Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 87416 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 437(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87416 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 437(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
“Bow to your king, my lady,” I say with a British accent.
Chicks fucking dig that shit. Well, never met one who hasn’t.
She laughs and bends at the waist, leaning over to take my dick into her mouth without wasting another second. I should force her to her knees, but we’re standing in an abandoned gravel parking lot. And I’m not a total fucking dick.
I place my hands behind my head and link my fingers together. Throwing my head back, I look up at the dark sky and groan as she swallows my fucking dick like I’m throwing hundreds at her.
My tongue darts out and runs over my lip ring. “Fuck! Yeah, baby ...”
“Racers, take the stage for the last qualifying round of the night.” Colt Tinsley’s voice rings out through his megaphone from behind us.
Fuck! I shove her head away. She loses her balance and falls to her hands and knees in the gravel. “Grave...” She growls my nickname, her brown eyes glaring up at me.
“Sorry, babe.” I’m hopping on both feet, trying to pull my boxers and jeans up as I round the car and almost trip myself when my shoes slip on the loose gravel. I fall into my Challenger, not even bothering to zip or button my pants before I start it up.
Lucy jumps to her feet, dusting her hands and knees off before stepping back when I rev the engine, shift it into gear, and take off, throwing gravel and dust up in my wake.
I speed over the gravel and onto the asphalt. I pass cars that just exited the once private airport strip.
Making my way up to the front line, I bring my car to a stop and look to my left to see a guy I’ve known for years. Jimmy Trust sits next to me in his new yellow fucking Ferrari. I smirk.
“Two nights in a row?” he asks. Cross and I were here last night before we hit Glass. “Don’t you ever give her a rest?”
“Whores were made to be ridden.” I rub the black dash. “Aren’t you, baby?”
I’ve had the Dodge Challenger SRT Demon for two years now. She’s the fastest production car out on the streets. Only thirty-three hundred were made. Three thousand of those were sold in the US. The other three hundred went to Canada. I had a friend who worked at a Dodge dealership and paid cash for her months in advance to make sure I was guaranteed one. She only comes out when I race her. Other than that, she is kept in the garage.
He snorts. “Just gonna warn ya, Grave. You’re not ready.”
A woman with big fake tits, fake tan, and fake eyelashes walks out onto the tarmac and stands. Our headlights illuminate her and the runway before us. People are lined up on both sides as far as you can see. Some have their cars pulled right up to the line, and they sit on their hoods or their trunks after placing their bets. Drinks in one hand, joints in the other.
“I’m always ready, sweetheart.” I blow him a kiss. “I hear you like having your ass spanked. But what about accessories? Would you prefer rope or handcuffs? Maybe some zip ties? Oh, or a chain. Maybe a little whip action? I have it all.”
His hand tightens on the black steering wheel, and he shifts in his seat.
“Aww, don’t be ashamed, Jimmy. We all have our kinks,” I taunt.
He shakes his head. “You sadistic son of a bitch,” I hear him mutter.
“Racers, are you ready?”
Putting all jokes aside, I turn to look at the half-naked woman who stands before us. She has a green flag in her right hand. She parts her legs in her black heels. Leather straps run all the way up her calves to her thighs. She wears a black leather skirt that barely covers her pussy and a black lace bra. That’s it. She pushes her right hip out, lifting the flag and then bringing it down. I let off the clutch and shift into first. Then second. Then third. I pull away from him right off the bat. I’m the quickest off the start and the fastest all around. No one can beat me. I’m not even sure why they fucking try.
My car vibrates underneath me, the sound of the roaring engine filling the inside. I have the A/C turned off and the windows down, and the wind feels good on my sweaty shirt.
When I cross the finish line, I see people jumping up and down on either side of the lanes. They know to bet on me. I’ve never let them down. Looking in my rearview mirror, I see his lights behind me, and I laugh.
I begin to slow down and make the turn that they have mapped out with orange cones.