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“Because it’s exciting and fun. I want you to feel the speed and the road underneath you when you’re on a track. There’s nothing like it.”
With an exasperated sigh, she dropped into the low seat. Grabbing the seat belt, she muttered, “You better not get me killed. Otherwise, you’re the one who will have to go to Otisville and tell my father. I promise, you do not want to get him mad, and killing his only daughter will do just that.”
“Noted, baby doll,” I crooned.
She was too fucking adorable when she was irritated. It was one of the reasons I liked to keep her on the edge of an orgasm until she was spitting at me like a wet kitten.
The instant she was buckled in, I revved the engine for her. She let out a little scream and gave me a vicious glare. It was too easy to get her riled up, yet I didn’t bother restraining myself.
Eyeing the interior critically, she begrudgingly admitted, “It is pretty, I’ll give you that.”
I peered down at the ostentatious silver “3B” inscribed in the center of the steering wheel and snorted. “Pretty is not the word I’d use.”
The interior was a symphony of crisp minimalism with organic lines that gave the space warmth. It was a cross between a spaceship and a womb. That didn’t begin to include the bells and whistles that made this one of the most sought-after cars on the planet.
As I turned the steering wheel with the heel of my hand, I said, “It’s nothing short of magnificent.” Much like you. “Pure quality.” Again, you. “But with monstrous horsepower beneath this exquisite shell.” Like your heart, no matter how much you try to hide it.
I knew better than to verbally compare her to a car, but Blue wasn’t just any car; she was a Bugatti, one of the most exquisite hypercars out there, and my lifesaver. Having Jewel in my car was a fantasy come true. Scratch that, fucking her in my car would be a wet dream come true, and I fully intended for it to happen at some point in the near future.
“You know, you’re a man of contradictions,” she said, her fingers lightly caressing the soft leather of her seat. Pride bloomed in my chest. My woman couldn’t help but appreciate the seductive powers of my car. I tuned back to what she was saying.
“Considering how controlling you are, I mean. Upon meeting you, I wouldn’t have guessed that you were into something that centers around risk and speed.”
“That’s what you get for judging a book by its cover,” I teased, then I turned sober. “But seriously, the risk is minimal. It’s not like I do this for a living. I’m a speed demon, but I race for fun. As a kid, I did crazy shit to get that dopamine hit. Don’t know if it’s ADHD or what, but my brain needs that natural high. It settles me. Helps me focus. If I go too long without it, I get antsy. It’s like there’s a buildup of pressure, and I need to let off steam. Once I get my fix, I’m good for a while.”
That had to be the most I’d thought about, much less spoken about, my unusual hobbies. And she didn’t even know about the small plane I had in White Plains, just north of the city. That was a revelation for another day. First and foremost, I had to get her hooked on racing. I would have loved to take her to a simple race so she could feel the energy of other cars whizzing by, but I thought it might be too much for her first time, so I reserved the track for the morning. It cost a bit to clear it out on a Sunday, since weekends were a big draw for racers and spectators alike, but it was worth the price to ease Jewel into the sport.
I turned onto the West Side Highway, going northbound out of the city, and activated the app to alert me to various police speed traps. Zooming in between cars, we jetted along the Hudson River with the Palisades to our left. I gave her a little taste of going fast when we drove through patches of light traffic. Her gasps and little squeals of delight as the vibration mounted with each tap of the throttle delighted me. My family would have nothing to do with racing. Only Tasa used to ride with me, but she always preferred my bike, so I raced on my own.
With one hand firmly on the steering wheel, my other unbuttoned her pants and slipped down to find her pussy. I whiled the time away by playing with her until she was begging me to come. Not able to wait, I turned off into a curve in the road. It was too much to maneuver my big body in the small space to get my tongue on her pussy. Since I wasn’t going to bounce her on my dick on the side of a highway, I pulled up her T-shirt and exposed her breasts so I could feast on them while I thrust two fingers inside her cunt. My tongue flicked at her beaded nipple in tandem with the thrusts of my fingers. I’d prepped her long enough that she only needed a little toggling of her clit, and she shot off the seat with a throaty scream. Her body went limp, and I caressed her pussy until she was ready to resume our trip.
By the time we reached the racetrack, I was thrumming with the familiar expectation of letting loose on the tarmac. I loved the familiar odor of gasoline and burnt rubber that clung to every raceway. We were waved through to the pit stop, where one guy from my crew checked the car. There wasn’t much need, since we were going on a cold track. When we were ready, I handed Jewel her helmet and put mine on.
Then we rolled to the starting line.
Her eyes darted to mine. I gave her thigh a comforting squeeze, returned my hands to nine and three on the wheel, and we were off. I started slow, for me, but like always, from the first moment I pulled away, reality was obliterated. The trivial worries and irritations of life evaporated.
The wheels spun, the engine purred, and—the whole world exploded. As usual, my stomach flipped. My insides were thrown about as Blue rocketed us forward. It felt like time and space were squeezed into a small capsule…and then tossed out the window. Sprinting across the asphalt, I turned around the first corner. It was sublime. The closest thing to reaching heaven.
Glancing to my right, I saw Jewel, hands clenched tight around the seat, mouth frozen in a permanent O. Her chocolate-brown tresses whipped to her right, the tips slapping against the metal window frame. Her faceted amber eyes were on fire. A harsh burn of fierce pride ripped through me. She loved it. Just like me. I knew a religious experience when I saw one, and this was as close to spiritual ecstasy as one got. I knew because I’d had the same conversion.
I had but a second, and then my sharp focus was back on my ride. Angling properly, I rolled on the throttle to zip around corners, and then we were back around for a second loop. I gave her a few more laps, reaching a comfortable speed of 190 mph—nothing too crazy, just enough to get through the S-shaped chicane turns.
After flashing by the start/finish line for the fifth time, I backed off the throttle. We finished the remaining loop, and I pulled into the pit stop lane. When I turned to Jewel, I found her shaking, adrenaline coursing through her veins.
My heart lurched. I grabbed her hands and called out to snap her back to reality, “Jewel, Jewel.”
A thread of worry weaved its way into my heart. What if she didn’t like it? What if she was in shock?
“How was it?”
Her glorious eyes, lit like two bonfires, turned on me, and she rattled out a breath. “Th-that was incredible.”
I broke into a grin. There was not a shred of doubt in my mind. This woman was made for me.
“We were one,” she rasped.
One with the car. I knew exactly what she meant.
