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Authors: Chloe Plume

BOOK: Rev
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“Alright, alright.” Rev beamed. “Derek over here runs all the stuff I don’t understand. The way he re-flashes the ECU in a car, you wouldn’t even know what the hell you’re driving. Best race tuner, hands down.”

“That and other things,” Derek acknowledged, pressing his frameless square lenses up his long, prominent nose.

“And these two clowns,” Rev began, motioning to two almost identical looking tall blonde crew-cut guys, “these guys know even more about the mechanics of a car than even I do. Real gear-heads. Stefan and Adrian—meet Winter.  They’re from Norway or something, originally.”

“Actually, Denmark,” they said in unison as I shook their hands.

“Same thing,” Rev quipped. He shrugged. “Known these guys for years and I’m always forgetting things. Like whose who—couldn’t tell them apart if my life depended on it.”

“Is good,” either Stefan or Adrian noted. They crossed their arms and leaned back against the huge mobile tool chest to the side of the car. They even dressed the same: black shoes, dark skinny jeans, and black t-shirts. Minimalists through and through.

“And finally…” Rev looked around. “Oh, there he is.” He walked over to a man bent over a laptop, jotting notes with one hand while the other tapped furiously at the keyboard. “This is, both literally and figuratively, the man with the plan.”

“Cruz.” He raised his hand as I approached, we exchanged a quick handshake, and he resumed his intense scanning of the laptop screen.”

“That’s his actual name, by the way,” Rev noted.

“Instead of just shortening your name in an effort to connote motor racing enthusiasm?” I joked.

Rev raised his eyebrows sarcastically. “Haha… Well, I’ll tell you this. Cruz is the best damn driver I’ve come across, bar none. Taught me everything I know back when I used to ditch school and come out to practice my drifts and hairpins.”

“Well, good thing you turned out to be a better driver than a student.” Finally Cruz stood up and put his hand on Rev’s shoulder.

He was a big guy. Taller than Rev, older too, with a large heavyset jaw and weathered features. He spoke calmly and with authority. You could tell he was a mentor to Rev. You could also tell he’d been through a lot. There was a noticeable twitching in both his hands.

“Not as good as you were,” Rev said enthusiastically. “Shit, you were at the top of the game in rally and big-time motorway racing. Came out in front of guys with tons of money and corporate teams. All I do is this off-in-the-desert shit.”

Cruz tilted his head thoughtfully. “I also overdid it too early. I got reckless, put too much power into my oversteer, and suddenly my damn hands don’t work too well. One turn. That’s all it took.”

“You could still beat half the guys out here,” Rev declared.

“That doesn’t mean the same thing when you used to be able to beat the other half too. You’ve got to know when to move on.”

Rev bent his head and acknowledged what Cruz said with a short moment of silence. He then turned to look over some of the notes on the small foldable table at which Cruz was working. “Well, you’re still a damn tactical genius.” He patted Cruz on the shoulder and turned to me. “Not only does he dissect and analyze every inch of a track, he reads into every detail of every driver, car, and team out there. Sometimes I think we’re all playing checkers, and Cruz over here—well, he’s playing chess.”

Cruz shook his head. “Alright there chatty cathy, time to get going.” He handed Rev a small piece of blue plastic and Rev put it in his ear. “Everything’s synched up with the car’s signal, I double checked. This isn’t rally, so I won’t be in your ear every second. But there’s some tricky turn-ins and apex points we have to nail.”

“Alright, alright.” Rev put his arm around me and we walked to his car. He opened the door and fumbled in the center console before retrieving a pair of sunglasses. “What do you say we get together after the race?” he asked, as if he were an old friend I hadn’t seen in a while, instead of the stranger who’d fucked me senseless just last night.

“Only if you win,” I teased.

Rev smiled. “If it means another round of what we did last night, I’ll most certainly have to.”

He did some light stretches before jumping into the car, crossing each arm over his chest and twisting. I watched his thick muscles tense against his sleeves and his abs ripple under the thin fabric of his fitted shirt.

I wanted those strong arms pinning me against the wall again. And that chiseled torso bent over me, flexing with long, deep strokes…

The car roared to life as Rev turned the ignition and slowly rolled away from the tent and towards the track. As he passed me, he comically blew me a kiss.

I shook my head.

What a wise ass.

And hot ass.

Thoughts of Rev’s rock hard rear tensing between my thighs only made me more anxious.

What the hell was I doing getting so obsessed?

There was a reason they called it a one night stand. One damn night. Not hang out during the day and pretend to be in an actual relationship.

Because there was no way this could ever go there.

We were worlds apart. This whole out-in-the-desert, bad boy racer, night of wild abandon thing—well, it was Vegas after all. And I was just visiting.

“So, you’re the latest one.”

A female voice. I turned around. She was one of the girls who were standing around Rev earlier.

She was gorgeous and knew it enough to flaunt it. A short skirt framed her long legs, and a cropped top exposed a perfectly toned midriff. Blonde hair cascaded down her sharply defined, golden tan shoulders.

“I guess every guy wants something—” she hesitated, as if searching for the right word—“
different
once in a while.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Oh, everyone knows Rev Gryffin is going through a phase.” She pursed her face in a look of disdain. “Problems with the family and questioning things right and left. He’s off in crisis mode—and it makes for some interesting decisions.” She eyed me up and down. “Sandra, by the way.”

I exhaled sharply. “Jeez. Well, I’d say pleasure to meet you, but I don’t think that was the intention here…”

She smiled insincerely. “He’ll come back around. Just so you know.”

Just what I need…more drama.

It was yet another reason this needed to remain a fling. Nothing more.

Thankfully, Derek interjected and cut the unenjoyable conversation short. “It was Winter, right? Rev wanted me to make sure you got a seat up in the stands.”

I followed him to the edge of the track and up to a reserved space in the bleachers. “Thanks, by the way. Looks like I’m upsetting things a bit. But you know, Rev and I aren’t—”

“He’s never brought anyone to the track before,” Derek said abruptly. “She was probably just jealous.”

Oh great.

Whatever good sense I had left was telling me to get up and go. But I was glad I took a seat and stayed. As Rev’s burnt orange car pulled up to the line, I felt genuine excitement. And I hadn’t been excited in a long time.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Eight

REV

I shouldn’t have been thinking about her.

Here I was, in my element, tapping the throttle and revving the engine. To my right and left were souped-up vehicles of all kinds, from Italian imports to gutted out Japanese chassis with over $100,000 in modifications. Every single one of them was spitting fiery noise, readying for an aggressive, wild race.

I should have been in the moment, 100%. I needed to win. I needed the money. It’s not like these races paid out all that much; they were mostly for bragging rights. And I still owed quite a bit for the car and all the mods.

But there I was, going through my warm up sequence automatically, my mind drifting off.

Focus. Focus!

The flags went down. Engines roared and tires screeched. I dumped the clutch into 1
st
, throwing all that power straight to the road. Damn flywheels were ceramic and pricey as shit, but two races and they were fried.

When the tires gripped and the car jolted forward, I shifted to second, catching the power band right where I needed it. It was me and a blue Porsche at the front, heading into the first curve. He’d have the advantage when a turn fed into another turn. Had to hand it to the Germans: those things were maneuverable. I’d have the advantage when a curve emptied into a straightaway. Had to hand it to us Americans: the Hemi Hellcat was a beast. So we’d do a little dance, trade places, keep a rhythm, and it’s come down to the end.

“Keep the distance, Rev,” Cruz advised through the earpiece, right on cue. “And watch the banks. A couple of the turns are not as banked as you think, so you’ll need to juice up the over steer.”

The Porsche ran a little too tight at the hairpin ahead and hit the apex of the curve too early. I waited until I was far on the outside and turned wide, setting a late apex. The turn emptied into a straightaway. My gamble paid off. I sacrificed entry for exit. I turned in late, apexed late, and got the car straight and on the power right through the turn.

I blew by the Porsche, which was still accelerating along the lengthy straight. I’d gained some time, but he’d get it back on the short curves up ahead.

Fucking curves…

Now all I could think about was Winter. The image of her naked body flashed through my mind and my cock stiffened. I struggled to keep the blood in my brain where it belonged. But fuck, I couldn’t help but crave the feeling of her tight little hole squeezing my shaft until I felt like my head would explode with agonizing pleasure. Her body was made for my cock. Her pussy was the best I’d ever had.

God damn!

The Porsche whizzed by. I needed to concentrate. I’d never gotten distracted thinking about a girl like that. Then again, I’d never met anyone like her.

The final hairpin was up ahead, followed by a turn and the finish line.

“Rev! The exit isn’t relevant.” Cruz was yelling so loud through the earpiece that it hurt.

Got it. Right, Left, Finish.

Up ahead was a right curve followed immediately by a left curve and a short straight to the finish. By the time I got around the first curve, I’d be turning the opposite way. There wasn’t much to gain in that short distance. I needed to get the power now and carry it into the curve.

“Drive faster Rev!” Cruz screamed.

Yeah, no shit.

I gave the charger’s hemi the full throttle on a juicy power band as I downshifted right before the turn. I hit the brakes as late as I could risk.

I risked a lot. The car almost slid into the stack of tires sitting at the outside of the curve. I practically dive-bombed the apex, hitting early with as much power as possible.

Yeah, I slowed down from braking so hard on the exit. But I was going so fast already that it didn’t even matter. I was at the final turn before I knew it. Before the Porsche knew it.

I screamed past him. He’d gone for the late turn and actually picked up speed coming out of the first curve. Too bad it was straight to the opposite side of the track.

I hit the final turn on the inside and cut straight to the finish line. He hit it on the outside and wasted time steering back into the track.

Fuck yes!

For a moment, as I crossed the line, I felt a serene calmness wash over me. A smart, clean win. It was euphoric.

And then my heart began to pound with the elation of winning.

I love winning. There’s nothing like it.

Except now there was Winter Calloway.

Even a race like this just doesn’t compare.

I needed her pressing against my cock. I wanted those breasts in my hands, back arched, that ass raised up for me. Her body was exhilarating. Nothing would feel better than fucking her senseless.

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Nine

Winter

“You’re going too fast!” I shouted.

Rev just smirked. His hands expertly manipulated the shifter and the wheel while I watched. I couldn’t help but stare at his long, strong fingers. He had beautiful hands. Rough but taken care of. Agile, sinewy hands with short fingernails and strong knuckles, veins visible as he handled the car at 100 mph.

I wanted him to handle me. I’d gotten a taste of what those fingers could do to me in a hurry. I wondered what he could achieve taking his time.

Holy shit!

I covered my head and huddled against the seat as we whizzed past one car and ducked back into the lane, narrowly missing another. “Watch out!”

“I’m an expert, remember?” Rev proclaimed, hitting the throttle as we approached a wide turn.

“An expert lunatic maybe.” My eyes grew wide as I realized he wasn’t slowing down. “Are you crazy?!”

“You said you wanted to take a ride.”

“I hardly had this in mind.”

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