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I scowl at him. He’s not taking this seriously enough for my liking. He has to understand just how much trust I put in him, and the fine line he’s walking of giving Ella an unforgettable thrill and keeping her safe. I tower over him and put my “do not fuck with me” expression on my face.
“You have precious cargo on board. Make sure you bring her back unharmed and happy,” I order, my voice cold as ice. I don’t have to add “or else.” Carlos’s face suggests he’s received the message.
He’s a shade paler than when he entered the garage and swallows hard. “Of course,” he replies and scurries away. The star of many races isn’t used to people not licking his boots.
A noise behind me makes me turn around, and my eyes lock onto Ella, strutting out in racing gear. And fuck, she looks hot.
Her suit is half hanging over her hips and the white undershirt clings to her every curve. Her breasts are round and full and look spectacular. My mouth waters at the sight, and my dick stands to attention.
All I want to do is turn her around, march her back into that room, and ravish her.
Her long blonde hair is in a plait over her shoulder, and she’s wearing a Ferrari cap. With a helmet under her arm and gloves in hand, she walks to me with confident strides, her face beaming with excitement.
“Princess, you look absolutely edible.” I sneak my arm around her waist and pull her to me.
Ella throws her arms around my neck and pecks me on the cheek. “Thank you. This is incredible… a dream come true.” She rests her head against my chin, and I kiss her forehead tenderly.
“I want to make all your dreams come true.”
She looks at me with her big blue eyes, and I get the distinct impression she wants to add to that comment. But she stays silent, and I take her hand and pull her into the little room where Carlos is. “Come, I want you to meet your driver.”
When she realizes who’s sitting at the table in the break room, she stops in her tracks. “You’re shitting me, right?!” she exclaims in shock.
“Nope, Carlos Rosales, this season’s number one driver will be yours for three laps.”
I squeeze her hand as I take in all her reactions. Seeing her so happy and excited gives me joy like nothing I’ve experienced in a long time… Well, other than being buried deep inside her.
Fuck, I need her!
Thank God, her resistance is melting. It won’t be long now before I have her back in my arms and under me. That day can’t come soon enough.
For now, I delight in seeing the stress and anguish wiped from her face, the ugly events forgotten. I just wish it could be for longer than just an afternoon.
Carlos approaches Ella with a smile. She wipes her hand on her suit before stretching it out to greet the racing ace. He takes it and pulls her closer to kiss both her cheeks. The growl in my throat is automatic. I don’t like anyone getting too close to her… celebrity or not.
Ella didn’t notice and is quickly engaged in a conversation with the Argentinian. He runs her through the proceedings and soon they make their way back to the pit bay.
A female assistant helps Ella pull up her fireproof suit, and after she puts her helmet on, she attaches the head and neck support. The HANS is supposed to protect the vertebrae in case of a collision, but she better not need it or Carlos is a dead man.
Ella climbs into the backseat. She looks squashed and so tiny in there. “Good thing I’m not claustrophobic,” she mutters.
“Have fun, princess,” I say, leaning down to kiss her nose before lowering her visor.
Carlos starts the engine, and it roars to life like an angry dragon.
Soon the car zooms out of the garage and down pit lane, joining the circuit and quickly gaining speed.
Someone hands me a headset as I watch the car on the monitors. They show the track and the onboard cameras for Carlos and Ella. I made sure she got the full set up, recording every moment of her adventure. I can’t see my angel’s face, but it’s like I can sense the adrenaline coursing through her body.
The stands vibrate as the car flies by. Lap one is complete, and I let out a long breath. Having her out there at high speed is more nerve-racking than I would have thought.
Why did I think this was a good idea?
The second lap is even faster than the first, and I hear Ella holler with glee, bringing a smile to my face. How can a minute and a half seem like an eternity, though?
I’m glad when they start on the last lap. Carlos rockets down a long straight, but brakes too late to take the chicane. The car drifts and the back breaks out, hitting the gravel and losing traction. It all happens so fast, but it’s like time stops.
The car spins in a cloud of dust, spraying gravel everywhere. My heart stops.
