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

by Colleen Masters

  “You’re sending me off to New York. With Enzo. For my first race as a member of Team Ferrelli?” I ask, hardly daring to believe what I’m hearing. Here I was, thinking Siena was about to chew me out for sleeping with her brother, when in actuality she’s handing me this incredible opportunity instead.

  “That’s right,” Siena grins. “It’s all happening, Ace. As soon as Enzo gets back, you two will be shipping off.”

  “Shipping off where?” I hear my lover’s voice drawl from the doorway.

  Siena and I look up to see Enzo strolling into the kitchen. He grabs an apple from the fruit bowl on the counter and takes a hearty bite. A little drop of juice lingers on his bottom lip—and I ache for wanting to lick it off. God, this man can make anything sexy.

  “You guys are going to New York City!” Siena says happily. “There’s a special race happening there this weekend, a closed street circuit. A one-time-only affair. And you two are going to be there representing Team Ferrelli. It’s really just an exhibition thing, but still, all press is good press, right? I’ve already made all the arrangements. Flights, transportation, the works. You’ll be staying in Manhattan for the weekend. I hope you don’t mind, but I booked you a two-bedroom suite. It was the best I could do last minute.”

  Enzo and I lock eyes across the kitchen. It’s all I can do not to burst out laughing with glee at this incredible turn of events. A whole week alone together, condoned by Team Ferrelli itself? It’s a dream come true within a dream come true.

  “I can dig it,” Enzo finally says, shrugging casually. Though he’s playing cool, I can see the excitement sparkling in his gaze. At least one of us is a decent actor. I can’t wipe a wide, stupid grin off my face.

  “Excellent,” Siena says, pulling herself to her feet. “Enzo, I’ll make arrangements for you to have a car waiting in New York City to use for the week. The race should be a piece of cake for you.”

  Disappointment clouds my sunny outlook at her words. “Oh. I thought...” I begin, blushing. “I thought that maybe I was going to get to race this time around.”

  Siena looks down at me in surprise. “Ace,” she says, taken aback, “You’ve only just started your training. I don’t want to risk you getting hurt before the season even begins.”

  “Right,” I say, my voice flat. “Right. Of course.”

  “But on the bright side,” Siena smiles hopefully, “You’ll get to meet a ton of people from the F1 community, and maybe even do a couple of test runs while you’re out there!”

  I smile back as best I can. I’m feeling a little let down, I have to admit. But if Siena says that I’ll be on that track before long, I have to believe her. My joining up with Team Ferrelli was her idea, after all. And I refuse to believe that she just hired me to be set dressing. So, I’ll head back to my hometown of New York City with Enzo by my side. Can’t exactly complain about that outcome.

  “OK,” I say, rising from the table. “I’ll get all packed and we can head right to the airport. Do you know what airline are we flying with? I want to get as close to the terminal as—”

  “Airline?” Enzo laughs, polishing off his apple. “We’re not flying with an airline, Ace.”

  “But how—?” I start, confused.

  “You’re in the big leagues now, kid,” Enzo says, strolling across the room and laying an arm across my shoulders. “And big leaguers get their very own private jets.”

  “Are you shitting me?!” I exclaim, staring up at him.

  “Not in the least,” he laughs, giving my shoulder a platonic pat. I glance over at Siena to see if she’s picking up on our newfound physical intimacy, but it looks like she either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care.

  “Thank you guys for running with this, last minute,” she grins, turning to go. “You’re gonna have a blast, I know it.”

  She bustles out of the room, leaving me alone with Enzo once more. He lets his arms slip around my waist, letting his friendly embrace transform into something much sexier.

  “Well,” he grins, pulling me tightly against him. “What a stroke of luck this is, huh?”

  “I’ll say,” I reply, shaking my head. “Honestly, I’m halfway expecting to wake up from this dream any second.”

  “I know the feeling,” he says softly, catching my chin in his hand. “But we’d better get used to it, Ace. Because things are only going to get even better for us from here.”

  He pulls my lips to his, kissing me hard and fast there in the middle of the kitchen. I can’t even be bothered by the fact that we’re standing smack dab in the center of his family’s home, just asking to be walked in on. I let my mouth open to his, savoring the sweet taste of his tongue on mine.

  That is, until I’m distracted by a tug on the hem of my tee shirt.

  “What’re you doing?” asks a tiny voice from the vicinity of our knees.

  Enzo and I leap apart and stare down at the tiny figure of Alfie. I didn’t even hear him come into the kitchen. The kid’s like a baby ninja.

  “Uncle Enzo?” Alfie presses, clutching his favorite red ball to his chest. “What’re you doing, Uncle Enzo?”

  “Uncle Enzo and Ace are...celebrating!” Enzo improvises, scooping Alfie up into his arms. “We’re celebrating our next big adventure in New York City.”

  “Adventure?” Alfie says, his blue eyes going wide. “Can I come on an adventure?”

  “Not this time, champ,” Enzo says, ruffling the boy’s sandy curls. “But I promise to bring you back a souvenir. What do you want? An Empire State Building toy? A Yankees cap? A big, ugly, subway rat?”

  “Eww!” Alfie cries, squirming in his uncle’s arms. “Not a rat, Uncle Enzo, that’s gross!”

  I smile at the pair of boys, goofing off together. And though I’d never admit it out loud, I can practically feel my biological clock spring into overdrive.

  One thing at a time, I chide myself, Booty call is a pretty long way from baby daddy.

  In no time at all, I’m striding across the tarmac at Enzo’s side, staring up in wonder at the Team Ferrelli private jet. The past 48 hours have been such a whirlwind that I can’t even say I’m baffled any more by this latest twist in my adventure. I haven’t had a moment to catch my breath, to second guess myself. And good thing, too, because I’m sure if I gave my rational mind a moment to get its bearings, it would have me hightailing it back to real life immediately.

  And that just wouldn’t do, would it?

  “Here we are!” Enzo says, leading me into the cabin of the jet. “Your chariot, Ace.”

  This plane could easily seat a dozen people, but Enzo and I are the only ones on board. The cabin is filled with absurdly comfortable seats, a half dozen TV screens, a fully stocked bar, and all manner of snacks. The pilot pokes his head in to say hello to Enzo, and just like that, we’re taxiing toward takeoff.

  I sink back into one of the chairs—a veritable throne compared to the airplane seats I’m used to—and glance out the window as we pick up speed, taking off into the endless blue sky. Enzo strides over to the built in bar the second we reach cruising altitude, fetching two ice cold beers and an oversized bag of popcorn. He settles down next to me, handing over a frosty bottle and pulling open the popcorn bag.

  “So. Do you like action movies or what?” he asks, scooping out a generous handful of popcorn from the bag.

  “Love them,” I reply, snagging some for myself.

  “Good,” he grins snatching up a remote control and flicking on the TV screens. “I think we’ve got every Jason Bourne movie ever made. That should make the flight go faster.”

  As Enzo cues up the first film, I’m overcome with a crazy case of the giggles. I let my head fall back against the seat, laughing until tears spring into my eyes.

  “Gonna let me in on the joke?” Enzo asks, playfully chucking a piece of popcorn at me.

  “It’s...It’s just...” I gasp, “I’ve heard of couples having movie-and-popcorn nights, but never while flying over the Atlantic Ocean in a pr
ivate jet!”

  “Couples, huh?” Enzo says, his expression becoming markedly more serious. “Is that what you think we are, Ace? A couple?”

  My laughter dies away at once as I consider his question. “Oh...” I stammer, “I don’t—I didn’t mean to spring that on you. I just meant—”

  “Hey, it’s OK,” he smiles, taking my hand in his. “I guess it’s something we should talk about eventually, right?”

  “I...guess so,” I say, blushing wildly. “To be honest, I don’t know much about being part of a couple. I haven’t had much time for relationships, what with my racing career. And the guys I’ve actually dated...Well, not very many of them have been boyfriend material.”

  “I feel you,” Enzo laughs, “I’m not really much of a relationship man myself. I haven’t even been on a second date for a couple of years now. Unless you count this movie-and-popcorn night, I guess.”

  “Maybe...” I begin, meeting his warm gaze. “Maybe we don’t have to rush to label ourselves one thing or another. Maybe we can just keep this to ourselves for a little while longer, enjoy our secret. I’m not sure if I’m ready for the rest of the world to find out, you know? I’m not even used to the rest of the world knowing my name, let alone my relationship status.”

  “God, I’m glad to hear you say that,” Enzo laughs. “I know from experience that the rest of the world can ruin a good relationship before it even begins. Besides, I like having a secret with you. Makes the whole thing that much sexier.”

  “We agree then,” I smile, lacing my fingers through his, “We’ll keep our little...thing just between us for now. Let the world get used to us being teammates first, before we spring the whole ‘lovers’ things on them, too.”

  “Now that you mention the whole ‘lovers’ thing,” Enzo murmurs, pulling me swiftly onto his lap, “I don’t really think I’m in the mood for a movie, after all.”

  “No?” I smile, wrapping my arms around his shoulders. “And what, exactly, are you in the mood for? Surely, we can think of some way to pass this flight...”

  “I have a few ideas,” he growls, kissing along the length of my collarbone. “Tell me, Ace. Are you by any chance a member of the mile high club?”

  A pulse of longing thunders through my core. “I can’t say that I am,” I whisper, shifting my weight so that my sex is pressed flush to his. I feel him respond at once.

  “Well, as a long-time member, how would you like me to initiate you?” he smiles, grabbing onto my hips with his powerful hands.

  “Quite the experienced gentleman, aren’t you?” I say softly, insecurity tugging on the edges of my desire as I wonder how many women he’s had on this jet before.

  Enzo’s brow furrows slightly. “I’m sorry, Ace. I didn’t mean to bum you out.”

  “Hey, it’s OK,” I shrug, smiling through my twinge of discomfort. “You’ve got, like, ten years on me, Professor. No wonder your number is bigger than mine.”

  “I oughta dock your grade for that one, kid,” he laughs, tackling me back onto the wide seats. The bag of popcorn falls to the ground, spilling everywhere. But there’s no way we’re pausing to clean it up now. “Don’t worry, though. I know a way you can earn some extra credit.”

  His hands roam all over my body as we soar through the sky. My lingering questions about his romantic past—not to mention his romantic present—are knocked away by the force of my need for him. We give ourselves over to each other, right then and there, layers of clothing flying every which way. I’m still deliciously sore from last night’s lovemaking spree, but that’s not going to stop me now.

  I’m wearing nothing but my tiny white camisole as I straddle Enzo on the airplane seats, his cock unsheathed and hard as stone. His jeans are down around his knees, his incredible chest bare, as I kneel above him, my sex poised against his throbbing member.

  “Wait a second,” he chuckles throatily, “I love a woman on top, but right now...”

  I gasp as he snatches me up and carries me into the aisle between the two rows of seats. Enzo lowers me down onto the soft carpet, lifting my tank top over my head. I’m lying stark naked beneath him, sprawled across the floor of his very own private jet. Enzo kicks off his jeans, joining me in utter nakedness before sinking down on top of me, his massive cock driving into my wet, eager pussy.

  It’s a good thing we’re 30,000 feet in the air. Because I’m sure if we were any closer to the earth, the entire world would be able to hear my screams of delight as Enzo and I work ourselves into a blissful frenzy. We come together, enormously and very loudly, before a sated, sleepy haze takes hold of us.

  “So,” I breathe, pulling myself onto an elbow. “Still in the mood for an action flick?”

  “You are my dream woman, Ainsley Vaughn,” Enzo laughs, pulling me into a long, searing kiss.

  I spend the rest of the flight trying (and failing) not to read into that phrase he used. His dream woman. I’m Enzo Lazio’s dream woman.

  Chapter Fourteen

  By the time we begin our descent into New York City, Enzo and I have mostly recovered from our mid-air romp. We dress in a giddy daze and gather our things for the week. I can’t wait to show him around my favorite parts of the city, though of course he’s no stranger to the metropolis himself. But even a place as iconic as New York can feel different when you’re with someone you care about. Buzzing with excitement and more than a little spaced-out, I trail Enzo out of the jet and into the airport proper. I’m already planning out our entire stay in New York, totally in my own little world as I imagine the possibilities.

  That is, until the rest of the world comes crashing down around us in the form of a thousand flash bulbs.

  “What the hell?” I exclaim, recoiling from the dozens of reporters that are lying in wait for us as we step out of the gate.

  “Don’t worry,” Enzo says, moving protectively in front of me. “They’re just hoping to snag a picture of the newest Team Ferrelli member. It’s nothing personal.”

  We move through the crowd of media types, and I try and tell myself not to panic. This is something I’ll just have to get used to now. But as the horde closes in around us, their voices rise to a hysterical din.

  “Ainsley! Ainsley Vaughn!”

  “Question! Question over here!”

  “Enzo Lazio, a word for the press?”

  “Ace! Is it true that you and Enzo are sleeping together?”

  That last question rises above the rest, slams into my gut like a sucker punch. I whirl around toward the source, searching through the crowd of clamoring faces.

  “Who said that?” I demand.

  “Is it true?” asks another voice from the throng. “Are you two an item?”

  I feel Enzo’s body stiffen as the pointed questions come hard and fast.

  “Personally, I think it’s pretty sexist to assume that there’s anything going on between Ace and myself, just because she’s a woman on a team of men,” Enzo says, his chest puffing out defiantly. “If that’s the sort of gossip you’re interested in printing—”

  “It’s not gossip!” yet another voice jumps in. The countless faces pressing in around us are starting to blur together as acidic dread churns in my gut. “There were eyewitnesses who saw you two together in Rome, checking out of a single hotel room!”

  Enzo and I exchange a quick glance as the entire herd of reporters goes wild. I can’t seem to get enough air into my lungs as Enzo and I struggle to move forward, out of the mass of people. How could they possibly know about Rome?

  “There are pictures all over the internet,” someone shouts, “Do you have a comment or what, you two?”

  “Are you sleeping together? Dating? What’s the story?”

  “How do you think this will affect Team Ferrelli’s reputation, after the scandal with Siena Lazio and Harrison Davies a couple of years ago?”

  “That was no scandal,” Enzo shouts heatedly, “That was a private matter between my sister and her now-husband that was exploited by p
arasites like you for the sake of page views. I’d advise you not to start in on this shit again.”

  “Is that a threat Enzo?” someone shouts.

  “Are you admitting that you and Ainsley are romantically entangled, too?”

  “Ace! Ace! How is he in the sack?”

  “Does his equipment meet Team Ferrelli standards?”

  “Who’s on top when you two go at it?”

  Just as hot, humiliated tears spring into my eyes, Enzo grabs me by the hand and pulls me clear of the cloying huddle of reporters. We burst through the double doors of the airport and dive into the waiting Ferrelli town car. Enzo slams the door behind us, and we’re free at last. At least, we’re free from the assholes we just left behind. But I fear we’re far from free when it comes to speculation from the rest of the world.

  Enzo and I whip out our phones in unison and pull up our web browsers, searching for evidence of a brewing scandal. A low groan rips out of his throat as our search results load. I stare down at my screen in horror as the hits roll in. Articles, comments, tweets, and statuses about Enzo Lazio and Ainsley Vaughn’s affair blow up my screen.

  “Goddammit,” Enzo roars, throwing his phone onto the floor of the town car.

  “This can’t be happening,” I whisper, as a photo gallery of me and Enzo loads on my screen. A so-called “Timeline of the Affair”, spanning the whole week and change that we’ve even known each other. There are shots of us at the Ferrelli party, with body language experts weighing in on how we’re obviously boning, given the way we’re holding our arms. There are press pictures of each of us individually, with speculation about the adorable babies we’d make together. And there, at the end, are a few blurry cell phone pictures of Enzo and I walking away from the hotel in Rome together. To my slight relief, the photographer didn’t follow us into that alley. But my relief is overridden by fury as I realize who must have taken these pictures.