sealer, I raced to add, “I need you!”
He ripped the handcuffs off the next second, dropped his pants and had me bent over his desk instantly.
In forty six seconds exactly, I was clenching, screaming and quivering against his dark cherry wood desk.
With the funbags dangling over his laptop, his hands grasped firmly around my hips as he let out a groan and a few words I couldn’t distinguish.
He fell forward against my back. “I’m weak.”
“Yes you are. I won again.”
“Only because you used tears,”
“I have to use any advantage I can when Jameson Riley is my boyfriend.”
I felt him chuckle against me, his lips dancing along my shoulder blades. The rhythm of our hearts slowed into relaxation.
