Total pages in book: 167
Estimated words: 164557 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 823(@200wpm)___ 658(@250wpm)___ 549(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 164557 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 823(@200wpm)___ 658(@250wpm)___ 549(@300wpm)
My parents would kill me if they knew I was racing cars in an empty racetrack at midnight, but I’m a safe driver. I never go faster than I can handle, and Dante insists we wear helmets even though we technically don’t have to.
“I’m so stressed,” I sigh, my griping session finally coming to an end.
“Well, I’m about to make you forget all that nonsense for a while.” Dante grins. “Come on. You’re gonna love this.”
He leads me down the row of luxury cars in the lot, their sleek, polished bodies gleaming under the lights.
Excitement bubbles up inside me when we stop in front of a car I’ve never seen here before. A cherry-red Corvette Stingray that looks like it was designed to break every speed limit in existence.
I moan out loud.
Dante shudders. “Jesus Christ, princess. I’m gay, and that sex moan just made my dick twitch.”
“I want to marry this car.” My voice barely contains my thrill. “She’s the one I want to drive tonight.”
“Figured you’d say that. Just don’t go too crazy, all right?”
I grin at him. “No promises.”
“Gear up,” he says, tossing me my usual helmet.
The moment I slide into the driver’s seat, the interior cocoons me in pure luxury. The leather seats are buttery soft. The dashboard looks like it belongs in a sci-fi movie. My heart starts pounding as I run my hands over the steering wheel, anticipation coursing through me.
Dante reaches over and presses the start button. The engine roars to life, a deep, powerful sound that sends a shiver down my spine and a tingle between my legs.
Cars make me hot.
Lab work makes me hot.
My onion has layers upon layers.
I glance at Dante, and he nods, giving me the go-ahead. I ease the Stingray onto the track, my foot hovering over the accelerator. The floodlights cast an almost surreal glow on the asphalt ahead, making it look like a ribbon of black silk unfurling into the night.
“Give it to her,” he urges.
I take a deep breath and press down on the gas pedal.
The Stingray surges forward, the force of acceleration pushing me back into my seat. Oh, hell yes. The world outside the windows becomes a blur as the speedometer climbs, and I feel an exhilarating rush of adrenaline. The tires grip the track with precision as I guide the sports car around the first curve. I’m in full control, completely in sync with the machine.
Dante whoops beside me, the sound barely audible over the roar of the engine. “Yes, baby, fucking yes!”
I laugh, the sound bubbling up from deep inside me. “I know, right?”
I push the car harder, faster, letting the speed take over. This is better than sex. This is better than orgasms and straight A’s.
This is heaven.
The track is a winding, twisting path, but I navigate it with ease, my hands steady on the wheel, my foot heavy on the gas. Every turn is like a dance between control and chaos. I’m giddy. The Stingray responds to my every move like it’s an extension of me, and for a few moments, it feels like nothing else in the world matters.
As I tear down the final straightaway, the car screaming at full throttle, the tension of the past few days melts away, replaced by a wild, carefree exhilaration.
Finally, I ease off the gas and bring the Stingray to a stop. The engine idles with a low, satisfied purr, like I just gave it a good, hard fuck.
I turn to Dante, breathless and grinning from ear to ear. “That was incredible.”
“Told you it’d be worth it.”
“Go again?”
“Hell yeah.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHARLIE:
Sorry I didn’t respond last night. I got in at like five in the morning.
LARS & B:
Sounds like an eventful night.
CHARLIE:
It was. Who am I speaking to?
LARS:
Oh sorry, it’s Lars.
CHARLIE:
My Swedish heartthrob! How’s Bjorn?
LARS:
Um…who?
CHARLIE:
Oh, I refer to B as Bjorn. I imagine you guys as two ripped Swedish boys. I envision glorious Viking men.
LARS:
I think most of the Vikings were from Norway, not Sweden.
CHARLIE:
Please just let me have this.
LARS:
Do you have a Viking fetish? Is that it?
CHARLIE:
I didn’t *think* so, but now…
LARS:
You like the idea of being conquered.
CHARLIE:
OMG. I think I do.
LARS:
All right. Let’s say B and I want to do some conquering. How does that play out?
CHARLIE:
Hmmm. Okay. I guess it starts with you kicking down my door and bursting into my bedroom.
LARS:
Do we find you on the bed? At a desk?
CHARLIE:
I’m lying in bed. Naked. Touching myself.
LARS:
We interrupted you getting yourself off?
CHARLIE:
Yes.
LARS:
Were you close?
CHARLIE:
So close.
LARS:
Ah, that’s too bad. Because we don’t let you finish, do we, Charlie? Your orgasm belongs to us now. You try to cover yourself up, but it’s too late. We’ve seen every inch of that hot, tight body. And now you’re at our mercy. I get on the bed with you, holding you down. B gets on his knees at the foot of the bed. Are you fighting us or are you begging for us?