Faster Dirtier (Take Me...#5) (A Team Ferrelli Novel)

by Colleen Masters

  “I’m sure I do,” Bex mutters, digging through the heap of garment bags splayed across my bed. “Aha! Here we go,” he exclaims, carefully excavating a floor-length gown from the pile. My eyes go wide as they alight on the garment.

  “That’s gorgeous,” I murmur, as afternoon sunlight glances off the fine golden beading on the neckline of the strapless, deep green dress. “Do you think I can pull it off?”

  “Only one way to find out,” Bex smiles, handing the gown to me.

  Holding the piece reverently to my chest, I hurry into the bathroom to try it on. My pulse starts to race as I shrug out of my robe and slip into the elegant emerald gown. The light, silky fabric caresses my skin, fitting itself to my every curve. I’ve never worn anything half as elegant as this dress. Hell, I didn’t even go to my senior prom (I had a race in another state the next morning), so this whole glamor thing is pretty unprecedented. I run the zipper of the dress up my side and smile when I find that it fits me like a glove.

  “Let us see, let us see!” Bex cries from the other room.

  Walking as daintily as I can—which is still not very—I make my way back into the bedroom. The second I appear in the doorway, Siena and Bex go dead silent.

  “Is it...OK?” I ask, looking back and forth between them.

  “It’s...perfect,” Siena breathes, staring at me in wonder.

  “Just wait until we get you into hair and makeup!” Bex gushes.

  “I have to admit, when I agreed to come be a driver for Ferrelli...I wasn’t expecting anything this fancy,” I tell them. “I don’t have much practice doing the whole...girly thing.”

  “That’s even better,” Siena tells me. “You don’t have to pretend to be anyone you’re not, Ainsley. Hell, that’s why the world is going to fall in love with you. You’re real.”

  “Just like that killer rack of yours,” Bex grins, eyeing my chest.

  “Good lord, Bex,” Siena groans, giving her friend a playful shove. “You’re gonna give the girl a complex.”

  “I’m just speaking the truth,” Bex shoots back. “We’ve got a grade-A babe on our hands.”

  “Well, I don’t know about you guys, but this grade-A babe is gonna pass out if she doesn’t get her hands on a sandwich soon. I’m starved,” I tell them.

  “A girl after my own heart,” Siena smiles. “Lunchtime it is.”

  We take a break from dressing up and debriefing about strategy to whip up an easy lunch. Cheese, fruit, and some excellent Italian bread hit the spot, not to mention a delicious glass of white wine. I could certainly get used to this lifestyle, that’s for sure. And if all goes according to plan, it seems like I’ll get the chance to.

  After a bit more chatting and planning, Bex and Siena head back to the main house to get the party all set up. I decide to soak up a bit of alone time before setting off to meet a whole new slew of people tonight. It’s already early evening as I pad back up to my bedroom, brushing my fingers along the length of the emerald green gown that hangs in my otherwise barren closet.

  Wrapping my arms around my waist, I step out onto the balcony. The pool area is deserted now, as everyone prepares for the party. Strands of string lights hang suspended over the terrace, reflected in the crystal clear water. A live band and DJ are booked for tonight’s festivities, and a team of caterers and bartenders are on hand to make sure everyone eats—and imbibes—to their hearts’ content.

  My nerves crackle with anticipation. I’m so excited to meet the rest of the team. Well, excited and incredibly nervous. Siena and Bex are the only people I’ll know at the party—unless you count Alfie. What if everyone just thinks I’m a strange little American girl and wants nothing to do with me?

  “Well, too bad,” I mutter aloud. “Because I’m here now. And I intend to stay.”

  I’m just about to head back inside when a flash of movement catches my eye in a window on the second story of the villa. I train my gaze forward and feel my heart slam against my ribcage. There, framed in a window right across the terrace, is Enzo Lazio in the flesh once again. Emphasis on flesh. Through the parted curtains, I watch him stride into view, wearing nothing but a tiny bath towel around his waist. I know that I have no right to stare at him, to invade his privacy like this, but I can’t for the life of me tear my eyes away.

  His razor sharp jaw line is far more visible, now—sheared of the scruffy beard that he sported earlier today. Only a bit of sexy stubble remains, my favorite look on a man. And his jet black hair has been given a trim, too. Guess Bex decided that the mountain man look was bad for PR. I have to say, I approve of the change. His hard, brooding features stand out in sharp relief now, unobscured. But as gorgeous as his face happens to be, it’s the rest of him that has my heart doing backflips at the moment. As I look on, mesmerized, he shoves a hand through his short black hair, and the loose knot holding the bath towel in place comes loose.

  I feel my mouth fall open as Enzo’s body is revealed to me in its entirety. For the moment, he’s turned away from me, his rock hard ass on full display in all its glory. My fingers twitch with wanting to grab a hold of those firm cheeks, pull him hard against me. And that’s even before he pivots to face me, and I finally get a glimpse of that singular, breathtaking length between his legs.

  “Ho-ly shit,” I breathe, steadying myself against the railing of the balcony. I haven’t seen that many cocks in my time, but Enzo’s is by far the finest. It’s a thing of beauty—long and shapely, downright delicious...

  Delicious? What the hell am I thinking? With great effort, I manage to drag my eyes back to Enzo’s face, and good thing too. Because just as I tear my eyes away from his beautiful manhood, he turns to face my way. I all but dive back into my bedroom, hoping that he didn’t see me gaping at him across the way. How would that be for a first introduction? But as I peer out from my hiding space, he doesn’t seem at all perturbed. Whew. Dodged that bullet.

  I’m released from the spell of Enzo’s gorgeous form as he tugs the curtains shut at last. I lean back against my bedroom wall, willing my heart to be still. I’ve never been so attracted to a man before in my life, never felt my body respond so suddenly to someone else’s. Is this really just an amped up crush, or something much more?

  One thing’s for sure. If I don’t take care of myself before this party kicks off, I’m not going to be able to put two words together. My sex is aching, crying out for some TLC. And with the image of Enzo’s delectable cock fresh in my mind’s eye, I’m more than willing to devote an hour to some serious self-love.

  Chapter Seven

  A couple of hours before the party is set to begin, I find myself in the hands of a duo of glamor experts once again. Only this time, it isn’t Bex and Siena who show up at my door to take me from tomboy to knockout. It’s my own personal hair and makeup team, ready to complete my look for the evening. They all but bowl me over as they charge into the guesthouse, eager to get down to business.

  “Why hello, gorgeous,” says the hair stylist, a man about my height with a wide smile, spiky platinum hair, and bright red suspenders.

  “Ready to get started?” asks the makeup artist, a toweringly tall, raven-haired, rail-thin woman who gives me an air kiss on either cheek.

  “H-hey!” I sputter, awkwardly returning her very European greeting. Or trying to, anyway. I probably look like a startled chicken compared to her. “Come on in. I just stepped out of the bath.”

  I treated myself to a good long soak in the tub, rubbing out orgasm after orgasm as I held the image of Enzo’s amazing body in my mind’s eye. But they don’t need to know that part, now do they?

  “Great. We can dive right in,” the man says, straightening his blue and white polka dotted bow tie. “My name is Casper. I’m going to do amazing things to that hair of yours. This is my partner, Anneke.”

  “Oh! Are you guys together?” I ask, looking back and forth between the unlikely couple. They exchange a knowing look before bursting out into peals of laughter. I guess that
wasn’t what he meant by “partner”.

  “Casper is my dearest friend in the world,” Anneke tells me, “But I’m not exactly his type, I’m afraid.”

  “If only you’d been born with some extra hardware,” Casper sighs, wrapping an arm around Anneke’s teensy waist. “Those cheekbones on a man’s face? What I wouldn’t give...”

  “But enough about us,” Anneke says, planting a kiss on Casper’s forehead. “Let’s talk about you, Miss Vaughn!”

  “You can call me Ace, if you’d like,” I tell them. “All my friends do.”

  “Ace? Hello, gender nonconformity,” Casper says delightedly. “I love it.”

  “How do you usually like you makeup done, dear?” Anneke asks, looping a slender arm with mine.

  “Oh...I don’t usually wear makeup,” I tell her. She stares at me for a long moment, not comprehending. “I spend a lot of time with a helmet on my head,” I clarify, “Not much need for mascara, you know?”

  “A blank slate,” she murmurs, eyes wide, “How novel.”

  “What about your hair?” Casper asks, eyeing my damp locks.

  “Kinda the same story,” I shrug. “I just let it do whatever.” Casper and Anneke turn to gaze at each other, their eyes brimming with wonder. “What is it?” I ask nervously.

  “We’re just going to have so much fun with you,” Casper breathes excitedly. “Let’s get started. I can’t wait any longer.”

  The team herds me upstairs and sets to work at once. Their hands never stop moving for a second once they begin the long process. I’m tweezed, moisturized, toned, and primped. And those are just the preparatory steps. I can’t even identify most of the products they use to aid in my transformation. Sure, I’ll slap on some lipstick once in a while for special occasions, but I couldn’t tell you what “primer” or “dry shampoo” were if you paid me a million bucks. But something tells me that with these two, I can look forward the quite the beauty education.

  “OK. We are all set,” Casper says, giving my hair a final dusting of hair spray. “Slip into your dress, and don’t peek!”

  I follow his orders and dash into the bathroom, amazed by the weight of my volumized eyelashes. I can feel my hair bouncing lightly across my back as I step into the green gown once again. I’ve decided to do without a bra underneath, as the dress itself is fitted with built-in support. All I wear under the dress is a pair of my favorite black lace panties. I heard once that you should always put on your fanciest underwear when you want to feel confident, even if no one else is going to see it. And I need all the confidence I can get tonight.

  “Well? What do you guys think?” I ask, stepping back out into the bedroom.

  Casper lays his hands on his chest, looking for the world like he’s about to cry. Anneke just gazes at me rapturously, clearly pleased with her work.

  “It’s not about what we think, in the end,” she tells me, gesturing to the full length mirror. “It’s what you think.”

  I swallow hard and approach the mirror, surprised by how implausibly comfortable the shoes that Bex picked out happen to be. At last, I step in front of the glass, ready to gaze upon the “new me”. As I lock eyes with my reflection, it takes a long moment for the reality of what I’m looking at to hit me. It doesn’t sink in right away that that’s me, there, looking like a Hollywood starlet of the highest order. But as a wild grin spreads across my crimson lips, it can’t be denied. It’s me, all right.

  “Oh my god. Oh my god,” I murmur, running my hands down the sides of my dress, turning this way and that. “You two are miracle workers!”

  The gown looks just as good as it feels, perfectly conforming to my petite but curvy shape. The gold-tinted stilettos Bex picked out are an amazing complement to the beaded detail along the plunging neckline. My strawberry blonde hair hangs in effortless, tousled curls—or at least, they look effortless. I never knew my hair could be wrangled into anything fancier than a french braid. But lo and behold!

  My face is even more surprising than my reddish locks. Anneke’s brought out all of my favorite features. A cool, rosy blush accentuates my cheek bones, while a subtle smoky eye brings out the green flecks in my hazel eyes. I can even see my freckles front and center across the bridge of my nose. She’s managed to make me look like me, only glammed up. Part of me was worried that this makeover was going to leave me looking like a beauty pageant nightmare, but that’s not the case at all. I just look...beautiful.

  “You like?” Casper prompts me, as he and Anneke appear at my shoulders.

  “Like? Love, is more like it!” I laugh. “Are you two wizards or something?”

  “It wouldn’t take magic to make you look lovely, dear,” Anneke tells me, adjusting my dress just a hair. “Trust me on that.”

  “You’re going to stun them all,” Casper sighs happily, giving my hand a quick squeeze.

  “Are you two heading out already?” I ask, reluctant to part ways with them.

  “Don’t you worry. We’re going to be your beauty team for the every press event you do,” Anneke replies. “We’ll be seeing you again before too long. But right now, you’ve got a party to get to.”

  She and Casper bid me farewell, and I’m left alone once again. I stand in front of the mirror, amazed by every little detail of my dress, my hair, and my makeup. I never knew I could look so—for lack of a better term—hot.

  “Time to face the music,” I mutter to myself, as I hear a bluesy band start up next door in the villa. “Literally.”

  The wide, circular driveway is absolutely packed with cars as I make my way toward the main house. A valet team mans the front terrace as dozens of guests arrive for the festivities. Siena’s invited everyone even remotely affiliated with Team Ferrelli to this party, and plenty of people from other F1 teams, too. After the disastrous, tragic season that saw far too many crashes, deaths, and downright cruelty, the F1 community has been making a concerted effort to restore a bit of sportsmanship to the sport. Siena and Harrison have been leading the way on that front. They are, after all, the poster children of making friends out of supposed enemies.

  “Good evening, Miss,” smiles a tuxedo-clad man at the front door of the villa as I climb the marble stairs. “Are you on the guest list?”

  “I certainly hope so,” I laugh, clasping my hands behind my back. “My name’s—”

  “There you are!” I hear Siena call from inside the house. She appears in the doorway, dressed to kill in a fabulous violet dress with an open back and three-quarter sleeves. “She’s with me,” my new boss informs the gatekeeper. He nods amiably as Siena takes my hand in hers, ushering me inside at once.

  “Wow,” I breathe, staring all around the elegant home of the Lazio family. “This is where you grew up?”

  “That’s right,” Siena says fondly. “Well, this is where we spent the summers, anyway. During the school years, we were in New York. Not too far from you, actually. Just think, all those years we could have been running into each other in the Big Apple. Though, I guess I would have been old enough to babysit for you.”

  “Oh please,” I laugh, “You’re only, like, three years older than me.” I know that for a fact, having watched Siena grow up from afar. I’d always see her in Ferrelli press photos and think she was the coolest girl on the planet. And now here I am, at a party in her family home. My teenage self would be losing her shit if she could see me now.

  “I probably should have given you the grand tour before all the guests arrived,” Siena goes on, leading me through the foyer to the great room, where the band is all set up and rocking out. “Did you manage to get a little more rest today?”

  “Or something like that,” I smile, thinking back to my steamy bath session. “I feel great. This is too exciting!”

  “Excellent,” Siena beams. “You look absolutely incredible, by the way. I knew that Casper and Anneke would do a good job. Not like making you shine is exactly a challenge.”

  “Shucks,” I say teasingly.

  “
There she is!” I hear a familiar voice call from across the room. I look up to see Bex charging across the space, a handsome Italian man at her side. “Ainsley, just look at you! I can’t even. You’re just too hot.”

  “Thanks Bex,” I smile. “You look amazing, too.”

  And she does, in a little white minidress with long flared sleeves and sky-high heels. The man beside her smiles in greeting, extending his hand to me. He’s a clean-cut, preppy guy. Very Ivy League, with a warm, intelligent face.

  “Hey there. I’m Charlie Spano. This one’s husband,” he tells me, nodding at Bex.

  “I’m Ace Vaughn,” I tell him, “It’s really nice to meet you.”

  “You too,” he says enthusiastically, “I can’t wait to work with you as an affiliated driver!”

  “Charlie is also Ferrelli’s new team manager for the upcoming season,” Bex says proudly.

  “Inherited the job from my dad, Gus,” Charlie says in a stage whisper, “Don’t tell anyone, OK?”

  “How’s your dad liking retirement so far, Charlie?” Siena asks.

  “He’s having the time of his life,” Charlie laughs, shaking his head fondly. “I think he wants to be buried at the Saint Andrew’s Golf Club.”

  “That’s in Scotland, right?” I put in.

  “Yeah, exactly,” Charlie nods.

  “That’s where my parents are from,” I go on. “Scotland, I mean. Not the golf club.”

  “We should make sure to take a trip out there before the season starts,” Siena says. “Have you ever been to your parents’ home country, Ace?”

  “No, but that would be wonderful,” I say excitedly. “I would love that so much.”

  “It’s a plan then,” Siena says, draping an arm across my shoulders. “I promise.”

  “What are you scheming about over here?” says an accented voice over my shoulder.

  I turn to see Harrison Davies approaching, decked out in a charcoal suit with a ruby red tie—his F1 team’s color, as it were. And beside him, looking dapper as hell, is little Alfie. He’s rocking a suit that matches his dad’s, only his tie is a red and green plaid. Representing both Ferrelli and McClain colors—very classy.