Racing Hearts

by Davida Lynn

  Her hands grasping at the sheets, Heather writhed as Chance drew closer to her knee. He was taking his fucking time, driving her absolutely crazy as he did. Heather held her breath, feeling his finger ever so slightly drawing over the sensitive skin on the back of her knee. His climb up her leg continued.

  The light from the hallway poured into the bedroom, but it wasn’t enough for Heather. Using every bit of mental strength she had, Heather reached over and turned on a soft reading lamp on her bedside table. The expression on Chance’s face was one she’d remember for the rest of her life. It was a twisted mixture of power, hunger, and greed. She loved it.

  Heather was about to say something very sexy, but before the words could leave her mouth, she saw Chance’s tongue slide down to her thigh. Her head fell back into the bed in pleasure. She shook and felt Chance’s grip on her leg grow stronger. He was getting closer…

  She spread her free leg as he inched up. Heather didn’t want a single thing standing between Chance and…her pleasure.

  Heather didn’t know if she could take the torture much longer. If he slowed down any more, she would hike up the dress herself and get to work. For a second, she considered doing it. That might show him just how bold she could be. Instead, Heather tried to relax, because if he was as good as she hoped, the two of them would be in for a long night.

  His hand found the hem of her dress. Another powerful shiver took Heather over. She was dying for his touch, and Chance was making her wait.

  “Please. God, it’s like you are trying to drive me absolutely insane.” Her voice sounded weak. She gave him what he wanted, the feminine surrender. Heather just hoped it would be worth it.

  Chance smiled at her, leg still in his hand. His lips glistened from the kisses he had been planting on her leg. He was halfway up her thigh; close, but still so far. “What?”

  “The foreplay has been going on since the second pitcher of beer. I need you to get to work.”

  “And what if I’m a leg man?”

  Heather whined, “They’ll still be there in the morning, I promise.” Heather wrapped one leg around Chance. “See?”

  He let Heather pull him against her. She could feel the thick hardness just beneath his jeans. Chance pulled her dress up over her hips, his eyes drawn to that sacred spot between her legs. Heather’s heart stopped for a split second.

  His hands slid up her thighs to her hips, brushing over her panties as he did. She twitched, yearning to be touched more than ever. Chance’s fingers dug into her hips as he pulled Heather to the edge of the bed.

  Heather gathered the strength to pull herself upright. Her hands fought with Chance’s jeans, but she managed to get the belt undone and the fly down. He pulled her back to his lips, and as they kissed, Heather yanked Chance’s jeans down his legs.

  Kicking them off, Chance climbed into bed over Heather. “You’re fucking gorgeous, you know that?”

  She looked away, embarrassed for no real reason. Heather didn’t hear things like that often, and it made her blush.

  Chance leaned down, his hand sliding behind her to the zipper of the dress. It loosened its grip, Heather’s breasts set free. She pulled one arm from the dress, then the other. Chance drank in her body as she slid it down her body, where it fell to the floor with the rest of Chance’s clothes.

  “Quit looking at me like that.” She said as she gave him a playful shove.

  “Like what?”

  “Like you’re about to die.”

  He laughed. “I just might. It’s a hell of a way to go, let me tell you.”

  She kissed him, half out of desire, half to make sure he didn’t say anything else to make her feel so girlish and shy. She closed her eyes and felt his fingers slip between her legs. Chance ran his fingers down her slit, making Heather buck forward.

  The touch that she had craved was almost too much. All of the kissing and fantasizing about kissing had Heather halfway to one of those exhausting orgasms that she lusted after.

  Chance’s fingers found the entrance to her womanhood, and Heather shifted her hips to help him slide inside easier. As he did, she worked her hands down his body. He wasn’t pumped up like a football player, but every muscle on his body was toned and defined. He looked more like a marble statue than a jacked athlete.

  She wrapped her fingers around his manhood, loving the warm throb that emanated. As Chance stretched Heather, she began to stroke his cock. The tip was wet, eager for action. She loved it. She loved the look on his face and the sounds he made.

  Curling his fingers inside of her, Chance found her g-spot. Heather sucked in a sharp breath just as Chance filled her mouth with his tongue.

  He began to slide in and out, matching time with her strokes. As they stimulated each other, their eyes were locked, staring deep into their souls. Heather felt the pressure building.

  “My clit. Press against my clit.” She spoke with eyes closed, never confident enough to tell her partners what she needed so soon. There was something about Chance that she felt comfortable with. He wanted to please her, and she wanted it, too.

  He did as she asked. Dragging his fingers between her folds, he rose up to her clit, using two fingers to circle it and press against it. As he began to work Heather closer and closer, she tried hard to hold off. Her orgasm was coming hard and fast, maybe too fast. There was no stopping it. Heather thrust her hips up to add to the pressure. The motion was perfect, and she felt her muscles tighten.

  Her eyes went wide, and her back arched. A silent scream poured from her open mouth as the orgasm took over her body. Heather had no control as Chance pressed her hips down into the bed. She thrashed from the carnal release, finally letting out a high-pitched but quiet cry of ultimate pleasure.

  Heather saw stars floating around in Chance’s eyes. His skin seemed to glow, and the smile on his face made her orgasm soar to new heights. She loved how into her he was. It was refreshing and freeing.

  Her head fell back into the sheets, and Chance kissed his way up to her neck. A sudden worry about a hickey flashed into her mind, taking her all the way back to high school when those problems first arose. She started giggling.

  “You ok?”

  She nodded. “Clearly, but we’re not done here, mister.”

  Chance spread Heather’s legs. “You know, I was hoping you’d say that.”

  She felt him at her entrance. His thick cock pressed ever so slightly against her, teasing her with the promise of feeling full. Their eyes met, and as Chance leaned down to join lips with Heather, he thrust inside.

  Her legs clamped down around him, indulging in the feeling of satisfaction. Heather cried out, the scream muffled by Chance’s kiss. His body was slamming against hers, rattling the bed against the wall behind them. Heather’s body was his, given over in a trade for pure pleasure.

  She barely managed to get the words out. “Oh my god, yes. Give it to me.”

  Heather arched her back, meeting Chance’s thrusts. He felt incredible, lifting her to a new level of bliss that she didn’t know was possible. His body fit perfectly with hers, like two paintings that meant little apart, but looked stunning when placed next to each other.

  Chance’s tongue was at Heather’s neck, flicking and sending pulsing sensations down her spine. Heather reached around and dug her nails into his back. His reaction was to ramp up his speed and groan his approval.

  When Chance flipped Heather over, she barely registered what happened, but in one fluid motion, she was on top, bucking her hips back and forth against him like a wild cowgirl.

  Heather rode Chance like he was the Pony Express, her hands pressing down on his chiseled chest as she did. He was one hell of a man, and she had a perfect view of him below.

  The plateau of pleasure was swelling inside of her, and Heather knew a second orgasm was coming shortly.

  “I hope you’re getting close, because it would be a shame to waste my orgasm.” Heather leaned down and nibbled on Chance’s ear. He groaned back a response
and grabbed onto her hips.

  With strength she didn’t know he had, Chance began to thrust upwards, pounding into her with all of the manliness he possessed. She cried out in agonizing pleasure, the orgasm inching ever closer.

  She could hear Chance’s breaths. They were shallow and rapid. He was almost there. Throwing her hair back as she sat up, Heather reached down and dragged her nails down Chance’s chest. His eyes rolled into the back of his head, then she saw his stomach muscles tighten.

  The mutual orgasm swirled around her as her center clenched down around him. She felt so tight, and he felt gigantic as the two lovers came simultaneously.

  Unable to stay upright, Heather collapsed forward onto Chance’s gasping chest. Not only could she hear his heart beating, but Heather could feel it pounding. Her mouth was dry, and the tingling in her fingers made her burst into a fit of giggles again.

  The two laid together, recovering and rejoicing in the magic shared between them.

  Heather was going to say something sweet, but when she raised her head, she saw Chance’s eyes closed. He was beginning to quietly snore.

  “You look like hell.” The rotund team owner chuckled as Chance pulled his dirty All-American team shirt on.

  Chance just shook his head. No matter the ribbing, the smile on his face wasn’t going anywhere. They had one hell of week before them, but nothing could diminish his spirits. Waking up with Heather dreaming away on his chest rivaled any victory he’d ever taken behind the wheel of a car.

  To get back behind the wheel, though, Chance had to work alongside the rest of the crew. Though the damage wasn’t bad, the whole drivetrain had to be broken down to look for any minute imperfections. Modern race cars were designed to break apart to dissipate energy. The more damage the car took, the less that the driver endured. That meant energy tearing through the whole car, even if the impact was only at the front.

  Even DJ had on a stained, tattered old shirt. He was tearing down a somewhat damaged front wing that was set-up for road courses, where downforce was pivotal. He was pulling the individual winglets off to be replaced by the low-downforce oval set-up.

  Chance could see that even though things were looking dire, DJ was happier with a tool in his hand than sitting in front of a computer. Fifty years ago, he raced at this very track with a car built in a barn. A far cry from the multi-million dollar teams that dominated the championships these days.

  As they worked, the fast nine had their qualifying shoot out. The TV on the wall showed each driver out for his four laps to glory.

  Frank caught Chance staring as one of the perennial favorites posted a time in the mid-two-twenty-fives. “Shoulda been us out there today.”

  The words squeezed at Chance’s heart, but he knew Frank didn’t mean anything by it. They failed as a team, and they succeeded as a team. “We’ll show them all, Frank. We’ll show them all.”

  A voice outside the garage turned Chance’s attention away from the TV. “Heard you boys were on the hunt for a master cylinder.”

  “You heard right.” Chance wiped his hands on a rag and headed over to greet the crew member. An older man that probably came out every year for the race, the man had a goatee and more than his fair share of wrinkles. He was with Team Kenzie, and Chance had seen him a few times over the weekend, but he didn’t know the man’s name.

  Extending a hand, Chance smiled. “What’s it gonna cost us?”

  The man looked around before shaking Chance’s hand. “Don’t cost you nothing. If Jack finds out, though, it’ll cost me my job.”

  The man handed Chance the critical component for the braking system.

  Furrowing his brow, Chance said, “Woah, we’re not looking to get into any sort of corporate espionage. We’ll be glad to pay for it.”

  “Nah.” The man smiled, some of the years on his cracked and aged face vanishing. “DJ gave me my start, and I owe him just about everything I’ve got in life. He’s one of the few people here that is driven by pure racing. Not money not sponsorships, not championships. Hell, not even winning. He just loves racing, and there’s no way in hell I’ll see only thirty-two cars start this race. That, and Jack Savage is a whiny little twat.”

  The man turned to leave, and Chance called out. “Thanks. Really, you’re saving our asses.” He laid the part next to Kiwi, who was once again piecing out the gearbox.

  “I just suppose you want me to get this ready, too, don’t you?” Kiwi shot Chance a look.

  “You got anything better to do? Hot date that we don’t know about?”

  DJ spoke through the cigar in his mouth. “Look who’s talking. I saw you pulling in this morning. Who was the young lady?”

  Chance didn’t feel like talking about Heather. He was at work, and his job was stressful enough without his personal life getting dragged into things. “Making a few extra bucks with Uber. Gotta earn a living, right DJ?”

  The old man stared Chance down, maybe looking for a crack in the flimsy story. Chance did his best to keep a straight face. Finally, the staring contest broke, and DJ said, “Gotta earn a living.”

  Chance and Heather sat on a weatherbeaten picnic bench behind one of the many food service buildings where caterers prepared meals. It was an employees only area, and one of the few refuges from the hoards of people at the track.

  “I don’t know how you are getting through this day without like a gallon of coffee.” Heather drained the last of her third cup of the black stuff.

  With a shrug, Chance said, “I think the negatives outweigh the positives. The dehydration is bad, especially on race day. I guess I never got a taste for it.”

  “Makes me sound like an addict.”

  “There are far worse things to be hooked on. I’m not terribly concerned.” Chance leaned against Heather, feeling that electric pull that he knew was already growing strong. Their night had been fun, flirty, and filled with the best sex of his life. After the stress he’d endured since arriving at the racetrack without a drive, a night of good, old-fashioned fun was just what the doctor ordered.

  “Can I see the car?”

  Heather’s question came out of nowhere, and it put Chance in an awkward spot. He wanted to show her. He wanted to introduce her to his team, but the timing was bad. They were working their asses off to get the car back together after the crash. The crash that Chance knew was his own fault. He had been distracted and eager to show off. No one knew that but him, but the second that DJ saw him with Heather, the wise old owl would know.

  With all the tact available to him, Chance shrugged. “There’s not much to see at the moment. We’re having to break it down to next to nothing, and since we lost our sponsor, the car doesn’t even have a paint job. Give it a few days. Sound good?”

  “Yeah, alright.”

  Chance tried to search for something in Heather’s voice, but he couldn’t figure her out. Things between them were already tricky enough between their schedules and their jobs. Were they co-workers? Technically not, but they both worked in the same place. Chance knew that it wouldn’t be good if anyone figured out what was going on. His team wouldn’t be happy, the race officials certainly wouldn’t, either.

  Heather stood up. “Ok, I’m back to guard duty. What time do you think you’ll be done tonight? That is, if you wanted to get together. If not, I understand…”

  She pulled at his heartstrings so easily. Chance stood and pulled her close, damning the consequences. “Of course I want to see you. My guess? We’ll probably call it a night around ten. If everything goes according to plan, Annabelle should be ready to start up tomorrow morning.”

  “I’ll never understand the naming thing.” She smiled and shook her head.

  “Drivers need to be close to the cars. What better way to be close than to name them?”

  “But Annabelle?”

  He laughed. “Billy named her. Maybe it’s some unrequited love from middle school. Alright, back to work with you. I’ll call as soon as I’m free.” Chance pulled Hea
ther against him, loving that feeling of her rising up on her toes to kiss him. He tasted the coffee on her lips and wondered if he was hooked on her the way she was hooked on the bean.

  Heather was all smiles as she headed back to her post. The sunny day was perfect, and she felt as light as a leaf in a breeze. The night with Chance had been nothing short of magical, and her body was reminding her of it every second. She ached with sore muscles and a few bruises to go along with them. Each little hint of pain had been worth it.

  Even the crowds and screaming engines couldn’t dampen her spirits. She wasn’t kidding herself, though. She knew there were many unanswered questions between her and Chance. The biggest one was downright scary. What happens after the race? Heather tried to put the question out of mind, but it wouldn’t budge.

  Things with Chance were great, despite the issues. He was fun, kind, and most importantly, he made Heather feel safe. She didn’t know if that had ever existed with a partner before.

  Any momentary happiness was cast aside when she saw Rob heading her way. Her heart rate shot through the roof, and sweat formed on her brow in an instant. There was nowhere Heather could hide, and she feared for the worst. He saw her, and the grin on his face was like falling into ice cold water.

  There were people around, but Heather didn’t see Murphy around. Her supervisor usually wandered up and down pit lane checking on all the different yellow-shirts at each gate. Hell, he might be at lunch.

  The back of her feet hit the concrete wall as she moved away from him. His smile was unmoving.

  “Heather. How are you?”

  Her voice quivered. “I’m ok. What are you doing here, Rob? We talked about this.”

  “I know we did. I know.” He looked around, maybe to see if anyone was close enough to hear them. “Just wanted to come by and tell you that I saw you and your stick jockey.”

  “Rob…”

  He raised a hand, and for a second, Heather thought he would hit her. She flinched.