Accelerated Passion

by Lily Harlem

  When they reached their workshop, Dean stopped at the locked door. “Your keys.”

  Frankie delved into her bag. “Here.”

  He unlocked the door, and they stepped into the silence.

  He shut the door behind them, blocking out the dusky light, and flicked the lock. The huge doors that led to the pit stop were closed, creating a big blank wall.

  Frankie stared through the gloom.

  His car—their carbon fiber and aluminum baby—sat in the center of the full but obsessively neat area. Spare parts filled the walls in ordered patterns, and trolleys stacked with tires and tools were pushed up to form neat rows. Everything was organized, ready for tomorrow.

  Dean flicked on a light over the small office area. A milky glow spread across the pale grey floor, and the car adopted its usual shine.

  “Is there a problem with it?” she asked, walking up to the nose end.

  “No.”

  She pressed the tip of her finger to the surface and smoothed over the word McLaren. “This machine is beautiful.”

  “You really love Formula One, don’t you?” He was right behind her.

  “Yeah, I guess. Always have and always will.”

  He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close.

  She molded herself to him, more than happy to be in his arms and feel the strength of his body pushing up against hers.

  “The machine is beautiful,” he set a gentle kiss on her lips, “but nothing compared to you.”

  “I’m not beautiful.” She shook her head.

  He frowned. “Why would you say that?”

  “I’m a tomboy. I don’t have long blonde hair, big tits, and I’m certainly not into makeup and fancy clothes.”

  He raised his eyebrows as though surprised by this outburst. “You think those things make a woman beautiful?”

  “Well, yeah, isn’t that why you sleep with groupies?” She pulled in a breath. Why the hell was she starting this conversation now?

  “Bloody hell.” He shook his head and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. “For the record, I no longer sleep with groupies, haven’t for a while, years, in fact.”

  “You don’t?”

  “No.” He shook his head. “Sex is great, yeah. I won’t deny I couldn’t live without it, but sex with no emotion, no deeper connection… Let’s just say that gets old, and I’m over it.”

  “So you’re not into one-night-stands?”

  “Not anymore.” He paused. “And definitely not with you.”

  Her mind spun. She ran her hands down his back, tracing the shape of his spine and the thickly roped muscles that lined it. “I don’t understand.”

  “All I’m trying to say is I want more from my future than a string of women whose faces and names blur into one. I want…” He paused and kissed her, pulled her closer. “I want someone to spend time with in and out of bed.”

  She swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. Had Dean been thinking the same things as her? That maybe their connection, their attraction, could turn into something more?

  “I enjoyed today,” she managed.

  “Me, too. In fact, I enjoyed spending time with you on a boat nearly as much as enjoyed being in bed with you last night.”

  “Nearly?” She raised her eyebrows.

  “Come on, I’m a bloke. Rowing or sex?” He chuckled. “Sex is always going to win out. And sex with you… Well, let’s just say your sexy little body really hits the spot for me.”

  Frankie giggled. “You hit the spot for me, too.”

  He slanted his mouth over hers and kissed her. In an instant, the atmosphere changed. His breaths increased, blowing hot and hard on her cheek. He roamed his hands to her ass and dragged her close, pulling her against his groin.

  She moaned into his mouth as the solidity of his erection, even through material, sent a shot of lust through her body. Damn it, she wanted him. Now.

  But, God, could they? Here?

  “Frankie,” he murmured, slipping his hands to the base of her T-shirt. “I need you.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  “But…” Frankie said.

  “No buts. We’re all alone.” Dean pulled her top over her head then dropped it onto the floor.

  She reached for his T-shirt, did the same with it as he’d done to hers. The sight of his broad, hair-sprinkled chest rising and falling because of his fast, excited breaths threw any last thoughts of not fucking out of the window.

  She’d held herself back all day, been turned on by him since this morning. Now was the time to satisfy her urges.

  She reached for the top button on his jeans and popped it open.

  He reached around her back and released her bra. As it loosened, his gaze drifted to her breasts.

  She let the bra fall to the floor then resumed her work on his pants.

  “For the record, you have the best tits ever,” he said, tweaking her nipples then cupping the undersides in his palms.

  She smiled. Dean made her feel beautiful and desired, and she wasn’t going to argue with that.

  “And you have a very cute cock.” She shoved at his jeans, and they landed around his thighs.

  “Cute?” He raised his eyebrows. “That’s not quite the description I was hoping to hear.”

  She giggled and delved her hand past the waistband of his boxers. She gripped his dick and, at the same time, ran her hand to the back of his neck. “How about big, hard, and ready to go?” she said onto his lips.

  “Yeah.” He stared down at her. A muscle flexed in his cheek. “Add on unleashed.”

  “Unleashed. I like that.” She kissed him.

  But the kiss only lasted a second before he took her hand from his boxers and steered her to the end of the car.

  “Dean?”

  “This is where I want you.” He stooped, pushed at his shoes then removed his jeans. He shoved at his boxers and took his cock in his hand. Standing straight, tall, and naked, he set his attention on her. The same wicked glint that had crossed his eyes in the car, when he’d asked her if she had the keys, was back.

  Frankie tore her gaze from his cock, the way he was working it with his hand—so fucking hot—and looked at the car sitting low at her side. “I’m not sure.”

  “Strip,” he said, “then bend the hell over. I want you to hold the wheel, the wing, whatever is handy, but just don’t break it.”

  Bloody hell.

  “I have a good memory when it comes to you,” he said. “And you mentioned a filthy little fantasy about getting fucked over an F1 car.” He looked down at his cock and tensed his abs. “Fantasy coming up.”

  Frankie thought her heart was going to speed into overdrive. Adrenaline pumped around her system. Get fucked over the car they all worshipped and spent their days perfecting. It was worth millions.

  “Don’t make me rip your clothes off because you’ll have nothing to go back to the house in by the time I’ve torn them at the seams.”

  “Yes, okay.” Quickly, she undid her jeans and pushed them down. She stepped on them, pulling them off with her feet, her breasts jiggling as she did so.

  “Panties,” he said, nodding at the small white lace knickers she wore. “Now.”

  Hurriedly, she rolled them down her legs, kicked them aside.

  Now they were both naked and seriously turned on in the place they were normally in work mode; busy, concentrating, amongst colleagues.

  “Woman, your fantasy has turned into my fantasy.” He stepped closer.

  The heat from his body poured onto hers, and the scent of his faded aftershave and sun lotion filled her nose.

  “Good.”

  “Can you take it…all of it…?” He glanced at his cock, still in his hand.

  “You know I can.”

  He slipped his hand over her head and gripped the base of her ponytail. He yanked it.

  She gasped, the stitch of discomfort in her scalp adding to the tingling sensation that trembled over her skin.

  “What
I mean is…” His lips were a whisper from hers. “Can you take if I just unleash my need for you?” As he spoke, he twisted her hair into his fist.

  “Dean?”

  “Sometimes a man likes to fuck, really fuck, hard. Can you handle that? I need to know.”

  “I can handle anything you want to give me.” And she could. She wanted it all. To have Dean lose control. Surrender to desire, give in to passion—she could think of nothing sexier.

  He curled the corners of his mouth into a predatory smile then slammed his lips down on hers.

  His hands were everywhere now as he explored her nakedness. Their chests mashed together, her nipples scratching against his body hair.

  Frankie gripped his biceps, loving the way his muscles flexed as he touched her.

  “Damn it, I need to be in you.” He twisted her to face the car. Then, with firm pressure in the center of her back, he pushed her to ninety degrees.

  She placed one hand on the hard rubber tire in front of her and the other on the wing. Her breasts hung downward, and her ass jutted up.

  Had she ever felt so open, so wanton and abandoned at the same time? She knew, in the hard light of day, she’d be horrified that they’d done this, but right now, nothing could stop it. She wanted Dean to fuck her, while she was like this, and she needed it now.

  He gripped her ponytail again and held it firm.

  “Have you any idea how fucking amazing you look?” he said as he ran his fingers through the cleft of her ass cheeks. “So hot for it, so perfect.”

  She stared at the front of the car and held her breath as he eased two, maybe three fingers into her pussy.

  “And so wet for it. Wet for me,” he said. He began to pump, fucking her with his fingers.

  “Dean…” she gasped.

  “I’m going to make you mine,” he said. “Here, now, over the best fucking car in the world.”

  “Yes.”

  He withdrew. A hard slap landed on her right ass cheek.

  She bit her bottom lip to prevent from squealing as the sting traveled over her buttock and heat rose on her skin.

  “Ah, yeah, are you handling it?” he asked.

  “Yes.” She could guess what was coming next and hung her head down.

  But he pulled her hair harder, forcing her to look up as he delivered another slap, to her opposite buttock this time.

  Again, she bit her lip. Fuck, that had hurt. He’d put real male muscle behind it and held her so tight.

  “So pretty,” he murmured, smoothing away the pain with his palm. “You’re going so red, the shape of my hand is appearing.”

  “Fuck me,” she said. She was so wet, her pussy ached to be filled.

  He kind of laughed, but it was strained. “Patience.” He released her for a second.

  Frankie glanced over her shoulder and spotted him retrieving a condom from his wallet.

  He was behind her again in seconds, once again gripping her hair and checking out his handy work on her ass. He smoothed over her skin, tickling the base of her back and the tops of her thighs.

  “I want you to really feel me, really enjoy this fantasy,” he said. “Can I slap you again?”

  “Yes, yes…” He could do whatever the hell he wanted. “Just fuck me as well.”

  Four swift, hard slaps landed on her ass—two each buttock. She flinched with each one then bucked for more. The pain instantly turned to pleasure, increasing the longing in her pussy. It seemed to heighten the senses in her skin, the way her body felt just with the air on her flesh.

  “Hold on tight,” he said, adjusting his stance and aiming his cock head at her pussy. “This is going to be fast.”

  “Yes…” She curled her fingernails into the rubber tread and gripped the wing.

  “Wider.” He tapped her right ankle with his foot.

  She did as he’d asked.

  He shoved in. Not a slow, sensual ride, but a rapid thrust to full depth.

  Frankie cried out then released the wing and pressed her fist to her mouth. God, he was so big. She was so full. His balls were up against her, and her smarting ass cheeks rubbed on his belly.

  Once seated at the hilt, he stilled. He created tension on her hair with one hand and gripped her hip with the other. He groaned long and low.

  She squirmed, adjusting to the size of him inside her.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  “Yes…give it to me, all of it. I’m fine.”

  It was as if her words had flicked a switch in him. He pulled almost out then shoved back in. Set up a wild rhythm, fucking her with desperate energy.

  She stared at the car, at the shiny surface and the matt black of the tires. Her body was being shunted into but also held still. Each time he thrust to the max, the air was pushed from her. She panted, pulling oxygen in when she could.

  He was working her G-spot with the tip of his cock, massaging it, pounding it, driving her toward a deep and satisfying orgasm.

  “Fucking hell, babe, this is it…” He tipped forward and set his mouth on her shoulder, kissed, sucked, bit as he continued to pound into her.

  She shoved back for more of his cock, seating herself onto him. “Yes. Yes.”

  “You wanted to get fucked over the car…not just any car, but this one…mine.”

  “Dean, oh…I’m going to.” Her orgasm hovered, a big ball of energy that sparkled within reach. She knew it would take her breath away, catapult her into ecstasy.

  “And now you are,” he went on, holding her closer so her back was against his chest. “By me…you’re getting fucked by me, world fucking champion who can’t get enough of you, over the back…of the…damn…car.” He’d punctuated the last words with near violent thrusts.

  It tipped her over the edge.

  She shut her eyes and allowed the rawness and power of a G-spot climax to overwhelm her. Her limbs shook, but he held her to him, thrusting on and on, steaming in and out of her.

  Bliss radiated to her toes, and she curled them on the cool floor. She clutched at the tire that was hard and unmoving. Her pussy hugged his shaft, the pleasure going on and on and on. It was hard to breathe.

  “Ah, yeah…that’s it. Fuck, I can feel you…on my dick…so tight.” He lifted up, released her hair, and clutched her hips.

  She was aware of him coming, too, pumping into her, releasing his load as he held her just where he wanted her in a tight, possessive grip.

  He groaned in a deliciously guttural way that told her he was holding nothing back. He was claiming what he needed, going all the way. Fucking without inhibitions and taking them both where they wanted to go.

  She opened her eyes again, stared at the car that would, in a matter of hours, be racing around the track with Dean at the wheel.

  “Oh, God…” she moaned. “That’s…”

  “So good,” he finished for her, stilling. “Jesus, you’re incredible.”

  She let her neck relax and stared at her breasts which held a sheen of sweat. Her nipples were taut peaks.

  “Come here.” He pulled out and scooped her close.

  She twisted within his arms and settled her face in the groove between his chin and neck. His stubble was scratchy on her forehead. She was breathing fast, her chest butting against his with each expansion of her ribs. She felt empty without him inside her but also wonderfully satisfied.

  He stroked her hair and squeezed her closer. “That was wild.” He pressed a kiss to her head.

  “Yes, good wild, though.”

  “I didn’t take it too far?”

  “I would have told you if you had.” She looked up at him.

  He crooked his index finger beneath her chin. “You sure?”

  “Of course, I’m sure.” She touched his face. “You know me. I’m not the sort of girl to take something I don’t want.”

  “That’s true.” He paused. “And do you want me?”

  “You know damn well I do.” How could he not know that?

  He smiled then set a kiss o
ver her lips.

  It was so slow and controlled, delicate and soft, that it was hard to believe it was the same man who’d allowed feral passion to overtake him only minutes ago.

  Frankie snuggled closer, held him tighter. She was seeing the real Dean Cudditch. She knew she was. Not the racing driver, the world champion, or even the former playboy. This was the man he’d become—the father, the lover, the person she wanted to be with.

  Be with?

  He pulled back and looked into her eyes. He stroked her hair, moving a few loose strands. “We’re good together, don’t you think?”

  “Yes.” She paused, hoping what she thought she was seeing in his expression was right. That it was the same intensity of emotion as she was experiencing. “I do.”

  Could he really be having the same feelings as her? The same longing for this to be more. Much more?

  She guessed she’d have to wait and see.

  Because, before anything else could happen, Dean had a Grand Prix to not only qualify for but also win.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Qualifying day had the team on edge. They were all suited and booted, and helmets lined up ready for when the time came to wear them.

  Frankie took a step back, folded her arms, and watched as the car she had been fucked over the night before was rolled into the pits. Much as she’d enjoyed everything about Dean realizing her fantasy, she was now very much in work mode.

  They’d adjusted the wings, opted for super-soft tires again as the weather was so warm. Paul had experienced some problems with the emergency starter, but he’d sorted that now. Enrique had made a fuss about a gauge that wasn’t quite perfect, but, again, that was under control.

  Now they just needed Dean to arrive and grab pole position. If he got that, then race day would start with them at an advantage.

  She heard him before she saw him and made an effort not to turn and rush up for a hug.

  “Yeah, thanks, Paul. I get you on the fuel,” he said. “Makes sense to do that.”

  Frankie pulled in a deep breath, checked her expression was neutral, then turned to him.

  Fuck. How was she supposed to keep a neutral expression? The guy was so damn hot. His tight outfit left nothing to the imagination and only served to remind her of the sexy body beneath that she knew could take her to such highs.