Gas or Ass (9 page)

“Duh.” Caroline retorted from behind the wheel. “Six point two liter Hellcat V8, of course.”

“Yeah,” he drawled. “I see that SRT badge on the grill, and that big ole’ chrome ‘supercharged’ down the side. That’s a whole lotta car for such a little girl.”

The kids here spoke a different language, like Dale. I kept my mouth shut and let the terminology slide over me. I was learning that the internal combustion engine was king in this small city. Just one more reason not to care about anything that happened here.

He whistled, ignoring the blare of horns behind him. “How about a ride?”

I smothered a laugh. The kid was relentless. At my old high school, the pair would’ve existed on separate planes.

“I know you’re young,” Caroline yelled, “but cars don’t run for free, Rusty. Gas or ass, as they say. I got a full tank and the last thing I want is your ass, so keep moving.” She fluttered her fingers out the window. I figured she played to the nearby group of senior girls, but not one looked in our direction or laughed at her putdown.

I hadn’t figured out why Caroline was a pariah. By all rights, she should’ve been a goddess. She said her daddy drove for a NASCAR team and her clothes had the right labels. Was this not NASCAR heaven? Jealousy was the only explanation, but I had bigger issues on my mind.

Undaunted, the young boy cut a grin at me. “Red, did you buy that tank of gas? ‘Cause, if you say no, you’ll make my night.”

“Dirty little pervert.” Caroline raised her middle finger, but it was most likely the honking cars lined up behind him that caused Rusty to hit the accelerator. The tires on his older Honda shrieked when he peeled out of the lot, headed, I presumed, for Hardee’s and another pointless circuit.

A newer model Chevy truck turned in. I squinted. Lights lit the driver’s hair, casting an auburn halo. “Isn’t that your stepbrother?”

Caroline smiled. “Hell, yeah. About time his sorry ass showed up.”

I peered out my lowered side window, shading my eyes from the glare of endless headlights as vehicles rounded the corner. Wrapped in luxurious black leather and carbon fiber, I inhaled the seductive scent of new car and wondered whether to pump Caroline for information about Colt.

Brandon appeared, but to my surprise, he was on foot. His lanky legs were clad in worn denim. His T-shirt bore the logo for Dale’s racing team.

He yanked my door open. “Get out.”

I blinked. His scowl softened and he cocked his head. “The only damn downside to a two-seater. Give me five minutes, Shelby. Then you can get back in.”

Huffing, I slid my feet over the side. This car was almost as difficult to get out of as the Corvette. He drummed his fingers on top of the car, but when I straightened, he grabbed my arm, yanking me aside.

“Hey, baby doll,” he crooned. He slapped one hand on the top of the open door frame and swung his lanky body into my seat. Leaning over the console, he pressed his lips to Caroline’s and slammed the door.

I stared through the dark tint with wide eyes, thinking back to Caroline’s first words to me this morning.
Well, honey, he and my stepbrother are talking about the race this weekend, so I reckon you’d better let me write you a note.

Behind me, a familiar voice sounded. “Damn rednecks.” Someone else shouted, “Must be true, incest
is
best.” Another voice cried, “Disgusting. They’ll burn in hell for that.”

Shock rooted me to the asphalt. Their kiss went on. And on. And on. When he climbed out of the car, even I was breathless. He jerked a thumb at the open door. “Get in. Drag races start in twenty minutes. Your brothers said to bring you along.”

***

C
aroline bounced in the seat and leaned over to turn down the thumping stereo system. She patted the dash. Blue lights circled the dashboard gauges and tinted her face. “He’s got NOS, but we got this guy cold on pure horsepower.” I’d seen every
Fast and Furious
movie to date, so at least I knew that NOS was nitrous oxide. She revved the engine. “Hear that? Seven hundred and seven horses, rarin’ to go.” She hooted out the window. “Let’s do this!”

Her opponent gunned the engine of his Honda and leered. The two engines sounded so different. Caroline’s had a deep-throated growl. His import emitted more of a whine. “You’re going down, Caroline.”

She raised her middle finger. “You wish I would, Bobby.” He looked older than the kids at school, but I thought she was right about the Honda. Surely, his car stood no chance against the beast under me. I’d listened to her chatter enough to know the Dodge Challenger was a throwback to the days when Detroit ruled the automotive world and gasoline was thirty cents a gallon. Seven hundred and seven horsepower had to be twice, if not three times, what the Honda had to offer.

I had no idea what the extra punch from the illegal gas might be, but I absorbed confidence from my new friend. “What do you win?”

“Listen, Shelby, everything in this world is about gas or ass. Loser gives the winner head.”

While I stared, open-mouthed, Caroline reached across me and opened the dash compartment. She shoved a yellow handset into my hands. “This is a two-way radio. If the cops show, you’ll hear about it through this. Your job is to tell me. I’ll cry if this thing gets seized the first night I own it.”

“Seized?”

“The cops confiscate our cars if we get caught drag racing.” She grinned. “The risk is part of the adrenaline rush. You ready?”

I leaned over the console and blinked at the tiny red numbers on the glowing odometer.
113 miles
. The speedometer went to two hundred. Two hundred miles an hour?

How could the reward possibly outweigh the risk?

A girl in a micro mini skirt strutted past the front of the car. She halted on the yellow line between the Honda and the Dodge and lifted a white scarf. “Ready?”

Caroline had carried the conversation on the way out here, talking animatedly about the impending race. I knew the quarter-mile sprint would end at a side road up ahead. Someone would be taking video in case of a close race. This dark stretch of two-lane was lit only by the headlights of the cars lined up to race, but bright strips of neon glowed underneath most of the vehicles lining the wide shoulders.

The huge motor roared and the car gave a short lurch. My stomach followed suit. “Set!” the flag girl cried.

Despite my disappointment that I hadn’t seen Colt or Caine yet, excitement hummed through me.
Winner gets head?
I clutched the radio with one hand and triple-checked my seat belt, then gripped the console with the other.

The flag dropped. The Dodge shot forward, pinning me to the seat. Caroline worked the gears and clutch with the same easy confidence Colt showed this morning. The slender trunks of the surrounding pines blurred as she picked up speed. I glanced out the window. The Honda fell back as the sleek Dodge hurtled down the road.

By the time she hit third gear, the trees blurred into two walls of obsidian. My excitement climbed as the Honda nosed ahead, but Caroline manipulated the gearshift and popped the clutch. The Dodge flew past the other car a second time.

The quarter mile race seemed to last forever, and yet, in a blink, flashes went off like fireworks. She eased off the gas. “Hell, yes!” She pumped her fist as the car slowed. The Honda pulled up beside me. I lowered my window. “I’m looking forward to this.” Caroline jabbed her index finger at the losing driver and giggled.

The Honda fell in behind us. She wheeled into a yet another curving country lane, about another quarter mile beyond the finish line. A big sign advertised houses for sale in a development named Sterling Estates. A wide yellow strip proclaiming, ‘Bank Sale’ had been slapped over the artist’s rendering of a brick Colonial with columns lining the elegant home’s front porch.

The road cut back in the direction we’d come from. The farther we drove, the higher we climbed. Cars lined this road, too. I saw no houses, just scrubby trees and tall weeds. Below, on the start line in the distance, two more cars lined up side by side. The skinny girl dashed to the center line and lifted her scarf.

The narrow road took a hard left and the lane ended in a cul-de-sac. I spied the Corvette at last. Caroline nosed the Dodge to the center of the asphalt circle and killed the engine. Through the windshield, I studied my stepbrothers. Colt leaned against the side of the car, arms crossed over his chest with his fingers pinned under his arms. Caine loitered at his side, holding a bottle of Budweiser.

The Honda pulled up behind the Dodge. Caroline got out of the car, so I did, too. Skipping to the front end, she bent and disappeared from my sight. When she popped into view again, she slung something around her raised index finger. The thing spun off, floating over the hood to land at my feet.

I stared at her bikini underwear. Doors slammed as other people got out of their vehicles. By the time I turned toward Caroline again, she was seated on the hood. The driver of the Honda strode around the front end. A semi-circle of guys formed, but they stood so close to her headlights, I couldn’t make out faces, just shirts and jeans. I thought Caroline and I were the only women.

“Better make her like it. I wanna hear her scream.” The voice came from behind me. I jerked around, recognizing Brandon, mostly by his T-shirt. He moved past me to stand at Caroline’s side. The crowd hooted and jeered as the losing driver went to his knees and bent his head between her thighs. 

Someone grabbed my hand. I looked up into Caine’s dark eyes. “C’mon. You can see better from our spot.” He half-dragged me through the small crowd around the Dodge. When we reached the Corvette, Colt lifted his chin in acknowledgment, but his eyes were riveted to the Challenger.

Caine put his hands on my shoulders. I tried to read his expression, wondering what Colt might’ve told him, but my silent stepbrother turned me to face the Dodge. Before disappointment could set in over the way Colt ignored me, Caine pulled me against him. He rocked his hips from side to side, rubbing his groin against my ass. His shaft grew hard and he ground it against my ass. The image from this morning, when he’d stroked his cock, was as clear to me as the way Caroline writhed.

Didn’t Colt see what Caine was doing? Did he care? I couldn’t help feeling aroused by the scene playing out in front of me. Brandon smiled down at Caroline, and occasionally, he’d kiss her. Her eyes were riveted to his face. 

I studied the man between Caroline’s thighs, trying to figure out what kind of game Colt and Caine were playing. Did they think I was going to be the household toy they passed back and forth?

I thought the burst of wetness soaking my panties was due to the way Caroline moaned.
Yeah, right
.
Dirty little stepsister, indeed.

A single streetlamp at our back illuminated the bobbing head between Caroline’s slender thighs. While I imagined what she felt, Brandon slid his hand under her sweater. The knit clung to the back of his hand, outlining his movements as he toyed with one nipple, then moved to the other.

Caine leaned down to put his mouth close to my ear. “See how much she’s enjoying herself, Shelby? I could love me a woman like that. Just my bad luck that hot piece of ass is Brandon McKenna’s stepsister. He got to her first and he ain’t lettin’ go. Can’t say I blame him. She’s somethin’ special.”

I darted a glance at Colt. He nodded, but said nothing. Did he like that she was bold enough to spread her legs with people watching?

Caroline arched off the hood so high, her belly ring glinted. Her moans carried above the racing engines below. Brandon’s hand never ceased moving, twisting and pulling her nipples. I couldn’t tell what the loser was doing to her, but I imagined Colt doing it to me. I was wet, primed to be touched. Caine nipped my earlobe. “I think you could be like her, if you tried, Shelby. Wanna fuck someone on the hood of Colt’s car tonight?”

Someone? Did he mean him? My heart stuttered to a halt, then redlined. “She’s not fucking. She’s getting head.”

He chuckled. “She’s not fucking
yet
, but she will. She’ll spread her legs like a good girl, because she knows Brandon gets off on watching other guys fuck his woman.” He slid my hair aside and pressed hot lips to the spot below my ear. “I bet you come just from watching her.”

Confusion buzzed in my mind. The throb between my thighs made thinking difficult.

He slid his palm around my side. His fingertips nosed below the waistband of my skirt. “Tell me to touch you, Shelby. I’m so fucking jealous of Colt. Been thinkin’ about putting my fingers in your pussy all damn day.”

Anger surged through me. Colt told him? And now, he stood close enough to touch, but he didn’t care if Caine took his turn? For a smart girl, I’d been stupid. Why would I think he’d declare his undying love just because I let him put his finger in my pussy?

Just as fast, I wondered why it mattered. If Caine had driven me to school this morning, and he’d been the one to say and do the things Colt did, I’d have had sex with him—if what we’d done was sex. I wasn’t sure if I was still a virgin or not, so perhaps what I’d done with Colt wasn’t special. Maybe he wasn’t truly my first. Besides, hadn’t I swapped Caine and Colt in my fantasies like interchangeable parts?

Colt had shown me no respect and I’d done nothing to make him respect me. The first time he asked, I couldn’t get my panties off fast enough. I was a joke to him. He didn’t care if Caine touched me because he didn’t care about me. I was just the little stepsister that’d been foisted on them. Colt toyed with me for sport. Caine hadn’t said three words to me since the night he’d dropped the last cardboard box in my new room, but now he had the nerve to slide his fingers inside my panties and tell me to beg him to touch me?

But they’d both professed admiration for my new friend. She looked so free, so beautiful, so desirable laid out on that hood. No one could doubt she was enjoying herself. The erotic scene made me wet and the pulse between my things made me ache. Why not take Caine up on his offer? It was dark enough that I doubted anyone would see—except Colt. All eyes were riveted to Caroline. Her head whipped from side to side. Her moans grew louder. The guys standing around began to clap. Someone yelled, “Get her off, loser. Make that pussy run with cream.” One or two had moved down the sides of her car, angling for a better view. The streetlight at my back lit their faces. Their eyes gleamed with lust and admiration. I squeezed my thighs together.