Real (Real, #1)(39)
I can’t take my eyes off of her. The sight of her tits, weighted globes of perfection, right in front of my face. I force my eyes to move upwards and meet the challenge in hers. “If you think I f*ck like I drive, you should see me drop the hammer and race you to the finish line.”
I see her breath catch and her body stutter in its motion momentarily before she quickly recovers and regains her composure. My mind starts to try and figure what I just missed but my thoughts are pulled out from underneath me when she spreads her legs apart further, the wetness on her panties spreading wider. My fingers rub together, itching to touch.
“I thought racing wasn’t a team sport,” she says coyly. “You know, more of an every man for himself kind of thing.” Her eyes hold mine as her fingers slip beneath the band of her red silken panties and still, my eyes darting between the two waiting for her to move them. Begging her to move them. The visual consuming my thoughts.
I force myself to look away, to work a swallow in my throat that’s suddenly become dry. “Every man, yes,” I finally am able to get out. “It can be very dangerous too, you know?”
“Oh really?” she asks, eyes locked on mine, the moan of pleasure that falls from her lips has my breath laboring as I look down to watch the movement of her fingers beneath the fabric in front of me.
“Sweet Jesus!” I can’t handle the unknown, needing to see for myself the show on display. And thank f*ck my right hand decides to work when I need it most because the fragile fabric of her panties is snapped and dropped in an instant without a second thought.
And Rylee doesn’t even skip a beat.
Oh f*cking my. The white French tips of her nails are a mind-dizzying contrast to the darkened pink flesh they dance across. Perfection. Addiction. Absolution. I glance up knowing she’s going to have that taunting smile on her lips and for the second time in as many seconds I’m knocked breathless.
Fucking kryptonite.
Rylee’s head is thrown back, curls tumbling all over the place, lips parted, tits pushed out, and the sexiest moan coming from her lips as she doesn’t just revel in the moment but becomes the f*cking moment. Fuck me. The woman who used to tighten the sheet around her months ago in modesty now sits astride me in all of her glory, owning her body and sexuality with such a confidence that I’ve never thought her to be more sexy, more sensual, more everything than right now.
She lifts her head forward, her hand sliding out from between her legs, moisture glistening off of her fingers for me to see. “Well, Ace, danger can be overrated. It seems I know how to handle a slick track perfectly well.” She smirks that smug smile I want to f*ck off her face right now just before she slips her arousal coated fingers into her mouth and sucks on them, eyes taunting me all the while.
Is she trying to kill me right now? Fucking voodoo * is back with a vengeance and f*ck if I’m not ready to be the first and only victim. The woman has me strung tighter than a hair string trigger—volatile and ready to blow. My balls tighten, my body tenses wanting her so desperately, but my stubborn streak tells me I have to hold out, take the reins when the time is right. My body screams that time was ten f*cking minutes ago, while my head loves when Ry gets feisty and defiant. When she makes me work for it like no one else ever has.
“Slippery and wet, huh? Danger has never been more f*cking tempting,” I tell her, my eyes watching as she pulls her fingers from between her very f*ckable lips and follows the descent back down south. She adds torment to her tantalization by parting her seam with one hand so I can more than handily see her other fingers add the friction her sighs say is more than pleasurable.
Fuck me this is brutal to watch and not partake in when all I want is to do is urge her hips closer to my face and have her sweet taste on my tongue again. For that alone, it’s time for me to mess with her a little more and knock her out of the pleasure inducing coma that’s darkening the violet in her eyes.
“You know, sometimes in a race, in order to reach the finish line, rookies like you have to tag team to get the result you want.”
Her head snaps up, lips parting, and eyes flashing with shock momentarily until she regains her composure. Perfect. Threw you there didn’t I, sweetheart?
“Sorry, but this engine seems to be doing just fine running solo.” She smirks at me, so arrogant that she thinks she dodged the proverbial bullet. Too bad I’m holding the only gun allowed to shoot that shell. And f*ck me, she’s sliding her hands back down to my place between her thighs, her moan of pleasure when she finds purchase—my own personal Heaven and Hell.
And then she stops and looks at me, lust in her eyes and evidence of her arousal on her hands. “I know exactly what it’s going to take to get me to the finish line.”
“Oh, so you like to race dirty, huh? Break all the rules?” I ask, fingers trailing up her thighs, leaving visible goose bumps in their wake, her body angling toward me the higher I go. Fuckin’ A straight. She can play the aloof card all she wants but she can’t deny that her body readily submits to me when I want it to. And f*ck, how I want it to right now.
“Oh, I most definitely can handle dirty,” she taunts as she trails a finger up my chest and rubs some of her moisture across my lips. My tongue darts out, unable to resist the temptation to taste what I’m craving and f*ck me if it doesn’t make me want to flip her over, cuff her hands over her head, and f*ck the defiance out of her until she’s screaming my name and owning my heart more than she already does.