Page 90 of Flat Out
Marco leaned closer, peering over Ivy’s shoulder at the cover. “Hot, yes, but…” His grin spread wickedly. “Also very, very French. Bold. A national treasure.”
Kimi stepped in too, shameless, tilting his head for a better angle. “I approve. She looks like she could kill you or fuck you—maybe both.”
Ivy arched a brow at them, unbothered. “Careful, boys. Flattery gets you everywhere.”
The way both of them suddenly straightened, smug but intrigued, made my stomach flip. Of course they’d flirt with her, and of course Ivy would revel in it. The night I met her—the night of that very same photoshoot—she literally told me she seduced a security guard to get into the paddock to meet me.
She was a maneater in the best way.
Even in leggings, heels, and an oversized sweater, she looked like the most badass bitch I’d ever seen.
“I think I’m going to need a copy of this magazine,” Marco said. “Are there any other photos of Dubois in there?”
He reached for it, Ivy yanked her arm back so the magazine was out of reach, and Kimi grabbed Marco’s forearm, muttering something about him being a horny bastard.
Meanwhile, Callum slid his arm tighter around my waist, pulling me flush against his side like he was ready to fend off the entire world. I pressed my lips together, holding in mylaughter over the whole ordeal. His voice dropped, brogue thick as whiskey. “They’re not looking at you, love. They’re looking at my mark.”
I wanted to crawl into the tarmac and disappear.
“Why are you even here?” I piped up, desperate for distraction as I turned to Ivy.
Ivy shrugged, flicking the magazine against her palm. “Had a meeting in Spielberg yesterday. Orion GP’s new owners. Still no official name, but they’re planning something big. Tech partnerships, new wave of investors, whispers of a fresh design for next year’s car. Interesting times.” She slid her glasses back down, smirk never fading. “And frankly? I wasn’t going to miss this little show.”
Callum’s eyes narrowed, suspicion shadowing his face, but I perked up instantly. Orion gossip meant leverage, and leverage meant ammunition for the FIA.
By the time we boarded the jet, Marco and Kimi were still cracking jokes, Ivy was leafing through my article with wicked satisfaction, and I was trying to sink into the leather seat and vanish. Callum tugged me close, his lips brushing my temple.
“If this is what the French press thinks is empowerment,” I muttered, horrified, “we’re fucked.”
He kissed me, voice rough and thick against my ear. “They’re just jealous, mon cœur. You’re mine. They’ll all know it now.”
I lifted my chin, determined to sound dignified. “Well. Good. Because I am… how you say…” My brain scrambled for the right words, but the exhaustion was heavy in my brain. “The big dick.”
Silence. Absolute silence.
Marco blinked once, then bent in half, laughter exploding out of him so violently he wheezed. “What the fuck?” he gasped between cackles. “Aurélie Dubois, thebig dick!” He practically announced it to the world.
Kimi nearly dropped his phone, grinning like a wolf. “Finally, honesty in motorsport. We should put it on your race suit, right beneath your name on the back.”
My face burned hot enough to light the bloody jet. “NON! That is not what I meant!” I flailed my hands. “Bigdeal!DEAL! Oh my God, you know what I mean!”
Marco was crying now, clutching his stomach. “Nope. No take-backs. You are foreverle big dick!”
Ivy sipped her coffee nonchalantly, somehowstillunbothered. “Honestly? Kind of iconic. I can work with that.” Her eyes took on a faux faraway look and she waved her hand in the shape of a rainbow. “I can see the campaign now.Le Big Dick. Le Big Deal.”
Marco fell off his seat howling. Kimi muttered, “Perfect. Straight to the merch.” Ivy smirked. “Slap it on a t-shirt. We’ll add it to theFrenglish Fuck-Upcollection right there withLes Twisty-est Virages. It’ll sell out in an hour.”
Callum buried his face in my shoulder, shaking with laughter. “Christ, baby. Your brain—” He broke off into a strangled laugh.
I grimaced. “I expected you of all people to be on my side, Fraser.”
Kimi leaned back, smirk widening. “I don’t know, Dubois. It has a nice ring. Better than world champion.”
I half-groaned, half-laughed, covering my face with both hands as Ivy flipped the magazine open again. “Well,” she said, deadpan, “France’s Most Impressive Women Under Thirty. Seems accurate.”
And that was how we left Austria—me red-faced, the boys doubled over, Ivy smirking like the devil, and Callum still holding me like I was the only thing worth laughing about.
The restaurant waswarm and dim, the kind of cozy English place that tried too hard to feel old-world. Candles flickered on every table, casting shadows over polished wood and tarnished brass. It reminded me of just a few nights ago. The mirror in our hotel room, slick skin glinting in candlelight, of Callum’s hands clamped bruisingly on my hips as he drove me down over and over. The memory of his piercing dragging against my inner walls, cock stretching my ass, fingers buried deep inside me. It was still branded into my body. I shifted in the booth, thighs pressing together, the ache blooming sharp and sweet, and tried to focus on the present.
