Page 61 of Wild Card

I was sure I’d died. She literally took my breath away with her mouth on me, sucking and savoring every inch of me, all while she watched me with hooded eyes. My release was clawing along my spine, begging to be let free.

I made a pained sound, pulling at her to disconnect, but she gripped my ass, still covered by my boxers, and kept me there, sucking furiously on my cock—begging for me to spill down her throat.

So, I did.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuckkkkkk, baby.” I rolled my hips, gripped her hair, and finished the best goddamn orgasm of my entire life. She moved her left hand to fist my dick, holding it in place while she sucked every last drop of my release down her throat.

I was in so much trouble, because after this, there wouldn’t ever be a limit we’d reach where we’d had enough. I saw it in her eyes. Mallory Shaw wanted me, as often, as intensely, and as roughly as I wanted her.

* * *

“Something tellsme this isn’t exactly legal,” Mallory said, looking over her shoulder.

I smirked as she brought her hood up to cover her head.

“Are you afraid?” I peered down at her while tugging her closer to my side.

“I’m just surprised you’re okay with this…I mean, he’s only sixteen.”

The loud sound of a modified exhaust barreled into us as my Uncle Scotty started the Hellcat my brother would be driving; the bar we were standing behind vibrated from the noise. We stood on a small patch of concrete with a wobbly, rusted bar raised as a handrail, separating us from the crowd. The entire overpass was deserted for the time being as a massive construction project was planned in the coming months, so all four lanes were vacant. It allowed the less law-abiding citizens ample opportunity to take advantage. There were about fifty people on either side of the road, huddled in clumps of fandom as my brother’s team fussed over his car. The idiot challenging him hadn’t arrived yet.

“He may be sixteen, but he’s been driving since he was eleven, and before that he was watching these races his entire life.” My hand dipped into the back pocket of Mallory’s jeans, and the feeling of her pressed into my side while we watched my little brother get ready for the race just hit me in the fucking chest. This couldn’t be real.

“I thought you brought me here to talk and explain yourself.” She tilted her head back, smiling. “You know, without the sheets between us.”

I laughed at the gleam in her eye. Thinking back to that morning, I remembered how, after we’d both come down from our high, she’d tried to pull those damn sweats on again, and I nearly tackled her. I kissed her until she agreed to get breakfast with me, and I failed to mention we’d be picking it up on our way to Pinehurst. Once she realized, she laughed and mentioned that she’d started packing overnight things in her purse after our night in the storm.

On the drive over, we ate and listened to music, quizzing each other on genres and band names. Mallory also explained her spatial anxiety in case we got ourselves into a situation where there was a big crowd. I was grateful for the information considering we were headed toward a crowd. Still, it seemed neither of us were ready to burst the bubble we were in by talking about everything I had to explain…until now, I guess.

“You’d risk missing this?” I gestured to my brother, who was taking a selfie with some blonde girl. She seemed a little too overly enthusiastic for the girls he usually liked to date. Kyle liked broody girls, the ones nearly impossible to get, but he also liked attention—my little bro was more messed up than even me. That was my observation, at least. He’d never talked about anyone he liked, or anyone he didn’t like, for that matter. I looked around, trying to see if his best friend was here since she was usually the reason the other girls didn’t brave getting too close to Kyle on race days. She was also the reason my brother had been driving since he was eleven.

“Does he know you’re here?” Mallory asked, bringing my eyes back to her.

“Yeah, I texted him earlier that we’d be here.”

“We?”

The newer Mustang rolled in next to the Hellcat my brother would be racing on behalf of my Uncle Scotty. The brand-new car was gunmetal grey with a single black stripe down the side, and it was entirely too much car for Kyle.

Fuck.

Scotty was supposed to keep my brother alive. I knew, even beyond what came stock on that car, it was too much power for my sixteen-year-old brother. He was still too eager to make a name for himself in these street races. He was one hell of a driver, but my stomach still tilted as I saw him tip his head back, looking for me. He gave me a single nod, delivered a smirk to Mallory, and then ducked his head, getting into the car.

I swallowed my nerves and remembered what she had asked.

“Yeah, my little brother likes you. Gave me hell for leaving that morning without saying goodbye…he wanted to have breakfast with us, get to know you.”

She melted into my side, her left arm darting out around my waist. We watched as the crowd simmered, and music began playing from the small speakers set up on the other side of the road.

“This is quite the setup,” Mallory quipped, bringing the cord of her hoodie up to her mouth and beginning to chew on it.

“Getting an itch to write a story about it?” I joked, keeping my eyes on my brother. The man challenging him was clearly in his twenties, possibly even older than me. It wouldn’t really matter, but he had more years under him in knowing how to race and handle cars.

“No, this one I’m just going to enjoy for myself.”

Kyle buckled the harness in his bucket seat, and I waited to make sure he would grab for the helmet Scotty insisted both racers wear when they did these things. It had been a while since I last attended one, so I wasn’t sure if he was keeping up on it or not. Kyle spun his hat backward but didn’t reach for a helmet.

Fuck.

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