Gas or Ass (14 page)

Colt bent to stare into my eyes and raised his hand again.

“Please, pretty please, I want my big brother to stick his finger in my ass,” I choked the words through my sobs.

Caine slid out of my pussy. He pressed the wet digit against my pucker and demanded, “Push back, Shelby. Like you don’t wanna let me in.”

That command was the easiest so far to obey. He thrust past the tight ring of muscle in one shove. The vicious stretch of untried tissues hurt so bad, tears ran down my cheeks. He withdrew, only to thrust into my ass again. 

Colt cupped my cheek, lifting my head off the hood. Something dark and dangerous lit his eyes. “My ass.” I knew it was his hand rubbing circles over the hot handprints that seared my buttocks. I shook uncontrollably. It seemed my entire groin absorbed the heat, meeting the heat coming through the hood. “My pussy. Mine. Whatever I tell you to do with it, you do. Understand, Shelby?”

Caine pulled out of me, but when I cried, “Yes,” he forced his fingers inside me again. Now, two fingers stretched my pussy and one penetrated my ass. With a twisted grin, Colt released my head and returned to massaging my buttocks.

Colt switched to a crooning tone. “You’ve belonged to me since the minute I laid eyes on you. And you know it. Why fight the feeling, baby girl?”

Caine hooked a hand around my hip and pressed a finger to my clit. He set a hard pace. My arousal mingled with my fear, twisting my insides. I was poised between coming and crying.

“I will fuck every part of you, my dirty little sister,” Colt gritted through clenched teeth. “And if I want, so will anyone else. You want to please me, don’t you, Shelby?”

“Yes,” I whispered, shuddering in release as tears scalded my cheeks. Smiling in satisfaction, Colt brought his hand down on my ass again. 

“Fuck, that’s pretty,” Caine groaned, still thrusting into me. “Like goddamn sunrise. Never felt anything this tight or this wet.”

“Thank Caine for putting his finger in your ass.” Colt grinned.

“Thank you for fingering my ass, Caine. Please, big brother, don’t stop.”

“My turn,” Colt demanded. They swapped positions. Caine’s spanking was much harder, but the blows came down so fast, they didn’t seem to hurt as much—or else they faded into one blur of heat. When Caine gripped my butt cheeks, spreading me wide, I felt Colt’s cock slide along my cleft. Someone’s finger moved across my clit in a soft stroke. Too soft. It got me close but I couldn’t get over.

“I need to come,” I protested when they both pulled away. I looked over my shoulder to see Colt tucking himself into his pants. “Don’t stop now.”

“Can’t come before you race, girl.” Caine’s eyes rounded when I looked to him. His grin warned me it was his finger giving my pucker a final tease. “You gotta harness that need and then ride it right across the finish line.” 

***

P
eople littered the grandstands, but I sat alone. Caine and Colt stood on the grass near the track, talking and joking with those who loitered in the big oval. The stench of gasoline and burnt rubber hung in the air. Smoke from spinning tires left a pall over the track. The noise varied from silence, to rock-concert-level, to what I imagined you’d hear inside a jet engine.

Caroline lined the Dodge up time after time, and each time she crossed the finish line, the numbers on the flashing board got lower. Someone scrawled on her windshield with a white grease pencil after each run. Finally, she pulled the car off the infield. I thought she’d come sit with me, but the next time I spied her, she was with Brandon and the guys.

I welcomed the isolation. I could keep Colt in sight and meditate on what was happening. Everything I knew about sex had come from books, television, movies, or gossip. I wasn’t naive, but none of that prepared me for the gale force wind of orgasms so powerful, they shook me to my bones and still hummed inside me hours later. I sensed what Colt did to me was exceptional, on some level. Was it degrading? Absolutely. But it felt as though my DNA was hard-wired to make me helpless to fight my attraction to him. I was intelligent and self-possessed, until he was nearby. Then, I was his.

I ticked through the possible explanations; pheromones, normal curiosity, a desire to explore the forbidden. But I knew it was his dominance that I both hated and craved. His absolute knowledge of my body, and the way he took control of it, softened my will to resist. I didn’t reach any conclusions, other than accepting I was in over my head, and possibly possessed by something I might never fully understand. The thing, whatever it was, had a pre-set expiration date, so why worry?

A wizened old man in a tan windbreaker and a John Deere cap sat down next to me. His grin was friendly, so I smiled. “Lee Haney. You must be Dale Hannah’s new stepdaughter. Shelby, is it?”

“Yes. Nice to meet you.” His wrinkled hand felt like paper when he shook mine.

He leaned his elbows on the wooden benches behind us and crossed his ankles. “First time at the track, huh?”

I nodded.

“Well, sugar, if you got questions, I been hangin’ out at racetracks since I was five years old.”

My head spun from wrestling with unanswerable questions, so I asked about the mysterious numbers drawn on the car windshields. He explained dial-ins, which was what I gathered Caroline and Colt were working on tonight. “A driver has to know how long it takes his vehicle to cross the finish line, because they often race slower or faster cars. The faster one’s handicapped at the start line. Now, part of that time’s determined by the car, but the rest—”

Colt had the Mustang on the start line now. I watched the light tree system count down to green. When the car shot forward, the front tires lifted off the ground. Those moments riding with Caroline were vivid in my mind as he rocketed toward the finish line.

I gasped, studying the time that flashed on the big board. His 9.72 seemed nearly impossible, given the forty-six-year age difference between the Mustang and his sister’s Dodge.

Other cars took his place while he and Caine fiddled under the hood. Then he circled the oval and lined up again. My heart flew alongside, and when the 9.41 flashed, I jumped to my feet and clapped.

“I wanna do that,” I confessed to my companion, sitting down a bit too hard on my sore bottom.

The old guy chuckled and patted my knee. “Someone just got bit by the speed bug. My job here’s done, I reckon.” I turned to frown, puzzled by the statement. He jerked his head toward the track. “Caine sent me over. Said he figured you’d have questions.” He tipped the cap on his head. “Nice meetin’ you, Miss Shelby.”

He was halfway to his feet when I stopped him. “One more question?”

“Sure.” He took his seat again.

“Their dad works for NASCAR, right?”

He nodded, but began to smile. “Honey, I know where you’re goin’ with this. See, back in my day, anyone could run in a NASCAR race, if’n he had a car and the entry fee. But NASCAR’s changed a lot. The purses got bigger, but so did the costs. Colt coulda scrapped for sponsors, but he couldn’t afford the kind of engineering team it takes to win nowadays. He had a spot driving for a big team, but I think he made the right decision when he turned that down.” He gestured toward the infield. “Him and Caine rebuilt that car from the ground up. That ain’t no show car. It’s doin’ what it was born to do, which is run like a scalded dog.” He shrugged. “No team, no boss, just his brother, him, and the rush that comes from puttin’ the hammer down. It’s pure.”

“If he’s not doing it for the money, then it must be for love?”

“Exactly.” His brown eyes gleamed with humor. “I know Dale thinks Colt walked away from that spot because he believes Colt’s afraid to rub fenders in a pack of fifty cars, all runnin’ flat-out a two hundred miles an hour, but Dale, well, he’s an oval-track man. He just don’t get the thrill of racin’ in a straight line, is all.”

Down in the infield, Colt pulled the Mustang onto the grass. A different car eased up to the start line. Caine raised the hood again. Colt got out of the car and scanned the grandstands until he caught sight of us. He and my new buddy exchanged a wave. He began jogging in our direction. My breath caught, watching his golden muscles ripple under the lights.

“Takes a smart man to make money to feed his addiction rather than tryin’ to squeeze his money from his addiction,” my friend confided. “Ain’t got nothin’ to do with fear.”

I grasped what the old man was trying to say. The car Colt built had challenged Caroline’s fancy new car, and it’s modern engineering. In a race where she had the lower time, he’d get the earlier start—by a mere fraction of a second—and he’d probably beat her.

“Hell of a time you just ran, Colt.”

“Hey, Lee.” Colt drew up at the wall. “Shelby bored to tears yet?”

Lee chuckled and cut a look toward me. “Somethin’ tells me that while she was sittin’ here, some gasoline done seeped into her blood.”

Colt raised his brows. “Is that so?”

I nodded eagerly, swept away by the smile my agreement earned me.

“Might as well see if we’re gonna keep her in the family. I’ll ask Mason if he’s willin’ to hang around, if that’s okay?”

He leaned back and propped his elbows on the bench behind ours. “I don’t mind leavin’ the track open a bit, since it’s you askin’.”

Only Caine, Colt, Caroline, and Brandon remained in the infield when Colt led me to the Mustang. I had a sense of what he’d invested in the old car now. I took getting behind the wheel more seriously than I’d likely have done, had I driven the car before my chat with Lee.

Caine leaned in from one side, Colt from the other. They pointed out each gauge and told me what it measured. I adjusted the seat and ran my hands along the top of the wheel. “Just focus on watching the light and getting a clean start,” Caine yelled. “Speed don’t matter if you get disqualified for leaving the line early.”

Colt hooked a finger underneath my chin, turning me to face him. “I’ve already put four cans of gas in this car tonight. You know the rule, right?”

I nodded. “Gas or ass.” When he grinned, I couldn’t resist adding,” I got money for my birthday, you know.”

“And don’t think I won’t take it.” He clapped his helmet on my head. “But I’d rather have that sweet ass.”

My first time was a disappointing 17.59. The guys nearly fell over themselves laughing. But I had a sense of the distance now, and had worked out that not all clutches were created equal. Caroline’s clutch worked more smoothly and took less pressure to depress. This one had more... I didn’t know the term, but it was different.

Undaunted, I circled and lined up again. Tuning out their merriment, I eyed the starting lights. When I got green, I knew I’d gotten off the line better. The way my vision blurred everything into a long tunnel was less scary this time, but another fifteen-second run pissed me off.

“One more,” I begged Colt, eyeing the sagging gas gauge with disbelief.

Caine sighed. “Last one, Shelby.” He lifted one of the red gas containers they’d stopped to fill on the way. “Ought to get you two more runs, the way you’re drivin’. After that, we’ll have to tow the damn thing to the closest station.” He swung the can toward Colt. “You put it in. Let me talk to her,” he yelled.

He wedged his shoulders through the window. “Close your eyes.”

I lowered my eyelids. He brushed my nipple and slid his hand down my torso. Unhooking the four-point racing harness between my thighs, he went straight to my clit. Rubbing the nub in a circle, he demanded, “Feel that throb?” I nodded. “Now, remember how it felt when I bit this little button?”

“Yes.” He pressed harder with his finger. The throb between my legs intensified.

“That’s the feeling you’re chasing. This car’s just one big cock, a one-ton, driving piston and you’re ridin’ it. Feel it, Shelby, feel the engine in your pussy. Let your senses tell you when to shift. Let your body fly and your foot will follow on that gas pedal. If you hit ten seconds, it’ll feel like hard foreplay. If you break nine, you’ll come. And if you do, I swear to God, I’ll make Colt lick you clean.”

No wonder Brandon had issues with Caine, if this was how he’d ‘worked with’ Caroline.

He refastened my harness, then slapped the roof. “Now, go! It’s like flyin’ and havin’ sex all at once, if you do it right.”

I loosened my grip on the shifter and depressed the clutch and the gas pedal to the floorboard. The light changed and I let the clutch out. The car leaped forward. With Caine’s words pounding in my head, my pulse raced, and I was too damn horny to hold back. By the halfway point, I’d already worked through all four gears. Nothing left to do but mash the gas. The line flashed by and I pumped the brakes. The big gold numbers said 12.92. I had to gasp for breath as the sensations coursing through my body caught up with the breakneck speed at which they’d hammered me.

I circled to the start line again, determined not to quit until I either earned that orgasmic number nine, or ran out of gas. Brandon and Caroline were seated on Caine’s lowered tailgate. Caroline hooted, then cupped her hands around her mouth. “Go, Shelby. You can do it!”

My confidence level soared, but my time was 14.36 on the next run.

I slapped the wheel in frustration, growing more annoyed when Colt drew his finger across his throat.

I ripped the strap from underneath my chin and slung the helmet into the passenger seat. My legs barely held me when I got out of the car.

Brandon shouted, “Damn, Red, a thirteen-second run? In that car?” My heart soared, then fell, as I realized his words were sarcasm.

Ignoring him, I turned to Caroline and muttered in her ear. “That ‘winner gets head’ rule makes so much more sense now.” She laughed, but I pulled back with a scowl. “I can’t figure out why my last time was so slow.”

“Adrenaline,” Caine explained, slinging gas cans into the back of his truck. “Gave you the shakes. You’ll learn to control it, in time.”

“Let’s go,” Caroline begged. “I’m starving.” She and Brandon slid off the tailgate.

“Not a bad run a’tall, Miss Shelby.”

I whirled to see Lee hobbling in my direction. “Thanks, I guess, but it’s a long damn way from a nine-second run.”