Black Flag (Racing on the Edge) (18 page)

“That’s for what you
did to Sway.” I smiled manically back at him letting him go. Sliding down the
wall, his hands instantly went to his bleeding nose. He said nothing, just
whimpered.

“Nice seeing you again
...
Devin.” I began to walk away as though
nothing happened.

Aiden, just as shocked
as Dylan, stared at me.

“What did he do to
Sway
?” Aiden asked
,
his head turned
to look at him and then back to me.

“Took her virginity and
never called again.”

Have you ever heard
that saying you don’t mess with the south? Yeah, well, Aiden is a good example
of that. He stomped back over to Dylan, punched in his broken nose and was back
to walking beside me.

He fits in the family
perfectly.

“What the fuck!” Dylan
cried out as he grabbed a handful of napkins from the concession stand.

Back Marker – Sway

“What’s he doing out there?”
Jameson sipped his mocha beside me, his shoulder bumping mine.

I’d gotten up early
this morning so this was the first I’d seen him. The World of Outlaws race was
tonight which meant we had a
very
busy day here. Though on the outside I
appeared calm, internally I was excited. Everyone was here together for the
first time in years. Charlie however wasn’t making today easy.

“Watering the track,” I
answered Jameson, giving him a quick kiss and then sipping my hot chocolate
he’d brought me. “At least I think that’s what he’s doing.”

It sure didn’t look
like he was watering the track the way he hauling ass. He needed to be going a
lot slower than he was for it to work.

“Why is he watering the
track?” Jameson looked alarmed. “Jesus, that doesn’t seem like a good idea!”

It wasn’t a good idea.

Charlie had recently
begun experiencing memory loss that the doctors had warned me about and would
frequently forget what he was doing, while he was doing it. Which is the why he
no longer had a driver’s license. I was also aware of the fact that he reeked
like whiskey, and so did Jameson.

I laughed because at
that point. It was all I could do to keep from crying.

“He’s watering the
track because he fired Hank this morning, something about not enough water. It
looks like he’s trying to create a mud pit.”

“Who’s Hank?” Jameson
looked confused. “We have someone to water the track?”

“Correction, we
had
someone to water the track. You have to hire someone else.”

“Well shit.” Was his
only answer as we stared at Charlie creating the next
Girls Gone
Wild
.
I briefly
wondered how the trophy girls felt about mud wrestling.

“Sway,” Charlie yelled
for me through his megaphone some dumb shit gave him earlier today. I had a
distinct feeling that dumb shit was Tommy Davis, our high school buddy and
mechanic for Jameson’s sprint car team. “Go get me my tools. This piece of shit
isn’t putting out enough water. I’m gonna fix this once and for all.”

Logan, Andrea’s son,
walked up beside us and said, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” He chuckled.
“Yesterday he tried to fix the dishwasher and now every time you turn on the
kitchen light the dish washer sprays water all over the kitchen and sparks.”

Jameson and I just
gawked in disbelieve. It was going to be long day. Not only was Charlie now firing
people left and right, he’d gone completely crazy. I was now positive he was
five cans short of a six pack.

Logan walked away
toward Lucas, his twin brother who was picking up money that’d fallen out of people’s
pockets under the grandstands. These two were little shits and I was positive
their father was the devil. Andrea, my dad’s live-in girlfriend, was sweet and
I had no idea how in the hell she gave birth to those monsters let alone not
kill.

“I swear to god,
Jameson.” I remembered my morning with Charlie. “If he tells me one more time
his eggs taste like shit
...
I’m turning him into
eggs
...
or shit.”

Jameson laughed
pressing me to his side. Softly he kissed my forehead.

“I missed you.” He
whispered his breath strong of whiskey and chocolate.

“I see you and Charlie
finished off the bottle of whiskey last night.”

“Sorry
...
it was his fault.” His sheepish grin was
adorable.

“Blame the man with
brain cancer
...
that’s low Jameson.”

He chuckled again
tightening his grip. “It
was
his fault. He forced me to drink.”

“Yeah—” I began but was
cut off by a little boy tugging on Jameson’s sweatshirt.

“Excuse me sir
...
can I get an autograph?” the little
blonde haired boy asked. He was cute, couldn’t have been any older that five.
Immediately I wanted to lean down and pinch his adorable puffy cheeks.

“Oh sure buddy,” Though
he hated being interrupted when working, he loved the little pint sized fans.
“What’s your name?” he asked kneeling beside him to reach for the picture he
handed him.

“My name is Zack.” The
little boy chimed.

Jameson wrote a little
note to him before handing the photograph back. “There you go buddy.”

Zack’s eyes lit up with
excitement when he glanced at the note. “Thank you!”

“Thanks man, you made
his day.” His dad, I assumed, shook Jameson’s hand and they walked away.

Humbly, Jameson just
smiled seeming uncomfortable with the praise.

I was in love. I had
the sweetest dirty heathen around. But just as I was going to suggest we go up
to his office, another fan approached us.

After the fourth one, I
began to realize the entire day was going down like this. Jameson didn’t make
it two feet and he was bombarded with a horde of fans all waiting for their
chance to meet a hometown legend in the making.

Since Jameson took over
ownership, my duties around the track were to keep smoke from turning into
forest fires. This wasn’t easy these days but made the race night go by
quickly.

Before the feature
events began, I noticed I hadn’t seen Jameson in a few hours. Fearing for his
safety with all these obsessed garage groupies hounding him, I went looking for
his body hoping still had his arms and legs.

I spotted Alley and
Lane at the merchandise booths.

“Hey, have you seen—”
My phone beeped distracting me. It was Jameson. “Oh, never mind.”

His text said to meet
him in his office. I climbed the stairs, passed through the announcer booth and
made my way into the back office where I knew he’d be.

When I walked inside,
there was no one there but the bathroom light was on so I assumed he was in
there. The day hadn’t given me much quiet time, so it felt good to get away
from Mallory, our office manager and her crazy antics. I loved the girl but on
race days she acted as our scorer and she made me crazy.

Taking a seat in his large
black leather chair, I noticed his laptop was on a slide show of pictures from
our child hood and different races.

I watched the display,
smiling at the ones from our summer together, when I heard the bathroom door
open. My eyes flickered away from the screen for a second and shot back
instantly when I saw Jameson leaning against the door frame, shirtless. His
jeans hung low, revealing the sharp defined ridges of his hips, and his
tattoos.

“
Mmmm
...
” was all I could articulate in that
moment.

Jameson smirked walking
toward me, and then leaned back against the desk in front of me. I reached out
to run my fingers along his waistband only to have him grasp it firmly before I
could do so. An evil smile materialized as he gently tipped his head to the
right. “Ah-uh,”

“Why
not?”

“Tsk, tsk, Sway.” He
whispered. “You’ve been a bad girl.”

I giggled. “Have I?”

“Yes, you’ve been
very
naughty.”

“Have not.”

“Yes you have.”

“Have not.” I crossed
my arms over my chest glowering at him. Not an easy task with the glorified
funbags in the way.

“Are you going to argue
with me?” his expression hardened. “I don’t suggest it.”

“Why
not?”

“It will only make your
punishment more severe.”

I blanched.
“W-w-what punishment?”

“Sway,” he shook his
head, menacing eyes narrowed and raked down my body. “I warned you
...
I don’t like being teased, honey.”

By now, I was well
aware of what he was referring to.

My
phone call yesterday.

Playing along, I ran my
foot up his long leg.

“So what’s my
punishment?”

Jameson moved to stand
in front of me, nudging my knees apart with his legs. Distracting me with wet
seductive kisses, he bent forward, grasping both my wrists, and placing them on
the arms of the chair. I kept them there, not paying any mind to the
ministrations his hands were doing because holy hell the kissing was amazing.
His tongue was soft and passionate, his lips warm and tender as they always
were.

Before I could stop
myself from turning into goo for this man, he handcuffed me to the
motherfucking chair.

“That’s not fair!”

He tricked me but
mother of pearl this was hot!

“I’ll tell you what’s
not fair.” He paused, long fingers curled around my chin so I was looking him
directly in the eyes. “What’s not fair is having my girlfriend deburring on the
phone with me,” his brow arched in challenge when I opened my mouth to speak. “
...
while my brother was sitting across from
me.
That’s
not fair.”

“It was funny.”

“Honey,” he drawled.
“You shouldn’t have said that.”

Jameson knows me. He
knows I’m not a morning person. He knows I have a chemical addiction to coffee,
particularly white chocolate mochas. He knows that I hate to wear socks and
would rather wear
Old Navy
flip flops every day of the year. He also
knows exactly how to make my body respond to his and could have me screaming in
minutes. He knew me.

I also wasn’t surprised
at all when he knew exactly what to do to drive me to the point of sexual
insanity.

Touching
himself
.

He kept his right hand
around my neck, his thumb swept over my lower lip. His other hand traced the
outline of my funbags, ran down my stomach, along my inner thigh, circled
toward my crankcase and then pulled away.

My eyes searched his.
He winked with a smirk biting down on his lower lip. His eyes fell closed and
his forehead fell against mine. When he let out a soft groan, I dropped my eyes
to his motions below to find that his hand was dipped inside his jeans, rubbing
along his hard camshaft.

Hot fucking damn!

My only answer was to
rub my thighs together searching for any type of friction. Jameson shook his
head pushing forward, spreading my legs as he continued to stroke himself
inside his jeans.

“What you did
...
driving me to the point of utter
fixation
...
was cruel.” He breathed
against my cheek, the words vibrated throughout.

“So is this
...
” I pointed out. “This
is
cruel.”

Let me explain, my
hands were handcuffed to the chair. Jameson had my legs spread, panties were
soaked with so much assembly lube I could bottle the shit and he was touching
himself inches from me.
And
I couldn’t do a goddamn thing.

This is punishment in
the cruelest form.

Jameson chuckled,
amused by with himself and yanked away, unbuttoned his jeans, flipped my dress
up to my waist and dropped to his knees.

Both of his strong
hands slowly traveled from my ankles, up my thighs and around my ass where he
pulled me to the edge. “I should make you beg me right now
...
but I need you so bad
...
that it’s going to happen like this,” he
pulled my panties down to my lower thigh and ripped them off with his teeth.

Fucker
...
now I won’t have underwear the rest of
the night. Not cool.

“You’re going to stay
tied up, while I drive
you
to complete insanity.”

“You already have.”

“Ah honey,” he drew out
lazily. “I haven’t even begun to drive you insane.”

We didn’t have a lot of
time. Racing would be starting in less than twenty minutes but Jameson was
talented at what he does and he knows his way around an engine.