Gas or Ass (13 page)

And maybe somewhere, pigs could fly.

“So, you and Colt are a thing now?” I stared into the mirror, catching her shrug. “He texted me, okay?”

I grabbed a tissue to wipe off the crooked line over my eye. “I guess.” I couldn’t bring myself to ask what he’d said in his text.

She crossed her feet at the ankles and kicked faster, heels nearly touching her buttocks. “You know about them, right?”

“Know... what?” My heart lurched. I doubted I could handle another revelation. In the brief time it took her to respond, my imagination filled in two wives and a couple of kids they’d failed to mention. Or prison records longer than my arm. Or—

“They share. Their women. If you’re fuckin’ Colt, then sooner or later, you’re fuckin’ Caine.”

I didn’t know her well enough to really open up. But, I did know she was as free-spirited as they came, so I burst out laughing. And no matter what I said, it wasn’t like she had any friends, so who’d she repeat my words to? “Oh, I see. And the downside is...? Help me out.”

She planted her face in my bedspread, giggling so hard the bed shook. Rolling over, she stared at the ceiling. “I know. I mean, I guess I know. Pisses me off, though. I’d do Caine so hard his bones rattled, but I wouldn’t touch Colt even if I could, so that’s an itch I’ll never get to scratch.”

Her remark shouldn’t have been funny, but I laughed so hard, I had to wipe my eye makeup off and start over.
When in Rome, and all that.

I thought I saw headlights flash outside, but by the time I spun in my seat to look, the light was gone. I blew off what I’d seen as just someone headed down the road, but a minute later, two car doors slammed outside in the driveway. Boots pounded the deck stairs.

The truck? Or the motor home?

Mom would’ve started calling my name as soon as she opened the door, wouldn’t she? Or was she being quiet because she’d think Caroline car belonged to a guy?

I heard nothing, but then again, my heart was beating so hard, it nearly jumped out of my chest, waiting for Colt—or Mom—to push my bedroom door open.

The door swung open. Colt’s bare shoulders filled the opening.

“What are you doing here?” I gasped when he curled his hands around my arms and jerked me to my feet.

Caine flopped onto my bed beside Caroline. “Goddamn, Caroline, you shoulda seen her face. See, Macy—that’s Shelby’s mama—she’s got a lot in common with a mama bear, right? So we knew we had to play it cool about not goin’ to Daytona. But if looks could cut a man, Colt would be bleedin’ out, right there in the hall.” He pointed to the spot where Colt had stood when Mom said her goodbyes. My bed shook with his laughter and I couldn’t help but stare. I’d never seen Caine smile before. The expression turned him from attractive to devastatingly gorgeous.

He dropped a hand onto Caroline’s shoulder. “Then we said a couple of things out in the driveway to get Macy all riled up about leavin’ Shelby here by herself, see? By the time Dad stopped for gas, Macy had worried herself into a lather about leavin’ her baby here all alone. Just like we’d hoped, Dad offered to send us back to supervise.” He turned to me. “So, we’re in charge of your fine ass, little sister.” Caroline scowled when he moved his hand, but he shook a finger at me. “And you better do like we say or I’ll spank that ass till it’s as red as your hair.”

My tummy clenched. “That was genius.” I gave Colt an admiring look.

“I have my moments. Besides, he never wanted us to go, ‘cause of Macy, but if he’d said for us to bow out, then she’d have been worried about leaving you here with alone with us.” He kissed me, but set me on my feet. “You look fuckin’ hot, baby. Who cut your hair?”

I ran my fingers through the angled cut. “Caroline did it.”

His eyes narrowed. “So, you were goin’ out, lookin’ fine, while I was out of town, huh? Where were you headed, missy?” I shivered with delight at the jealousy in his tone.

Caroline piped up. “I was gonna take her up to the school parking lot and teach her to drive a stick. Then, we’re meetin’ Brandon at the fairgrounds.”

“Gonna race tonight?” Caine nodded like he already knew her answer.

“Not again?” I blurted. She hadn’t mentioned racing.

“This is legal,” Colt explained. “NHRA—National Hot Rod Association—sanctioned time trials.”

“And not nearly as much fun as it could be, since Brandon can’t afford to put NOS on the Charger yet.” Caroline made a face. “But I can run her in the Pro Stock class, once I get my times.”

“Call that bastard and tell him to get me a number,” Colt demanded. He smiled and rubbed the tip of his nose against mine. “But you’re gonna be the one driving.”

I pulled away so I could see his face better. “Colt, I can’t drive that Corvette. I can’t even see past the hood.”

“Right. That’s why me and Caine will be connecting a couple of hoses and puttin’ oil in the Mustang while Caroline teaches you to shift.”

***

T
he speedometer needle crept past forty. I pushed in the clutch, moved the shifter from first to second, and let the clutch out. The needle soared past fifty-five. Ahead, the white metal building grew too big, too fast. I kept my foot on the gas and shoved in the clutch again. The shifter seemed to hang when I tried to work it into third.

“Go, go!” Caroline cried. “You’re never gonna hit top gear like this. Hit the fuckin’ gas!”

The roaring engine quieted when I hit third at last, but the white line marking the curb seemed right under the nose of the big car. I eased off the gas, moved my foot from the clutch to the brake, and wrenched the wheel to the left. The rear end of the big Challenger slid sideways, skidding... skidding. I clenched my eyes closed, but felt the wheels hit... nothing, thank God. The car slowed to a stop.

I opened my eyes, looking past Caroline to glare at the rivets pinning the siding to the portable classroom.

Driving in traffic might pose a challenge, but I had the basic operation down well enough to drive in a straight line. It was sensing when to shift that eluded me. Or rather, I knew when to shift, I just couldn’t do the operation fast enough. The path she made me travel led from a spot on the side road that led to the school, straight across the entire student parking lot, right to the curb outside the classroom where she said she’d taken Geometry in tenth grade.

Every time, I had to hit the brakes before I got into fourth gear, for fear I’d run the car over the curb and plow through the damn building. 

“One more time, okay?” I eyed the gas hand but she nodded. I gripped the leather-wrapped shifter and peered through the windshield. The distance never changed, of course, but it seemed a little farther each time. Just never far enough.

“You have to romp on the gas harder,” she assured me while I reached the far edge of the lot and spun the wheel, so I could reverse up the little side road.

I glared at the building, my damn nemesis. Common sense said if I did as she instructed, I’d never get stopped in time. The Challenger could hit eighty before I could blink. In this little parking lot, going from zero to eighty—and back to zero—was insanity. Weirdly fun insanity, but insanity all the same.

“You’ll have more distance at the track. This is just teaching you to shift. Ready?”

No
. I nodded.

“Set.” My heart geared up to match the roaring motor. I pressed the gas pedal and clutch.

“Go!”

The white metal building still grew too big, too fast. I was still in third gear when I hit the brakes and swerved left. The rear end slid out at forty-five degree angle I’d grown used to by now. “Argh!” I clenched the wheel and tried my best to shake it loose from the steering column.

Caroline just laughed. “You’ll figure it out. Caine’s the best teacher. He’ll work with you, I’m sure.”

“I thought Colt was the race car driver.” I’d picked that up from overheard conversations between Colt and Dale.

She nodded. “But Caine’s got a way of explaining it. He worked with me and I started winning after that. Brandon just yelled a bunch of technical crap and got me all nervous.” She leaned forward in her seat. “Hey, they’re here.”

Streetlights dotted the campus. The lamps flickered to life although it was still daylight. Over the hum of the Dodge engine, I detected a low, thumping growl before I got turned around and spied the Mustang. Caine followed in his truck.

“God, that car makes me horny.” Caroline’s comment made me laugh for the first time in the hour we’d been at this. “It’s the perfect car for you. I mean...” She trailed off. “Get one of the guys to tell you about Carroll Shelby sometime. He was a legend. That,”—she pointed through the windshield—“is a 1969 Shelby GT500.”

She breathed the words with the same reverence my mom would’ve used to say “Jesus Christ” if she’d seen the deity walking down the street. 

The setting sun set the red paint aglow. They’d reinstalled the hood. Three raised channels ran the length, ending in triangular depressions. I had no idea what the point might be to the design, but those deep points gave the car an aggressive look. On the left-hand side of the black grille, a chrome cobra reared, ready to strike. Colt sat behind the wheel. I eased the Challenger to a stop at his side and rolled the window down.

“How’d she do?” He looked past me to Caroline.

She stuck a thumb in the air. “She got the hang of it real easy. She just ran out of road.”

I made sure to set the emergency brake before I eased the door open and slid out. “So, to the racetrack now?”

“See you there.” Colt waited until I closed the door on the Challenger to open is door and get out. He took my hand and pulled me to the front end of the Mustang. Caroline climbed over the console and sped away. Caine turned the truck motor off and strode around the car to meet us. The look in their eyes made my tummy clench. The empty lot offered a good view of the vehicles traveling along the four-lane highway in front of the high school—and without a doubt, gave those drivers a good view of us. 

“W-hy aren’t we going after her?”

Caine gave me a wolfish smile. “Because we’re goin’ after you.”

I glanced around. “Here?”

Colt pushed my shoulder. “Right fuckin’ here. Spread those legs, Shelby.”

I wasn’t ready. Not this soon. There was too much similarity between this scene and the one the night before. But his eyes wouldn’t let me say no. Truth be told, my body wouldn’t let me say no. I held his gaze until he scowled, then leaned back against the warm metal. Caine stepped between my thighs, sliding his hand under my skirt to rake my panties down my legs.

Every so often, the Mustang’s motor did something that made the whole car shimmy. Colt’s intent gaze did the same to my body. A hard thump started in my clit and I was already wet.

Caine knelt and lifted my legs over his shoulders. Colt leaned over me. “Tell your big brother you want him to lick your pussy till you scream.”

“I want Caine to lick me till I scream.”

He scowled. “Say every dirty word, just like I did.”

I swallowed. “I want my big brother to lick my pussy till I scream.” The words—the way he forced them out of me—made me wetter. I could put aside our relationship status, until one of them brought it up. And every time they did, I felt either more guilt, or more aroused. Or both. With a tip of his head, Colt forced me to repeat the line while I stared into Caine’s eyes.

Caine nipped the inside of one thigh, working his way to my clit. The bites stung, but the jumping nerve endings sent soft echoes of the pain to my clit. When he pressed his tongue into me, I arched off the hood. Colt pressed me flat with a palm to my tummy. “Push up your shirt.”

I complied. My nipples ached for his touch. What he gave me instead was a bite to the tender peak, so hard it brought tears to my eyes. Caine applied a similar nip to the tissue around my clit. He didn’t bite and let go, he clamped the point between his teeth and worked the tender flesh back and forth. I groaned, stuck between pleasure and pain. It hurt like hell, and the pain felt so damn good, I gasped for breath. I squeezed, clamping Caine’s head between my knees.

Colt captured my hand and pressed my palm to his groin. His erection throbbed, thick and monstrous, through the denim. “Beg your big brother to put his finger in your pussy while he eats you out.”

I said the line. Caine’s eyes blazed. He shoved a finger into my wet channel. The touch stung, but he began to fuck in and out of me and the minor pain soon faded. Every dirty, filthy sentence Colt forced from me spurred Caine to greater efforts with his tongue.

I forgot about the cars traveling the highway. I forgot about the degrading events of the night before. I forgot everything except the rasping voice in my ear, the hot cock in my hand, and the man between my legs. And how close I was to coming.

“This life is about speed and sex, Shelby. Gas or ass. Beg your big brother to put his finger in your ass.”

The words stuck in my throat. My arousal ebbed. Didn’t he want any of my firsts to be with him only? I locked my gaze on his face. I silently begged, implored him with my eyes, to take the command back. No matter how I tried, I couldn’t form those words.

Caine lifted his head. “I don’t think she’s feeling you, Colt.”

His hands went to his belt buckle. “She’ll feel me. Turn her ass over.”

I didn’t try to fight Caine, mostly because I thought Colt was joking. I was half-right. He didn’t use his belt, but his hand came down on my bare buttocks with a force that knocked the breath out of me. My brain said to fight, to get free and run, but shock held me immobile.

Caine forced his finger inside my pussy again. “Damn, that’s pink. Do it again. Makes my dick hard.”

Colt made circles with his palm, as though sealing the heat into my skin. Caine began to move in and out of me. I clenched my teeth against the pain and tried to fight the rising pleasure, but the two sensations merged in a crazy way. Colt landed another blow. I shrieked and clamped down around Caine’s finger. By the fourth hard slap, my butt was on fire, but I was so wet, I could hear the squishing sound Caine’s finger made as he drilled into me over the gentle roar of cars whizzing past.