Page 20 of Dirt Driven

“That’s it,” he cooed, lifting his hips into my ass. Grinding, pulling, pushing, anything to create friction for not only himself, but me. A soft grunt rumbled through him, his feet flat on our mattress as he once again raised his hips up to meet mine. Sucking in a breath, he worked his fingers faster. The base of my spine tingled and the backs of my legs trembled. Fuck. I needed him to make me come. His dark hair falling against my face tickled my nose. “I can smell your pussy and I need to be inside it.”

Straightening my legs, I held onto his arm as if it was a lifeline when I came. Probably looked ridiculous, but the relief was needed for sure.

My body hadn’t completely relaxed when his lips crashed into the arch of my neck, sucking, biting, anything to get his point across. It had been too long for him. I rolled my head back against his shoulder and whispered in his ear, “Can you be quiet?”

“I am,” he snapped, capturing a mouthful of my tender skin. “You’re the one moaning.”

“I meant to fuck me.” I yanked on his wrist and rolled off him in the same motion. He rolled too, holding me to his chest on our sides. “And I’m not moaning. I’m fucking breathing.”

“Baby, I know what your moan sounds like. And that was a moan.” He brought his hand to my mouth and the other one I lay on wrapped around my throat. “Suck.”

He had a thing for making me do this. Sucking on his fingers after he’d made me come. I didn’t know when it started, or why, but I obliged every time. Parting my lips, I tasted his fingers. A sweet combination of me, and the grease from the engine.

I needed him inside me with a passion even I didn’t understand, but it probably had something to do with us not being able to. It was like a forbidden act we couldn’t complete without waking up the kids. But exhilarating at the same time. The blinds beside my head rocked with each motion, a tapping heard over the air conditioner and the humming generators.

His ragged breath hit the nape of my neck. “Fuck, this is torture.” He moaned into my ear, his voice thick with lust. His throat bobbed. “Fucking torture.”

“I’m not trying to torture you.” I slanted my chin up and kept my eyes on our bedroom door.

His forehead hit my shoulder, his breaths deep and heavy. “Fuck. Let me stick it in. I won’t even move. Please, baby,” he cried. No tears, but dude was straight up begging me for this and who was I to deny him? I couldn’t. Not Rager.

He made his way between my legs, the head of his dick was at my entrance and I’d convinced myself we would be quiet.

Right?Right.

Just as he pushed forward, a cry shrieked through the motor home. “Mama!”

My eyes snapped to the clock next to our bed. 5:00 a.m. Without fail, Hudson always woke up at this time.

“Goddamn it,” Rager groaned, rolling onto his back.

Sitting up, I laid my hand on his stomach. “How quick can you be?”

He lifted his head, his thick dark eyebrows pulled together. “Not that quick. And I can’t with him crying.”

There was something about a baby crying that took the romance out of it. Looked like it was going to be another rough day.

Encoder – Feedback device that utilizes an optical source and sensor to provide velocity and position information in the form of a digital signal; not readily adaptable to different environments.

THUNDERBOWL RACEWAY

TULARE, CALIFORNIA

Lying awake, I stared at the ceiling trying to remember what my lap times were the last time I raced at Thunderbowl. I could hear Bristol’s footsteps before I saw her head peek over the side. Unlike our rowdy boys, Bristol, our only daughter, had a softness about her. From her light walk, the sweetness of her voice and those pretty green eyes that mirrored her mama’s.

My smile formed when I felt the bed dip and her little grunt as she tried to climb up on her own. She’d turned four last month, but getting on our bed had been hard for her. Leaning over, I rolled onto my side and pulled her up onto my chest. “Hey, princess.”

Her dark curls fell into her eyes. Reaching up, she pushed them away. “Hi, Daddy.”

Daddy. That word still got to me. Especially after last night when I asked if Arie still thought of Easton. Like it or not, I would always have a fear that she wanted him back.

Staring at Bristol, I thought about the moment Arie told me the baby was mine. Little did we know we were having twins at the time, but I could distinctly recall the way my heart kicked into overdrive.

“Can we talk?” she asked, her words mumbled.

I laughed, tossing the chainsaw at my feet and kicking the log out of my way. I didn’t have time for this crap with Arie today. And honestly, I was fucking tired of having it. This shit where she was with him but teasing me, I was done with it. I didn’t want any part of it anymore. “Yeah, sure, as long we actually fucking talk. I’m tired of this shit where we avoid everything we’re supposed to say.”

“The baby isn’t Easton’s. It’s yours.” Her words hit me like a bullet to the chest.

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