Dirt Driven (Racing on the Edge Book 11) Page 6

  Rager didn’t budge but his eyes shifted to Willie. “The movie with Demi Moore and Woody Harrelson?”

  Willie nodded, his brow furrowed in concentration at me. “Yeah, that movie.”

  Casten spun around the other side of me, grabbing my hands to make me dance the last chorus with him.

  Rager stared at him, blank faced. “Probably. Why?”

  Shrugging, Willie pulled out his wallet. “Well if I was to offer—”

  Knowing where he was going with that one, Rager scowled and shoved him back into the side of the hauler. “Fuck you,” he deadpanned, blinking slowly at him. “You couldn’t pay me all the money in the world for that.”

  Willie laughed, picking himself up off the ground. “I’m just throwing it out there.”

  “Yeah, well, stop. Don’t ever think about that again.”

  I caught on to what he was referring to. Willie had a crush on me, and had since I turned eighteen and became legal. Never happening. Ever.

  “I should try out for Magic Mike.”

  “Keep your day job,” I teased, smacking Casten’s face.

  He caught my hand and twirled me around, wiping the sweat from his face on mine. Caden surfaced from the parking lot, handing Rager the keys to the merchandise hauler. He too looked exhausted. “Hey, man, you’re parked by boss man’s rig. I hooked it back up. We’re headed up the street to the truck stop since they don’t allow parking here.”

  “It’s about a mile up the road, right?” Rager asked, pocketing the keys.

  “Yeah, turn left at the stop light and it’s on the left-hand side of the road. Axel said there’s eight spots.”

  Rager nodded, raising the door to the car hauler as Tommy, Willie, and Lane exited. We’d been up all night fixing what Easton had broken and finally, we could go to bed. But judging by the expression my husband wore, I had a feeling I wasn’t getting any sleep. At least not until he was done with me.

  His eyes drifted to Lane. “We good?”

  “Yep.” Lane patted his shoulder. “Get some sleep.”

  Sleep? Ha. Like he had that in mind.

  ONCE THE GUYS were finished up for the night, Rager and I went up the road to the truck stop and parked next to Lane and Bailey. Quietly, we moved to our room in the back, careful not to wake the kids. Or Rosa who was sound asleep on the couch. Why she hadn’t stayed with Tommy tonight wasn’t a surprise. Believe it or not, they’re married, yet rarely sleep in the same room. And judging by the noises that come from both of them, you would understand. It’s like the battle of who can snore louder.

  “What’s that howling noise?” Rager asked, tossing his shirt on the bed.

  I closed the door to our room in the back, locking it. “Rosa. She snores.”

  “Sounds like a damn train.”

  “It’s because of her our kids can sleep through just about anything.”

  “True,” he noted, pulling the blanket back on the bed. Not only was his face still banged up from the fight with Easton in the pits, he looked exhausted. Mentally and physically. That’s what an eighty-race schedule in eight months did to you.

  “You’re not really going to sleep yet, are you?” he asked when I rolled over to set my phone on the charger, his hands cupping both my ass cheeks and yanking me flush against him.

  “It’s almost five in the morning. We should get sleep at some point.”

  “I’ll make it quick,” Rager panted against my neck, his body trembling with pent-up need. “Or I can suck your pussy until you have a hickey.”

  Told you he didn’t want to sleep. And then I thought to myself, yeah, I’m tired and the kids will be up soon, but it probably would be quick. Being on the road with four kids and a nanny who wanted to see your husband’s junk didn’t lend well to time alone. Or sex.

  Ever tried having sex in a motor home with other people in it? People you didn’t want knowing you were having sex?

  Doesn’t work. The damn thing shakes and it was obvious. Our kids didn’t know any different, but Rosa, any ounce of movement and she knew. For that reason, it’d been almost a week since we had sex and for Rager and me, it might as well have been a month.

  I smiled when his mouth found mine. “You know it’s going to wake them up.”

  “They sleep through Rosa snoring.” Drawing back, he stared at me like I’d lost my mind. “How will a little movement wake them?”

  “You know what I mean. We’ve tried this before.”

  He knew exactly what I meant. We’d tried to have sex many times in the middle of the night but Pace, or Rosa, always woke up and wanted to know why the motor home was moving. Last time Rosa sat outside our locked door and asked for lap-by-lap commentary. Rager wasn’t impressed. And clearly, by the distant expression he wore now, he too remembered.

  “Fuck, fine.” His voice changed from annoyed to commanding in the blink of an eye. “Let me get you off then.” Without words, he rolled off me and to the side. Before I could tell him maybe that wasn’t even a good idea, he slipped his hand inside my shorts and I couldn’t think of a reason why it wasn’t a good idea.

  Rolling us on the bed, my back rested against his chest, his fingers rubbed my clit back and forth, his thumb pressing down on the hood. As a shuddered breath shook through me, the bed squeaked and shifted. “You’re so goddamn good at this.”

  His breath hitched, his hips raising up so that his erection was firmly between my ass cheeks. “Which is why you should let me fuck this greedy pussy of yours. I’m even better with my dick.”

  Taking a firm grip on my hip, and the other remaining between my legs, Rager took control of the situation. His middle fingers worked the inside line, and his thumb, the cushion, if you will. Let me tell you, he had fast time for sure. If anyone could set quick time to an orgasm, it was my husband.

  “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.

&nbs
p; 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.

  Mine?

  For months I had gone on believing she’d been sleeping with both of us, but it was then, the very second our eyes met that I knew that hadn’t been the case. Not with Arie. So why did I have this anxiousness now?

  Beside me, Bristol curled herself into the crook between my arm and chest, much like her mother does at night. I pressed my lips to her forehead. “You smell like pancakes.”

  She smiled up at me, syrup on her cheeks and in her hair. “Mama made them.”

  “Oh yeah?” I tickled her sides and ribs. “Did you save me some?”

  She squirmed and tried her hardest to wiggle out of my grasp, but I wrapped my arms around her chest and held her arms down at her sides. “Nope. I ate ’em all.”

  “Whaaaat?” My jaw dropped open, my scruff hitting her shoulder. “You didn’t!”

  “Daddy, let go!” she shrieked, struggling to get loose as her laughter filled through the room.

  Burying my head in her hair, I held tighter. “You little pancake monster. Give me them.”

  “Never!” she yelled between giggles. “Pace! Help me! Daddy got me!”

  Soon I had all three boys on the bed trying to wrestle their sister loose. If there was one thing my little Bristol Bear had going for her, it was the help of her brothers. They would do anything for her. Even Hudson, at only two years old, he would straight up headbutt your ball sac to protect her. Ask Tommy. He stole Bristol’s bike to get a rise out of our sweet girl and Hudson went for the closest thing to him. Which happened to be a tire iron and nailed Tommy between the legs.

  On top of me, Pace dug his elbow into my stomach, Knox smacked the side of my face, and Hudson bit my shoulder. “Let her go!” Pace screamed.

  “Arie!” I yelled as Hudson took a handful of my hair, all four of them laughing so hard they could barely catch their breaths. “They got me.”

  She came around the corner and while I couldn’t see her, with Hudson sitting on my head, I heard her laughter too. This was why I loved this life we had now. Sure, I didn’t get to fuck my wife as often as I wanted, but we had our kids with us every day and showing them what life had to offer.

  And then I took a knee to the balls and regretted everything I just said. Taking the pillow beside me, I smashed it over my face and groaned, bringing my knees up. “Fuuuuck.” I saw stars. Not even joking. My fucking face was beet red and I wanted to scream out loud.

  “Okay, crazies, let’s let Daddy have a minute,” Arie urged, laughter on her lips.

  “Daddy?” Hudson ripped the pillow off my face and then hit me with it. “Ouch?”

  I couldn’t speak to answer him. Babies are dicks.

  Arie took him off the bed. “You have an autograph session in about fifty minutes.”

  I curled into the pillow so rudely taken from my face. “Where?”

  “The merchandise trailer. You, Caden, and Dad.” Arie’s eyes lifted from her cell phone as Hudson hung off her hip. “Axel and Casten already did theirs.”

  We found that most days Casten and I weren’t allowed to do autograph sessions together. If you knew Casten, you understood why nobody wanted to stand next to him in front of fans. He once offered me up on a date with a dude.

  “Can you change him for me? I need to clean up and then I have to meet with Jerry and my mom about the schedule changes for Calistoga and Chico.”

  Nodding, I took Hudson from her arms, only to have him start crying and telling me no every time I tried to change his diaper. “Listen, boy,” I said firmly, trying to make him listen to me. “I don’t like changing your diaper any more than you like having it done. So you either learn to use the toilet, or we do this.” I wanted to add, stop fucking up my sex life, but it was because of that sex life we had this kid.

  He frowned, and though I know the little shit knew exactly what I was telling him, he acted as if I wasn’t making any sense to him. Squirming around on the bed, he kicked, screamed, and nearly drop-kicked my throat, but I got his diaper changed—without him peeing on me like he usually did.

  Arie frowned when he came running out of our bedroom in only his diaper. “Aren’t you going to put his clothes back on?” I stared at her, confused. She didn’t tell me that part. She said change him, and I did. Her eyes dragged down my body, hunger in her stare. “And yours?”

  Right. I still hadn’t put on any clothes. At least I had my boxer briefs on, but still. Naked for the most part.

  Rosa, who was sitting on the lounge chair next to the door, smiled at me. “I don’t think you need to put on clothes.”

  Of course she didn’t. Turning around, I made my way back into the bedroom to get dressed. Arie was waiting for me outside the motor home, the kids heading inside Sway and Jameson’s motor home parked on the other side of ours. We moved from the parking lot of the truck stop to the track at noon. I took a much-needed nap, but it wasn’t doing anything for my annoyance this morning.

  Especially when I saw my wife wearing jean shorts and a tank top falling off her shoulders. I glared at her for tempting me with that curve of her neck and that ass I wanted to grab a handful of even though her dad was walking toward us.

 
; I held her stare for a long beat as she stood there. “Why are you glaring at me?” she asked, looking at me like I’d lost my mind.

  I shrugged and righted my JAR Racing hat. “You left me hanging.”

  “I’m sorry.” Her cheeks flushed, her eyes on her dad. “I asked if you wanted to finish. And you said no.”

  I didn’t get a chance to say anything before Jameson approached on a four-wheeler. Smiling, he nodded to Arie who took off on it toward the pits. Jameson stood next to me. “Ready?”

  I walked with him toward merchandise trailers lined up next to the front gates of Thunderbowl Raceway. The afternoon sun warmed the back of my neck, the sounds of torque wrenches and impact guns filling the silence between us. These days, my mind had been elsewhere, and I think Jameson understood. He’d been where I was now—on a losing streak so far this year. Through the pit lane speakers, I could hear “Ladies and Gentlemen” by Salvia and smiled when I noticed Gray rocking out to it outside Casten’s merchandise trailer. Only she was on the damn roof. A place all the older kids loved to climb on. They hung out on the race haulers during the races and thought they could climb on top of everything after that.

  Jameson smiled up at her, standing near the hitch with his hands on his hips. “Gray, get down.”

  Peeking over the edge, she frowned. “Why?”

  “Because it’s dangerous.” She offered him a glare and I knew exactly where this was going. “Get down,” he snapped, and she was scrambling down the ladder a second later.

  She didn’t say a word as she stomped away back to the motor homes.

  Jameson shook his head, laughter on his lips. And then he eyed me when I leaned against the side of my merchandise trailer, wishing I hadn’t agreed to sign autographs this morning. “What’s wrong?”

  I shrugged. “Tired.”

  “Did Lane and Jensen get the car repaired okay?”

  “Yeah. Took them until four in the morning but we got it. Caden, Tommy, and Zac helped us out.”

  He smiled, and I knew it was because the team had been working together. “How’s Jensen working out?”