Chapter 13

Nix had a grin on his face, his helmet under his arm and leathers unzipped an inch.

I didn’t care for how he radiated when he was happy. I cared that he had fucked up all of our hard work.

I’d waited for his return. His bike had come back nearly an hour ago. During his interviews, where I should have been, I sat and watched everyone leave.

Now, the pit box only had a couple of mechanics getting the bikes ready to be transported to the next track.

“You kissedArabella!” I shrieked as I stormed over to him, pointing a finger at his chest.

“Who?” he asked, still laughing on the high of his win as one of the mechanics clapped his back.

“Arabella!”

Again, he gave me one of those looks that repeated his question, his brow raised, his lips questioning.

“The grid girl!”

His brows went in the opposite direction. “Olivia, your memory is shocking. You told me to kiss her. She’s my ‘girlfriend’, of course—” he said, even using air quote marks.

“Your ‘girlfriend’ is Clara! Clara! Remember?Claaaaara!”

“Who? ”

I turned away from him, unable to look at his stupid face. He was the most infuriating man on the planet. He had to be winding me up.

“Clara! You took a picture together on your Instagram. You kissed her before last week’s race. You mentioned her in your interview! But today, you kissed a different grid girl called Arabella !”

He shrugged a shoulder and went to his bag onCris’ desk. His phone was there waiting for him. “They look the same.”

I could choke, my angry words stuck in my throat because how did this man have the audacity? “Arabellahas a fringe!”

He stopped scrolling through his notifications and looked up at me through his lashes. “And Clara couldn’t cut a fringe?”

“This is… oh my god!” I lifted a trembling hand to my head. I had to be coming down with something. This was a fever dream. “They look nothing alike!Arabellais Hispanic. Clara is Caucasian.”

He didn’t look back down at his phone. “Maybe if you picked a girl I actually liked—”

“You like no one!”

His stare turned angry, brows down, but he said softly, “That’s not true.”

But it was. I’d seen glimpses of relationships with other riders. But Nix’s most tumultuous relationship was with Nix.

“You don’t even like yourself!”

He threw his helmet on the floor with a loud boom. He glared at me as he shouted, “Everyone out! Get out!”

The few mechanics still around all escaped in the time it took me to inhale.

He prowled forward, his steps slow and measured. “I don’t like how you’re trying to run my life, this clean, good-boy image you’re trying to give me. I don’t like who you are trying to turn me into. I like myself plenty. My true self, not thispreppygentleman you’re pushing to the cameras.”

By the time he stopped talking, he was only inches away from me. I had stepped back into one of the metal pillars.

I glanced behind him for any of those cameras because before me was not the gentleman he mentioned. Before me was The True NixonArmas.

All the press were long gone. I should have been, too.

“Do you know how many people refused the job of being your publicist?”

“I don’t care,” he said and, our feet nearly touching, he reached out to pull the lever above my head. The garage doors of the pit box started to veer down, casting us in shadow. The only light was the yellow one onCris’ desk.

He looked down at me as they continued to close, his eyes flickering across my face.

“Well, it was—”

But he shut me up by pressing a finger to my mouth. He’d taken off his gloves.

My whole body tensed. An electric current from his touch ran through my nerves.

“I told you that I don’t care,” he said, his voice thickening with frustration. “I care about the racing, the bikes, the people. I don’t care about me. I don’t care what people think about me,” he corrected.

But I saw through it. Just as I had said, he didn’t even like himself.

He was standing over me, all six foot two of him, and I refused to cower, refused to acknowledge the pity I had for him at that moment .

His anger bore into me through his fiery eyes. Sharp breaths through his nose assaulted my face, making the fly-away hairs of my ponytail flutter.

Something else may have been fluttering, too.

And then—

Then he looked down at my mouth again and pulled his bottom lip into his mouth, letting me see a tiny slither of tongue.

It lasted a second. Not even.

The need .

“Were you— were you going to kiss me?” I spluttered. There was no doubt in my mind.

“Do you want me to?” he asked. My whole vision was him and I couldn’t miss him glance down at my mouth again.

“Yes,” I said and felt my eyes widen at the honesty that escaped me. “Do you?”

He leaned forward, but there was nowhere left for me to go. He placed his forearm above my head. His voice lowered as he said in my ear, “I want to fuck you. Here. On my bike, against this pillar, in my trailer. The sauna. The hotel room from the other month.Cris’ sofa. The shower. The fucking changing room. I want to fuck you.”

The way he said it told me it would be brutal, savage and rough. Just like him.

I needed it. Picturing all of those places, the body I’d seen earlier this week on his story, in the sauna, pressing against me, into me.

I swallowed and he smiled as he ran the tip of his finger so gently along my jaw.

Skimming my neck with his nose, he said, “Every time you’ve pissed me off, all I’ve wanted to do is take you. And you piss me off a lot.”

“I’ll have to piss you off more,” I whispered, trying to keep my voice from shaking. The pillar behind me pressed into my back as he pressed into my front.

He chuckled and the throaty noise ran through me right between my legs. My heart rate picked up. My breath was shallow as the place between my thighs started to pulse.

The leathers were soft under my shaking hands as I pressed them against his chest.

“Don’t,” he begged on a desperate exhale, shaking his head. “I struggle to keep my cock from getting hard around you as it is. When you touch me… well, fuck.”

I pulled my bottom lip into my mouth as I dragged my finger up the zip to his neck, playing with the pull. “And when you touch me ?”

When I glanced up, he was all I could see. Those dark blue eyes staring down at me, his jaw tight. It was his words that kept me staring. “And when I touch you… I’m throbbing. Desperate.”

“Sounds painful,” I said on a breath. “I don’t want you in pain.”

“It’s excruciating,” he murmured against my temple. “It’s too bad I’m in a relationship . I can’t get caught with anyone other thanClaaaara.”

“It’s not real,” I reminded him quickly.

“No, it’s not,” he said, leaning further down and taking my breath. “But my publicist would kill me if I got caught.”

“So don’t get caught,” I told him, my lips brushing his as I spoke.

Then his lips were firmly planted on mine. I wasn’t sure who closed the centimetre of distance, but I was fucking grateful for it. His hands were on the button of my jeans as his mouth took mine. It wasn’t a loving kiss, full of too much tension and anger. Our tongues found each other without warning, as if making up for all the times I had wanted to but not had the nerve. I desperately gripped the sleeves of his leathers to help him undress, uncaring for how urgent I seemed. It didn’t matter; he was frantic himself.

My top was pushed up my chest, my bra undone, the strap falling down my arm as his fingers grabbed the flesh of my breast.

His harsh breaths were in my ear. “I want to fuck you bare,” he begged. “I got tested, I’m clean.”

Nodding, as he pressed kisses down my throat, I said, “Me too. I’m on the pill.”

The starved groan vibrated into my collarbone, all the way down to my pulsing pussy. He’d pulled down my jeans, fingertips running up the lace of my panties as his other hand tangled in my hair.

“No one can know,” I said, unzipping his leathers. “No one.”

He nodded and took my mouth again.

“Just fucking,” I rasped, desperately pulling the leathers off his shoulders. “Just fucking — oh .”

His eyes were intense on mine as I whimpered, his fingers on my clit, having pushed my panties to the side.

Nix wasn’t grinning or glaring. He just watched my expression, my short breaths as he played with me, wetting his lips with his tongue as if starved. “Just fucking,” he agreed. “Like ateambuildingactivity. We build trust.”

“Mmm,” I moaned, head back, enjoying the way his fingertips brushed me .

“You’re so soft, Livid,” he groaned, his voice thick. “You’re so wet and soft.”

Words were beyond me as he ran tight circles against my clit. Through my heavy eyes, I could see his flickering across my face, mouth slightly parted as he watched what he did to me.

“Someone could— could come in,” I managed to croak out.

He pressed his forehead against mine. “Don’t you dare think about any other someone . They won’t.”

When I looked to the door, he grabbed my chin and drew my attention back to him. “Just you. Just me.”

He kissed me hard and I was completely at his mercy as his hand fell from my chin to my throat. I pulled out his cock from his boxers, hard andgirthyin my fist, before pumping away and nearly coming from the grunt he forced into my mouth.

I had to taste his ‘champagne’. I had to please him.

I wanted him at my mercy just as much as I was at his.

Pushing him off, he stepped back, startled until I was on my knees. The cold of the cement floor made the moment all the more real.

Eager, I took his cock in my hand, fisting it just like how I had imagined him in the shower. I took the head of him into my mouth, working it up and down as my hand worked the rest of him.

He grunted, “Fuck, Livid. I could come down your throat so easily.”

In the breath I took, I said, “Do it.”

But he chuckled, gathering my hair around my neck and thrusting slowly into my mouth. “No, no. I’m going to fuck you on my bike.”

I took him further down my throat until I was choking before working him quickly. Until he was swearing in French. Until his hands knotted in my hair and he let himself go, thrusting harder.

“Livid. Livid. I’m trying so hard not to come.”

He stepped back and I pouted, looking up at him through my lashes in anger. He laughed again before taking my hand and pulling me up.

“Bike,” he breathed. “Gonna fuck you on my bike.”

From behind, his hands on my hips, he guided me to his bike. He wasted no time, his calloused hands quickly working on my naked skin as he sat me down on the saddle. He ran his fingers up and down my slit, and my groan was guttural, releasing months of tension as he whispered in my ear, “I can hear and feel how wet you are for me, Livid.”

Then with one hand pinching my nipple, the other teased my pussy with light touches, edging my entrance before dragging back up to my clit.

When his fingers thrust into me, I was no longer holding on to the bike, but to him, clutching his arm that fucked me. “Ni—Nix.”

He knocked my knees apart with his and then pressed his boot on the denim of my jeans. “Step out of them.”

I did, though it took some time to move, to focus on anything but his warm hands on my needy body.

I tested my grip on the bike quickly as his fingers picked up speed inside me and I worried I might collapse under the pleasure.

“Hold on tight,” he ordered, standing over me. “Don’t let go. Fuck, I need you to come on my hand.”

Over my harsh breaths, I nearly missed the clanging outside of the garage door.

“Why is this closed?” one of the mechanics asked. “We haven’t got the bikes out yet.”

Nix lifted a finger to his lips and, as a sharp guttural noise left me, he placed his palm over my mouth.

“Remote is inside as well, fuck sake,” the other mechanic grumbled before we heard their footsteps depart.

“Takes three minutes to get through the tunnel. How quick we gotta be?” he asked, voice strained and raw. “I want to cherish this. I want to fuck you like I’ve imagined.”

I tried to speak against his palm.

“Let me take my time,” he begged, slackening to thrust his fingers slowly as if he’d already made up his mind. “Let me cherish this. Let them walk in. Blame me. I’ll take the heat.”

He applied pressure to my clit, finger arching inside me to hit that spot.

A shot of sound came from my mouth and if I weren’t such an animal in the moment, based on the pure need for him, I would worry about covering his hand in saliva.

I simply didn’t care.

Because as exciting as this was — and my heart was truly racing — it was the stupidest, most thrilling and petrifying and arousing and exciting moment of my life.

“Livid, you’re trouble,” he muttered, dropping his hand from my face, instead holding me in place by my hips as he slowed, thumb building the pressure with my clit. “This is already more than I bargained for.”

“Three minutes?” I rasped.

“Mmm,” he moaned into my neck. “But it doesn’t have to be. I can lock the door, I can—”

But I shoved him off me and fell to my knees, running my fingers lightly up his cock. “You said you could come down my throat?” I asked and licked the slit of his cock. “Come down my throat then.”

“Livid,” he warned.

I took him in my mouth, swirling my tongue around his head, enjoying the smooth taste of him and humming with pleasure.

“Fuck,” he grunted as I took him deeper. His hands tangled in my hair, massaging my scalp as I picked up the rhythm.

“Make yourself come,” he ordered, breathless. “Be a good girl and come with me.”

My fingers found my clit and I rubbed savagely, as I imagined he would later. I already knew it wouldn’t take much, half way there by just the thought of NixonArmas’scock down my throat.

His warm cum filled my mouth and, the wild look in his eye, his fast breaths, the salty taste of him, knowing I wanted to be the good girl he’d called me, had me choking my moan around his dick as I came, heat rolling through my body.

And, as he tapped his cock on my patient tongue and filled my mouth with his cum, I had the surreal thought that my fate had been sealed.

I dismissed it.

On my knees, Nix bent to swipe the corner of my mouth before placing his thumb between my lips for me to suck off the last of him, eyes on his.

Why wasn’t the horny smoke fading? Why wasn’t I suddenly embarrassed? Or regretting it? Why wasn’t I begging for my job, for him not to tell anyone?

He gave me a hand to help me up and I swiftly buttoned my jeans, avoiding his gaze. My slides had fallen off back at the pillar .

“Tonight I’m going to make you come,” he whispered in my ear, pressing his body into the back of mine. “I want to hear your little cries without my cock muffling them.”

“Tonight?” I asked, frozen, but the fire was reigniting low in my belly.

“We’re not done,” he said with a shake of his head as if he couldn’t believe me. He pressed into my back, arms reaching around to hold me prisoner. He paused. “Are you always going to be so stiff with me clothed? Do I need to get you undressed for you to lighten up?”

I laughed and turned around in his arms to see his mouth only inches from mine. “Good luck,” I said, not fighting his hold but stepping back and putting pressure on his grip. “Only one man has made me come. And it’s never been with penetration alone.”

“I’m patient,” he purred and lifted my chin for his following words to breathe on my lips, “and very eager to please.”

I inhaled his breath, wanting more of him and probably looking dumbfounded through my tiny blinks.

“I’ll come by your hotel room. Too many people will try and find me in mine. I’ll be discreet. See you later, Livid.”

And he left me with the taste of him still in my mouth.