Page 3 of Fast

The kind of guy my mom has always been telling me to stay away from. God, she’s going to be pissed if she finds out I followed Cal to Bridgeport for the Super Bikes race this weekend. Hopefully, she’s not going to bump into Wren’s mom and ask her how our sleepover is going.

“Zara.” Cal grabs my wrists, his chest touching mine. “I asked you a question.”

Our foreheads are touching, his lips just a breath away from mine.

“I’ve been watching the race,” I swear. “I just had to use the bathroom?—”

“Bull-fucking-shit.” Cal advances until there’s no more space between us. The warm metal of the RV is searing the sliver of skin between my jeans and tank top. “I always know where you are, jail-bait. I like to catch a glimpse of your perfect little tits during a pit stop. It makes my cock hard and makes me ride faster, imagining riding you after I win. That’s why I brought you with me this weekend. To look pretty, bring me luck and hopefully—finally—seal the fucking deal and get us to the finish line.”

I swallow, my nipples hard and the space between my legs throbbing painfully. “I was there, I swear.”

Cal’s hand closes around my throat, pinning me against the RV wall. “You’re lying, Zara. You weren’t there and the entire day went to shit. Tomorrow I’m gonna start behind the Hunter brothers and some fucking new guy racing without a team. I’ve already lost to Ares and Atlas Hunter two weeks ago in Shell Cove, when you couldn’t come to watch me because you had finals at school or some stupid shit like that.”

My temper flares at his tone.

Maybe I should consider that he has me pinned, that his hand is closed around my throat, but this is how Cal and I are. We’re both passionate and a little reckless and I’m not going to back down. “You know I can’t miss school to follow you around. I’m already going to be grounded until I’m thirty if my mom finds out I’m not at my friend’s home in Shell Cove this weekend.”

That was the wrong thing to say.

“I should have listened to Zaid and Taz when they told me not to waste my time with high school girls.” Cal sneers, pressing me harder against the metal of the RV’s wall.

He’s so hard, I can feel him through the leather of his pants. My body reacts with the usual confusing mix of arousal and fear. “Cal, I’m sorry, I?—”

“You,” he bites out, grinding his erection against my center. “Can make it up to me for not watching the race like you were supposed to.”

His fingers tighten against my throat as his lips crush mine with bruising intensity.

He doesn’t ease me into the kiss, he doesn’t ask permission. Cal just pushes his tongue inside my mouth. His kiss is hard, punishing. It hurts more than it feels good.

But I don’t reject him. Not yet.

My body fears him and craves him at the same time.

His hand leaves my throat to descend to my breasts. He cups one, kneading and squeezing so hard that the pain is almost more than the pleasure.

“Fuck, you taste so good,” he growls, leaving my lips to kiss a hot trail down the column of my neck. “Every time I think Taz and Zaid are right and I should move on, I remember why I’m being so fucking patient with you, jail-bait. If your mouth and your tits drive me so crazy, I can only imagine how your tight little cunt is going to feel when you squeeze my cock until I fill you to the brim with my jizz.”

I squeeze my eyes closed, flinching at his language.

All my girlfriends say they love dirty talk, but the way Cal uses the C-word makes me feel like this is all wrong.

My hand covers his when his fingers fumble with the button of my jeans. “No, babe,” I plead. “Wait.”

He swats my hand away, popping the button open. “I’m tired of waiting, Zara. What I need from my girl is for her to watch myraces, to be proud of me. And a fucking to unload my adrenaline, to satisfy my needs. I need to come and I need to fuck. I’m sick and tired of going home with blue balls every fucking time we hang out. It’s about time you earn your spot by my side.”

I grab his wrist with both hands when he begins lowering my zipper. “Cal, wait. Please. I swear we will. It’s just… I want my first time to be special. I’m not ready, I?—”

The good news is that he stops trying to undo my jeans.

The bad news is that Cal isn’t on my same page. “I’m going to make it special, I promise.” He pulls me to his chest and presses me against the wall at the same time. “What’s more special than being the girl who gets to fuck the future Super Bikes champion, huh? Every girl in Bridgeport and I bet every girl in Shell Cove would die to be in your place. I’ve been patient, but it’s been three months. I like you, Zara, and you bring me good luck. But no girl is worth three months of frustrating hand jobs. Stop being a fucking boring, goody two shoes and let me take what’s mine.”

I struggle against him, managing to keep him at arm's length for a few precious seconds, just long enough to catch my breath. “I’m not ready. Please, Cal?—”

My back hits the RV wall again. Harder this time. So hard that my teeth gnash with jarring violence. So hard that I’m surprised they don’t shatter.

“Stop whining and grow the fuck up!” Cal yells, grabbing me by my shoulders and slamming me against the wall again. “I swear to God, Zara, we can do this the nice way and make your first time fun; or we can do it the hard way and I can take what I want without worrying if it’s good for you. I’ll come either way. It’s up to you how the fuck you want it.”

“Cal, let’s go inside. Here everyone can see us.” I’m so scared, I’m not thinking straight.

---