Faster (Stark Ink, #3) (24 page)

In a sudden burst, the riders were off the line, kicking up dust in their wakes. The roaring sound of their engines started to fade as they sped away. Pissed off and determined to hold on to the one thing she still had left—two things, as she glanced at Emilio—Ava slammed her visor down hard.

She flipped off Weasel before she gave the Honda full throttle. She shot off, rocketing toward the start line. As she slid effortlessly through the gears, she focused on nothing but the tail lights in front of her. She didn’t check to see if Emilio was following her. She could almost feel that he was.

A
va’s unfamiliarity with the track became a problem right from the beginning. The loose dirt made her rear tire slide so sharply she nearly wiped out immediately. She struggled to stay upright as she laid her foot on the gas, sacrificing control for speed, chasing the tail lights ahead of her.

Emilio edged up beside her, making up for his later start. She didn’t bother to glance his way, but could feel his presence intensely. They shifted together, totally in sync, catching up easily to the pack in front of them.

They’d slowed for the first turn and Ava could see why. The hard scrabble surface was a guarantee that someone would wipe out. And no sooner had Ava thought it but someone did. A rider on a black Yamaha dipped too far to his left as he tried to hold the change in course. His knee hit hard and the bike spun out, kicking up debris in an arc.

Tiny rocks sprayed across Ava’s visor and she was glad she’d put it down. Someone just ahead of her hadn’t bothered, though. His bike jerked hard to the right, veering wildly off course. Ava figured he must have caught a stone in the eye.

A sharp fear rose in her as she realized that the rider was directly in front of Emilio, but Emilio managed to slide around him, putting on speed to separate them as quickly as possible to avoid being taken down in a tangle of fiberglass and chrome.

Only two riders were left ahead of them, bunched together. Ava and Emilio made it safely through the turn and then split without having to “discuss” it. Ava went left, Emilio went right. They flanked the two riders and began to overtake them.

The rider on Emilio’s side gestured wildly to the guy beside him, attempting to indicate that they should spread out, block Ava and Emilio’s progress. The other rider held a straight course, though, either unwilling to cooperate with another racer or just not understanding the suggestion.

The frustrated driver tried to swerve into Emilio’s path and force him off the track, but Emilio’s bike was larger and he was far more confident. Emilio pushed back, edging closer to the middle. Trapped on the left side by the uncooperative racer, the potential strategist saw his plan fizzle out almost immediately. Unless he was willing to risk his bike— and himself— in a two-wheeled game of chicken, he’d have to give up and just ride hard.

Ava pulled alongside the guy next to her and overtook him easily. Up ahead, though, the line of flares stopped, and she frowned, confused. The race was a mile long, or should be, anyway. By her estimation they were only coming up on half that distance. So if the raceway ended 100 yards ahead of them, where was the Finish line? She glanced toward Emilio who shook his head at her. He didn’t know either.

Ava laid on the throttle again, to give herself more of a lead. As glowing red flares zipped by her peripheral vision, she and Emilio left the other two riders in their rear views. Seventy-five yards, then fifty. Still no Finish line in sight.

At ten yards before the path abruptly ended, the canyon wall on Ava’s left finally fell away and a harsh, red glow caught her eye to her left.
Immediately
to her left.

A ninety-degree turn.

Having gotten close enough now to make out the shape of their surroundings, Ava realized why she couldn’t see the flare that marked the right side of the path as it turned sharply to the left. It was blocked by a huge boulder, a boulder so large that it must have been there since God wiggled his finger and made the Badlands.

Emilio must have recognized it at the same time she did because he lifted his hand and tried to wave her off.

She
did
slow, because at this speed she’d slide right into the boulder, but as she did so, she could hear the other two riders catching up to them from behind. She didn’t want to risk her lead but she really had no choice.

She turned her front tire and braked harder. Her wheel cut into the loose gravel, fighting for traction. It couldn’t quite hold on, though, and Ava had to lift her left foot to brace herself in the dirt.

As the sole of her boot raked across the ground, she was infinitely glad hers was the smallest bike. She could support its weight, but it wasn’t easy.

She’d hoped she’d cleared the boulder but she hadn’t reduced her speed enough. The rear tire of her Honda smacked the rock face. She let off the gas as the whole bike ricocheted in the opposite direction.

Once the impact was over, she hauled the Honda upright again. She pushed the ground so hard with her left leg that her thigh felt like it was on fire. She hit the gas again as soon as she was nearly vertical, using the sudden burst of speed to regain the rest of her balance.

As she lowered herself back into the seat and cleared the boulder, she saw Emilio coming up on her right. He’d gone around it, costing him a few seconds, but he hadn’t actually hit it, so he was rolling faster out of the turn than she was.

Behind her, the last two riders realized what they were up against. One tried to take the turn sharp, like Ava, probably not wanting to spend the extra seconds to take the long way around. He’d misjudged his speed, though, not slowing down nearly enough.

He tried to put his own foot down, but his bike was heavier, with a bigger engine and chassis, and it was too much for just the one leg to handle. He went all the way down hard, skidding bike and all, several feet along the track. The last rider braked to a stop to avoid collision, effectively eliminating himself from the rest of the race.

Even if he made it around the sprawled rider, he’d never catch back up to Ava and Emilio.

Ava turned back to the raceway and assessed it immediately. A straightaway now, no surprise turns. It seemed to narrow considerably at the end, but it appeared to be wide enough for at least two riders and she and Emilio were the only two left.

She twisted the throttle hard, engine roaring in her ears. Her front tire was in line with his rear. They were both chewing up the track as they sped down the lane.

Ava’s RPMs shot up as she leaned into the bike, trying to make herself as small as possible. The tiny little drop in drag gained her a few inches, at least.

Emilio’s bike was faster and she knew now that he could hold it together on the loose-packed terrain, unlike so many others. Another hundred yards, another fifty. She gained on him a bit with her lighter, more nimble bike, but it might have been because he let her. Either way, it wouldn’t be enough.

Twenty-five yards now.

She dragged oxygen into her lungs as her muscles stretched and burned. The unnatural position of nearly lying parallel to the ground was almost too much for her hips and back. She fought to hold on, and made a respectable go of it, but on the last ten yards, Emilio finally pulled away, giving his engine one final rev and leaving her in his wake.

He sailed past the Finish line marked with flares, Ava following closely behind.

Up ahead, the crowd had gathered. Weasel was at the forefront, screaming and waving his arms back and forth like an umpire waving off a bad pitch. Ava couldn’t hear his words, but she could guess what they were. The message was clear.

There would be no payout because they hadn’t been on the Start line.

Emilio didn’t seem to care either way. He rode past, slowing, presumably for the safety of the onlookers gathered on both sides. He didn’t stop, though, looking back only once to check her position.

He took the right-hand turn past the bonfire and down the short fire road that led to the highway.

His
message was clear, too.

He was done chasing her.

A
va surged past the crowd, leaving them all behind. Once on the highway where she could safely accelerate without skidding out, she revved her engine to catch up to Emilio. She couldn’t tell how he was feeling, whether or not he was pissed at her, but he at least kept a reasonable, though fast, pace back toward the city.

She supposed he could have easily outrun her, if he’d wanted to ditch her entirely. He wanted her, she assumed, but he wanted her to work for it.

They weaved through the light traffic easily, overtaking pickups and the occasional car. Ava loved the freedom and exhilaration that came with being ahead of everyone else, apart from them. But now there was a new feeling, of being connected to someone else.

It wasn’t just Ava who was flying past the canyons and hurtling through the stars, Emilio was with her. Or she was with him. And she wanted to stay that way.

The rolling hills eventually gave way to city streets, but Ava couldn’t be disappointed about it. She knew where they were headed and what was going to happen when they got there, and she knew that it would be just as good as flying through the stars.

In his driveway, they ditched their bikes without a word and entered the darkened house. As soon as their helmets thumped softly on the carpeted floor of the living room, he had her in his arms, lifting her up, carrying her to his bedroom.

They stripped in a heated, hazy flurry of searching lips and hands. Ava found herself on her back, sinking into the mattress, barely aware of how she’d gotten there. Emilio gripped her wrists, drew them up over her head, and pressed them to the headboard. “Hold on,” he ordered.

Ava hesitated but, intrigued, she did as she was told. She grasped the top, fingers tight, palms pressed flat.

He grinned down at her. “I let you take the lead before, but that’s over.” He leaned down and she felt his hot breath on the skin of her collar bone. “You need to learn to go slow, muñeca. Speed isn’t everything. Not even in our world.” His hand skimmed over her chest and grazed one of her nipples.

Ava gasped and dug her nails into the headboard.

He was only teasing her, though, as he spanned his hand down across her belly. Warmth exploded inside her at his touch. His thumb traced circles across her skin, lower still with every stroke, until finally the calloused pad swept over her swelling clit.

She gasped but it was yet another tease. He didn’t linger there either. Instead, his fingers found their way between her thighs, persistent and searching. Instinctively, she spread for him. Cool air hit her sex and she sucked in another breath. His warm hand covered her, though. His fingertips probed her swollen lips and rasped over her clit until she was panting. One finger finally dipped in and she bucked her hips up off the bed, desperate to have him deeper.

“Slow, Ava,” he reminded her.

The penetration was slow indeed—  rhythmic, intoxicating. She closed her eyes and licked her lips. Breathing was difficult, complicated, like she might drown. Suddenly, she felt him over her. The warmth from his body made her nipples pucker. Before she could react, he traced her lower lip with his wet finger and pushed it into her mouth. Startled, she tasted her own juices. Salty and slick.

His own lips were close to hers, dragging along her cheek near the corner of her mouth. “Get used to it, muñeca,” he whispered. “You’re going to be tasting yourself a lot. On my cock.”

Ava jerked her head to side, expelling the not-quite-as-offensive-as-she’d-like finger. “Oh, really?” she asked sarcastically. “Is that what I’m going to do? And what, exactly, are you going to do? Are you just going to make me—?”

Before she could finish, he reached down and forcefully pushed her inner thighs. For all his talk of going slow, he moved fast—damn fast. He was between her legs, holding them firmly apart, as his tongue touched her folds.

“Oh, God!” Ava tensed and let go of the headboard. She reached down and grabbed his shoulders, unsure what to do. Her heart threatened to explode in her chest.

Emilio paused just long enough to grab her wrists. “It’s okay, Ava.”

She shook beneath him, blinking rapidly, unable to think or move. “Emilio—” It came out confused, desperate, pleading.

His grip was firm but not painful as he drew her hands down to the mattress. “I know, baby. I know it’s new. Just try and relax.”

She blinked back tears as he ducked his head. She wasn’t afraid, just overwhelmed. His lips found her softer ones and she watched, fascinated, as he kissed her gently. His tongue swiped at her, teased her the way his fingers had when they were trying to find a way inside. Her thighs burned.

“I love the way you taste, mi amore,” he told her softly. “Like fresh cream.” He took another long lick and Ava collapsed onto the bed.

As if he sensed her surrender, he let go of her wrists. His hands slid underneath her, cupped her ass, and drew her pussy to his hungry mouth. He was raw, intense, focused only on her as he licked inside her.

“Come for me,” he ordered. “Give me all of it. Let me taste it, Ava. Cream in my mouth.”

She marveled at his words. “Oh, fuck!” she cried and nearly shredded the sheets with her fingernails.

“Soon,” he murmured and pushed in again.

Alone in her bed at night, Ava could make herself orgasm. She’d nearly mastered the art of a self-service quickie. Press on her clit, rub her thighs together—at this point it was like working her old locker combination, familiar and practiced. It had never happened with anyone else before Emilio, though. Clint’s fumbling hadn’t even brought her close. No one had. But Emilio played her body like a well-tuned instrument, like he
knew
her, like he’d
always
known her.

His thumb pressed her swollen bud as his tongue dipped inside again.

She cried out again as she came against his lips.

A thin sheen of sweat seemed to cover her whole body as she collapsed onto the bed. Despite her swirling confusion, Emilio was still fully in charge. He was up and over her again, nestling between her thighs.