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Alejandro leaned down and murmured in my ear “Want to get out of here?” I looked up at him and glanced over at Jason who smiled knowingly. “Go ahead without me. I’ll catch up” he said with a wink.
I looked back at Alejandro and nodded. He glanced around and then grabbed my hand. We ducked out a staff exit near our dark corner and made our escape, laughing the entire way. There was no chance of either of us driving, so we had to flag down a cab to take us back to the hotel. We slipped into the back seat, both trying to keep a straight face as the energy sizzled between us. It would not do to have a cash-strapped cabbie tell the tabloids his tale of a Formula One driver making out with his coworker, but all I wanted was to climb onto Alejandro’s lap and make out like teenagers in the backseat of the car.
Apparently Alejandro had the same thought because his hand ever so softly stroked its way up the outside of my leg. His coat had strategically ended up in the seat between us, shielding us from the cab driver’s view as long as I held perfectly still. But oh could I? As he slid his hand to the inside of my knee and began to make his way up my thigh it took everything in me to continue looking nonchalantly out the window.
I hissed out a short breath as his fingers reached the hem of my dress and dipped to stroke against my fabric covered core. Luckily the cab driver was listening to some talk show, so he didn’t hear me. Then Alejandro’s long fingers pulled aside my panties and curled into me. His thumb began to slide over my clit as he moved one, then two, fingers in and out of me. It was a delicious agony not to move against his hand, to let him torture me rather than take what I so desperately wanted. What I needed.
All too soon we were at the hotel and he slid his hand back away, pausing to wipe his fingers on the inside of my dress. I was trembling all over, and just the friction of moving to open the door nearly pushed me over the edge. I stepped out of the car as Alejandro paid the driver, slipping him a hefty tip that I assumed was on the off chance the man had noticed anything in his back seat.
We walked into the lobby and quickly found an elevator to our floor. I watched our reflection in the door, both of us breathing a little harder and holding perfectly still at opposite ends of the car. We reached our floor, got out, and walked into our room.
As soon as the door latched behind us it was like a bomb went off. We lunged for one another, meeting in a clash of mouths and hands, groping with our clothes. Somehow we were both naked and he pressed me up against the picture window. Thankfully we were high enough that no one could see us as he went to his knees in front of me. He threw one of my legs over his shoulder and pressed his mouth against me, dragging his tongue over my clit. In seconds I was back on that edge, fucking myself with his mouth, desperate for release. His grip on my hips tightened and suddenly I exploded. It was like fireworks had been shot off only they were in my brain. He stayed with me through my orgasm, lapping up my release until I sagged against the window, held up only by his body against mine.
He stood up and wrapped an arm around me, scooping up my legs with his other and carried me into the bedroom. Laying me back on the bed he pressed a firm kiss against my lips, which parted, tasting myself on his tongue. He reached into the bedside drawer and pulled out a foil packet. I watched as he slid the condom over himself, erect and glistening in the low light. Then he climbed onto the bed between my legs and leaned down to kiss me once again. He notched himself against my entrance and then paused, staring down at me with an intensity that made me blush more than anything we had done so far. I pushed against him and he entered me with a gasp, slowly filling me until he was fully seated.
I whispered “Please,” and it was like a damn was broken. He pulled back and thrust into me again, over and over until I felt myself climbing to a second orgasm. I heard a chuckle from the door and we both froze, looking over Alejandro’s shoulder to see Jason standing in the doorway.
“Don’t stop on my account,” he said with gravel in his voice. “I’m just enjoying the show.”
I reached a hand out toward him, “Why don’t you join us?”
His eyes went to Alejandro as if asking for permission. When Alejandro nodded he crossed to the bed, removed his clothes, and knelt on the floor next to us, putting his face level with my body. I was caught off guard as Alejandro began to move again, and then Jason’s mouth was on my breast. He nipped and sucked as he moved his hand over my belly to begin strumming my clit. I gasped and felt his smile against my skin. Alejandro’s dark eyes met mine as he gave one final thrust and then we were both crashing over the edge again. Our cries mingling together, soon joined by Jason’s as he stroked himself to completion.
After we cleaned ourselves up and found ourselves tangled together, snuggled into one of the beds. I couldn’t even tell which room we were in but it didn’t matter. For this night these were my men and I was theirs.This cannot lastmy traterous mind whispered. Maybe not, for now it was bliss.
Chapter Eighteen
Things continued inthis way for the next several races. We would try to avoid one another as much as possible when not putting together content for social media, then we would fly together to the next country for the “convenience” and “team building” (read, mind-blowing high-altitude sex). Upon landing we would swear we were done but inevitably we would find ourselves cuddling in bed by morning.
Our team race results continued to improve as well, with one or both drivers (usually Alejandro) finishing in the points. Nothing exceptional, just a ninth or tenth place here and there, which was a huge improvement for a team that had finished with only a few points in the entire previous season. The excitement was palpable and addictive. Almost as addictive as our private celebrations back in the hotel after we inevitably snuck out early.
I would usually be concerned that someone would figure it out, but as long as we only hooked up out of the country, I rationalized, there was no risk of anyone seeing us enough to put the pieces together. The men were so clearly gone for one another, but somehow on video it played as just the usual bromance that fans had come to expect from the drivers. Oh, but if only the fans knew what we had done with the camera turned off.
We continued like this for two months until it came time for the British Grand Prix. The race was to take place near our home facilities, and so we became the focus of a lot of media coverage. The home race of a team is very important and Smith Racing, while not the largest or flashiest of teams, put a lot of its marketing and schmoozing of investors into this specific weekend. There were bigwigs everywhere, high profile facility tours, and A-list celebrity guests in the paddock. Oh, and we were also the team followed by the big streaming network for their super popular docuseries that week. We knew we could take no chances.
After the Austrian Grand Prix two weeks prior, while we were still recovering in bed following another successful race in which the team placed both ninth and tenth, I brought back up the idea of us stopping.
