Priest (A Standalone Bad Boy Romance Love Story)

by Claire Adams

  The engines are deafening and the cars lurch forward at infrequent intervals, but always rock back more or less to their place. The woman standing in front and between the cars raises both hands above her head and, with an exaggerated gesture, drops them.

  Both cars are off faster than I expected. They’re already most of the way down the block and past the intersection, their brake lights only coming on when they’re a long way in the distance.

  “Who do you think won?” I ask Eli. I couldn’t tell; it looked pretty close to me.

  “Hold on,” Eli says. “Nobody’s lining up after them. See that guy on his cell phone? We’ve got to go.”

  “What are you talking about?” I ask. “Everyone I’ve ever met who isn’t me has a cell phone.”

  “Come on, cops are coming,” he says.

  I don’t hear anything or see anything, but everyone on the street is starting back toward their cars, slowly at first and then we’re all running.

  Eli’s got me by the hand to pull me through the crowd. We get to the car, but almost bowl over a few people getting over to it. I start for the passenger’s side, but Eli just says, “Nope,” and pulls me toward his side.

  He throws open the door and I jump in. He’s in half a second later, and he turns the keyless ignition, The cars ahead of us are already gone.

  Eli throws the car into gear and we’re peeling out, turning sharply to the left with just enough space to miss the curb when I see the first blue and red lights coming down the road toward us.

  Eli takes a right and then a left on the next street.

  “Still want me to tell you what’s going on or do you just want to focus on getting out of here?” I get the sense that he’d rather I do the latter.

  “Let’s just go,” I tell him. “We can talk about the rest later.”

  We’re going down this street for a while, fast, but when we get to the next stop sign, Eli comes to a complete stop.

  “There’s an old strip mall around here,” Eli says. “I can never remember which turn it is, though.”

  “Shouldn’t we be going?”

  “I’m pretty sure it’s a left,” he says and I’m stomping the floor with my right foot, trying to make the car go with the pure force of my will.

  He eases the Galaxie onto the road and he’s looking in his mirrors, saying, “I think we’ve lost them, but we should lay low for a minute. Everyone’s got their mark and we got out of there before a cop picked us as his project for the night. They should be out of the area before too long.”

  It makes sense, what he’s saying, it really does. Still, there are cops and we were running from them and now, I can still hear the sirens in a few different directions as we follow the speed limit, using the turn signals.

  We’re going along at about twenty five when Eli jerks the wheel hard to the left and I’m all but sitting in his lap.

  “Sorry,” he says. “We’re here, though.”

  We pull around behind the strip mall and there’s a little alley running for about fifty feet before a gate opening out onto the next street. Eli pulls the car a way down the alley and turns it off, putting a finger to his lips.

  It’s dark without the headlights on, but the stars are out in force, providing an unmatched ceiling to the corridor between the buildings.

  He slowly lowers his finger from his lip.

  “Are we all right?” I ask in a whisper.

  “I think so.”

  I’m nervous enough to keep quiet, but relief is starting to flow through me, turning my fear into excitement as we actually outran the cops in this piece of junk car. They weren’t really chasing us specifically, I guess, but it’s still cause for excitement.

  “So,” Eli says, his voice still low, “you never really answered my question back there.”

  “Which question?”

  “Why this, why street racing?”

  I shrug. “I don’t know,” I tell him. “Why not?”

  “There are a lot of reasons why not to do this,” he says. “There aren’t nearly as many for it.”

  “I don’t know,” I tell him. “It just struck something in me when Mick was talking about it. Even though he was lying there in a hospital bed, knowing that you do this—it just caught me by surprise, at first. Then, I don’t know, I just kept coming back to the thought. The more I did, the more I wanted to see it, to feel it, you know?”

  “Yeah,” he says. “I know what you mean. Do you understand why I’m showing you this—not just the race, but the stuff with the cops, too?”

  “Yeah,” I tell him. “It’s not a joke. One wrong move and you’ll end up in a tree with Mick.”

  Eli cracks a smile and chuckles softly. “There’s another thing, too,” he says.

  “What’s that?” I ask, resting my arm on the top of the seat, resting my head against that hand and looking at him.

  “It’s not just about the cops. They’re not all just out to get us or anything. People die doing this. If you’re not careful, you can hit someone else’s car, or worse, you could hit a person. As long as you’re in the car and the car’s moving, you’ve just become the most responsible driver on the road because you’re easily the most reckless. The chances of something going wrong with a racer are a lot higher than anyone else on the road. Except drunk drivers: those guys are just assholes because they’re all risk, no responsibility.”

  “So it’s not just a hobby, it’s a philosophy,” I observe.

  He suppresses a smile and, in the nicest way I think he can manage, says, “Well, the philosophy is ‘don’t hit anybody, don’t hurt anybody, don’t kill anybody,’ so I don’t know if it’s all that involved. You just need to be aware that people aren’t going to know how to react to you, so you’re going to have to learn to anticipate-”

  I interrupt him with a firm kiss on the lips, and it’s only mostly to shut him up. I’m interested in racing because it’s dangerous, exciting—just like Eli.

  If I can just get out of this stupid shell I’ve been hiding in most of my life, I know that I can be one of those people who don’t have to walk around with their heads down, saying sorry for every little thing, even when it’s not their fault. Somewhere in me is one of those people that sees what she wants and isn’t afraid to take it.

  Eli’s kissing me back, and his hands move around my sides to my back, his fingers pulling me toward him, only I run shoulder first into the oversized steering wheel.

  I pull back, laughing and rubbing my arm.

  “You know,” he says. “There’s a big backseat.”

  Am I really doing this?

  Yeah, I’m really doing this.

  “All right,” I respond and, without further ado, I climb over the seat into the back.

  I’m getting settled as Eli joins me. He’s on top of me now, and I’m stroking the back of his head as he kisses me. I don’t know how long it’s going to be safe to stay here, but if I have my way, we’re going to be here for a while.

  He’s tugging at the bottom of my shirt and I lean up a bit so he can pull it the rest of the way off, the cool air electrifying my bare skin. He pulls his own shirt off, and I’m running my fingertips up his muscular sides. It seems all that work in the shop is doing some great things for him.

  Eli wraps his strong arms around me, unclasping my bra with one hand. I pull it from my shoulders and off of my arms, more than a little nervous about being this exposed, this vulnerable.

  As if offering his acceptance, Eli kisses my breasts and the heat coming through his kisses sets my blood aflame.

  My hands work at undoing his top button, but I don’t have the best angle to work with, so Eli finishes the job.

  I slide his pants down with my feet, and I can see the thick, throbbing proof of his aspiration pressing against the fabric of his dark boxers.

  He’s undoing my pants as I run my palm over the fabric covering his somewhat intimidating manhood.

  I lift my hips as he pulls my pants down, and his fingers
catch my panties, too, leaving me completely bare beneath him. He straightens his legs a little as I coax the boxers from his hips.

  The seat beneath me is surprisingly comfortable. I imagine the lack of long cracks in the upholstery back here helps.

  Naked together now, Eli kisses me on the mouth before running his lips in tiny kisses over my collarbone, between my breasts, down past my navel, all the way down to my center.

  His fingers tease my core as his mouth settles over my clit.

  I’m slick, eager as he slides a finger inside me, tilting his head a little so his tongue is not long out of contact with my bud.

  My own hand is over my mouth as he curls his finger toward the front of me, massaging my g-spot with a soft, but direct touch.

  His mouth and fingers tease and gratify as he explores my pussy, and I’m trying to keep my moans under eighty decibels, but it’s not easy.

  Somewhere in the distance, I can hear a siren, and I don’t know if they’re the ones that are going to find us or if we’ll make it out scot-free, but there is nowhere else I want to be right now.

  I run my fingers through Eli’s dark hair, and my hips are going on their own now.

  “I need you to do something,” I breathe.

  He lifts his head a little to look at me.

  “There are condoms in my purse,” I tell him. “Would you mind grabbing them?”

  He nods and leans over the front seat, comically displaying his seriously tight butt.

  I smile and give him a light spank as he grabs the purse and pulls out a condom.

  “Here,” I say, holding out my hand and he hands it to me.

  He’s facing me as I open the package and remove the contraceptive from inside.

  With my free hand, I wrap my fingers around Eli’s firm cock, putting the condom in place on his tip and rolling it down all the way.

  I can hardly breathe. My chest is burning with adrenaline as he looks down at me.

  He moves between my legs, teasing my opening with his tip, and my hand is resting on the back of his neck as he slowly pushes inside me.

  A new sense of desire overtakes me as he gradually works himself all the way into me, and he’s bending down, kissing me, his chest heaving with heavy breaths.

  The siren in the distance sounds like it’s getting closer, but it’s impossible to tell if they’re headed in this direction or if they’ll miss us entirely.

  I feel hot, my blood boiling in my veins.

  Eli’s surprisingly gentle and receptive, though his hands are firm, his motion eager.

  He’s kissing the curve of my neck, and my arms and legs are wrapped tightly around him as I delight in the feel of his muscles flexing and releasing all across his back.

  The siren is getting close now, but I’m not ready to go.

  I don’t want to get caught; I just don’t want this to end.

  Eli moves faster now, the intensity of this feeling overfilling my senses to the point I don’t know if I’m about to come or if I already have.

  As I begin to feel that rise throughout my body, I have my answer.

  “Kiss me,” I tell him. “I don’t think I’m going to be able to…”

  The dam breaks and Eli’s lips are over mine, muffling the sound of my ecstasy.

  My whole body quakes, and I’m gripping him tight as endorphins wash over and through me, skin sweating, my mouth on his.

  The siren is almost deafening now, but Eli doesn’t stop until my climax begins to fade.

  “Someone must have spotted us back here,” he says in a whisper, still inside me.

  “What do we do?”

  “Stay low,” he says, slowly pulling out of me. “I’m going to try to get us out of here, just don’t lift your head above the level of the windows.”

  Fine by me: I couldn’t move right now if I wanted to.

  The siren goes past on a nearby street and Eli slips his boxers and his shirt on, but before climbing into the front seat, he gives me a long, sweet kiss, saying, “To be continued?”

  I nod, a wide grin crossing my face.

  He gets into the front seat and turns the car on, the constant rumble of the engine a pleasant massage against my bare skin.

  I lie here, naked and only casually covering myself as he hits the gas.

  Chapter Six

  Of Jax and Jill

  Eli

  “I can’t believe you talked me into this,” I tell Mick as I run through my last minute check on the Chevelle.

  The first race of Jax’s tournament is tonight and Tree Bait here wouldn’t shut up until I followed the directions on the back of Jax’s card and put up the $2,500 entry fee with a man named Charles at the OTB. He’s just a middle man, though. The fewer people who know about this, the better.

  “Come on, man,” Mick says. “One of us wins the thing and we split the money. Either way, we both come up six figures ahead.”

  Tonight, there are sixteen races going on at the same time in different parts of the county. My first race is going to be here in town.

  Mick’s is elsewhere. That’s good. That means he might make it to the second round.

  “You mean, if I win the tournament, I can very generously give you $125,000, is that about right?” I ask.

  “Pretty much,” he says. “I’d do it for you.”

  I do believe that. Growing up the way I did, if I hadn’t met Mick, I’d probably be on the street.

  “Yeah, whatever,” I tell him. “You’re fine with me taking the flatbed even though my race is closer?”

  “Yeah,” Mick scoffs. “Mine’s farther, but my car still looks street legal. Yours on the other hand—by the way, why’d you paint the thing purple?”

  “Got bored with the classic colors,” I tell him. “You should probably get going, though. I doubt they’re going to push start time back for you.”

  “Yeah,” Mick says. “Kick some ass and then meet back here to talk about how we kicked some ass?”

  “Sure,” I tell him. “Kate’s going to be with me. She’s coming tonight.”

  “That’s a shame,” Mick says. “It’ll break the poor girl’s heart when she sees you come in last.”

  “Hasn’t your whole pitch been that the two of us are unbeatable and we’ve got this money locked up?”

  Mick shrugs. “Generosity comes and goes, man,” he says. “Later.”

  He jogs out of the shop and through the office.

  I’m just about done with the prep on the Chevelle. I’ve got just enough gas in the tank for the race and maybe a little light cop-dodging. Every ounce can make a difference.

  My phone’s ringing, but my hands are covered in grease.

  Leaving the hood up, I walk over to the wash basin and clean my hands. The phone’s already stopped ringing, but I can call whoever it was back.

  I’m just drying my hands when I hear a knock on one of the closed bay doors.

  On my way over, I pick up my phone. I don’t recognize the number.

  The knock comes again and some distant part of my mind is telling me not to open it. Maybe it’s Jax, here to hobble one of his racers. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s done something like that—if the stories are to be believed, anyway.

  Ours isn’t a big town, but Jax’s fabled empire reaches a lot farther than just here.

  He used to be a racer back in the day, Jax. It was before my time, but the story goes that he raced two or three times a night for a year straight, winning everything along the way. That’s how he funded his way to becoming the head of any number of criminal organizations—which ones change depending on who you ask.

  That’s where the story first started to unravel for me. I’ve seen better drivers than me in better cars than I have get beaten by the greenest noob on the block.

  Though, it’s starting to look like the stories may actually be true.

  I open the bay door and Kate ducks in before I close it again.

  “Are you ready for tonight?” she asks.


  I shrug, saying, “I guess we’re going to find out.”

  She turns her head a little to the side and narrows her eyes at me. “I was expecting a lot more bravado.”

  “Oh, I’m definitely going to win,” I tell her. “I’m just not thrilled about being involved with anything that guy’s a part of.”

  “There’s that cockiness that I put up with,” she says and kisses me on the lips. “Where is it?”

  “I don’t know yet. When I dropped off my entry fee or whatever, I was given a general area. Mick’s is outside town a ways, mine is inside town.”

  “I hope it was a little bit more specific than that,” she says.

  “Mine wasn’t,” I tell her. “Mick’s just gave him the address of a hotel. Apparently, it’s going to be somewhere around there.”

  “Am I going to be able to see much of it?”

  “I really don’t know,” I tell her. “I know it’s not going to be a drag race, but that’s about all I know. I’ve just got to load the Chevelle onto the flatbed and I’m ready to go.”

  “All right,” she says. “By the way, who was calling you just before I walked up?”

  “I don’t know. I was elbow-deep under the hood when the call came in, so I missed it. I didn’t recognize the number.”

  “You should probably put it in your phone,” she observes, pulling a cheap, burner phone out of her purse and holding it up.

  “Look at you joining the modern world,” I tell her.

  She smiles. “Exciting, huh? So, are we going or…”

  “Yeah,” I answer and we walk into the office.

  I grab the keys to Maye’s flatbed and we go back out to the shop where I open the bay door in front of the Chevelle.

  Kate’s nice enough to spot for me while I get the flatbed in place, and she covers her ears when I fire up the Chevelle and pull it onto the back of the trailer. Removing the metal ramps and securing them beneath the car, I tell Kate to hop in the flatbed. I climb in after her, settling behind the wheel.

  “What now?” she asks.

  “Now,” I tell her, “we wait for the phone call.”

  While we’re sitting in the cab of the flatbed, we talk. Kate asks more about Jax, and I tell her what I can.