Page 26 of Speed Crush

I feel him grinning, striding across the garage like this is the most normal thing in the world.

“Instructional lap,” he says. “I’ll show you how you can shave off some time.”

He carries me straight to the two-seater karts—the side-by-side kind, usually reserved for junior drivers or terrified parents. But right now? They feel like they’re waiting for trouble.

He sets me down like I’m fragile, and I hate how much I feel it—how strong he is. How easy that is for him. How his forearms are still flexing as he buckles me in.

He’s still riding the high from the race. All confidence, adrenaline, and heat.

Our shoulders bump as he settles in.

His thigh presses against mine—hot, solid, no space between us.

He reaches for the wheel, his arm brushing across my chest like it’s nothing.

But it’s not nothing. Not when my body’s already buzzing from twelve hours of wanting.

And we haven’t even started the engine.

His hands settle over mine on the wheel—warm, steady, too much.

Then he speaks.

“Relax,” he murmurs. “You’re holding on too tight.”

His breath grazes my ear. I feel it everywhere.

My nipples pebble under my shirt, already aching for his mouth.

My pussy throbs and clenches around nothing—wet, ready, pulsing—wanting only one thing,before we even move an inch.

Then the engine roars to life.

Sweet torture!

The vibrations shoot straight up through the seat—into my core, along my spine, blooming heat across my whole body.

I yelp on instinct, and Noah lets out a dark, amused breath.

“You feel that?”

I don’t answer. I can’t.

His voice dips darker. “It hums differently under you. Like it wants to see what you can take.”

This man has no idea what’s he talking about!Or does he?

I grunt in frustration.

We ease into the straightaway—slow at first. Controlled.

Then we shift gears.

The kart jolts forward with a thrust that punches straight into my center—hard, precise, like the machine knows exactly where I need it most.

Heat floods me. My thighs clench. I swear I feel it ripple inside me—each surge like a slow grind against nothing, every nerve tuned to the pitch of him beside me.

It’s obscene how good this feels.

---