Chapter One

Fucking hell, the adrenaline. That orgasmic rush of fire-like electricity shock waving through my veins, like a cylinder of NOS pumping through me. Eyes on me. My fucking favourite thing—other than drifting, of course.

I was fighting for each breath, begging for more but instinctively trying to hold myself together to last longer. I had my back stretched over the arch of the fuel tank of the blacked-out Kawasaki ZX6R, and looked down at my ankles that were propped over the shoulders of my new plaything—the guy who had just lost the race against Drip.

His head shoved between my thighs.

And his mouth sealed over my pussy. Such ahungry little thing.

I banded a tuft of his curly hair between my fingers and tugged his head to the left, guiding his tongue as it rolled tight, precise swirls over my clit. I moaned and shuddered from the static vibrations of his talented mouth. He groaned in response, pressing his weight into my waist with his thumbs.

He was nervous. I could feel it in the heat that was radiating from his hands on my skin while his tongue worked my pussy. But with each lick and suck, he lost himself more and more. Fuck—this is too good. I was on the brink of coming undone. Hold it in, hold it in. Almost the best head I had gotten to date, but I dared not tell that to Drip, who I caught sight of in the corner of my eye. But he was gone again as I rolled my head back from pleasure. Eyes on me, I fucking love it.

His sharp grey eyes pinned on me, and his chest was working hard for every breath, which only made me fight even harder for each of mine. He was leaning back against his bike with his arms crossed in that way—the way a hot, possessive boyfriend does when he's watching another man eat out his girl.

At his command.

With a raging fucking boner.

So fucking hard.

He had on one of my favourite singlets of his. The white torn fabric hung loosely, yet taut in the right places over his corded muscles. The spaghetti straps barely held his chest in, and in turn, showed each carefully articulated tattoo that bled through the hue of his skin. I'd known him for so long without an inch of blank canvas other than his face, I didn't even remember what he looked like when we were kids.

A moan broke through my lips and Drip's fists clenched. He drew in a chest full of air and shifted his hips. Fuck, I want to taste his pre cum right now, but not yet. He could wait. God, it was getting harder to focus on two things at once. My orgasm was building quickly.

I loved the way he looked at me when someone was going to make me cum, and I loved watching him watch me. But dammit to fucking hell, this guy was good. I couldn't concentrate.

I shuddered out another moan, arching my chest to the warm, dark night sky. My crop tee rode up as I stretched back, unveiling my bare tits. The guy's hand reached up and tightened over one, squeezing hard and slowly finding my nipple. I squirmed as the sensation from the pads of his finger lit my skin on fire. Panting hard, my orgasm built as he traced the sensitive skin of my areola before trailing his touch over the piercing lodged in my nipple. I yelped in pure heaven as he pinched my now-tightened nipple between his fingers, then released and caressed the area.

I rolled my hips to meet more of his tongue. I need to cum. But just…a little longer.

"Good boy. She likes what you're doing," Drip purred, praising the kid. His tone almost cracked, it was so low and husky. It usually dropped that low when he was extremely turned on, roaring right under your skin.

As if encouragement was all the guy needed, I felt a hot breath seep from his grin, and then a set of teeth nip slightly at the vertical metal bar that impaled my clit.

"Ah, fuck," I cried. Make me bleed.

I lifted my ass up, edging him on to bite it. He paused, hovering with the two balls behind his teeth. "Do it," I begged, my teeth clenched shut, my climax on the tip of his touch. He closed his grip over my clit, the bar straining against my skin and nicking it slightly. Everything skyrocketed in my brain like a fucking field of fireworks were going off, and I rolled into an intense climax. He groaned and breathed heavily against my skin, intensifying my orgasm. "Oh, fuck," I pleaded mindlessly for something to fill me.

"Pretty boy," Drip tsked before continuing, "there's something you should know about my sister. She likes pain. Keep it up, and the time I allow you with her won't last as long as you want."

That was true, and I hated that it was. I was really enjoying this one; he was different. But it was the norm for us.

These losers paid big money…for me. Once a month, we ran a big race. I take anyone and anything with four wheels, and my brother takes those on two. If they won, they got me.

Permanently.

And everything that comes with me. A title, for the most part. And millions of dollars. Every estate we own. Every car. Every bike. And Drip's city. The Underground. But if we won…I got to do whatever the fuck I wanted with them. I got to decide. We could simply just take their money and go, like normal human beings. But I was not a normal human being.

I was born corrupted. A default. I was non refundable.

Only disposable.

Drugs used to be the only thing that made me feel…something. Until I found another unhealthy habit,—which only got me into the mess I was in now—hiding that secret from my brother. And then I found yet another fucking problem, just to replace the other defect of mine.

Sex.

And a whole lot of it.

But there was an itch that hounded me.

An itch that needed scratching, intensifying with each passing day.

I had a problem. I knew that. But sex wasn't a crime. Killing someone was. If only my brother knew how good it feels,—how good it could be if we did both of those things…together.

After a while, auctioning me off eventually got boring, because no one ever won. But then we started telling them that we were brother and sister, and the rewards got even better. I enjoyed seeing their faces drop to their asses, but I think Drip frothed over it more than I did. That shit got him hard. Real hard.

I tried pulling myself back to the moment and the guy between my legs peered up at me from under his lashes. He moved back enough so that he could catch a breath and wipe his now-crimson mouth with his tongue, his face evincing the relish of my metallic flavours.

I furrowed my brows. I didn't usually notice the features of my fuck toys so well, but for some reason, his stood out. Vibrant, energising olive green eyes. And freckles, jeez. And his eyes were full of lust and hunger. Fuck, he is too cute and innocent. What in the fuck is he doing, getting himself involved in this lifestyle? And he was terrible at riding a bike. Drip shouldn't have let him race. So why did he?

He lowered his head again, not taking his eyes from mine, his tongue finding my clit once more. My climax didn't even need working again, it was already close. So close. But he slowed again. I didn't want it to end, but I knew it would once Drip had enough of him. Can't we just…keep him?