The Champion (Racing on the Edge) (16 page)

Another gasp escaped her throat and her eyes rolled back briefly.
She pulled the leg I still held in my hand free and wrapped it around my waist,
bringing the other up as well so that her body was firmly clamped against mine
prompting me to moan out loud. I put an arm under her shoulders and the other
under her ass. In that position, I was able to pull her upper body against mine
while she fused our lower bodies together with her legs around my waist.

“Jameson,” she sighed, relaxing slightly in my arms.

“Sway,” I grunted. “Jesus Christ
...
”

I could feel myself edging toward climax already and I
didn’t want to hold back even if I could. It had been months, far too long
since we had sex, and I wanted it,
needed
it as soon as possible. Our
movements became frantic, arms, hands and legs flailing around, searching for
the need. As we rocked against each other, the door creaked with each thrust
while the wind howled throughout the house.

I grabbed Sway’s thighs and unclasped her legs from my
waist, prompting a grunt of dissatisfaction from her until she saw that I was simply
moving them up to my shoulders. Positioning them that way and then grasping her
hips, I could pull her body against mine. The thrusts came faster, almost
roughly and I tried to remember to be gentle but she was pushing faster too.

Clutching my arms, her nails dug into my skin moaning and
tossing her head back and forth against the door. I could feel her body tensing
around me again and knew I would join her this time.

I bent at the waist, still holding her legs over my
shoulders, and continued to push inside her. She thrashed a little bit under me
from the sensations but I was able to keep her in place with my grip on her
legs and the angle I maintained, pressing her body underneath mine.

She moaned, needlessly telling me what was already
obvious from her body. With a final hard thrust, I felt my own body tense and
let go. The relief and euphoria pouring over me in waves—an animalistic growl
rang through the house, and I wasn’t entirely surprised to realize it was
coming from me, ripping through me as an audible echo of the intensity I felt
from the bottom of my feet to the ends of my hair. The pulsing continued much
longer than I recalled experiencing before.

Sex with Sway before the baby had been incredible,
indescribable, but it was a pale shadow compared to this. I couldn’t get
enough.

I don’t know how much time had passed before I was able
to move enough that I could release my grip on my wife’s legs. I let them fall
to my sides but made no effort to pull away from her or pull myself from where
I still rested inside her.

Her eyes were closed but she ran her hands through my
hair absently, gathering herself together. I turned my head so I could lay my
cheek against her chest as I came down from the mind-shattering high I had just
experienced.

“We didn’t make it to the bedroom, sorry,” I murmured
eventually. “And the bedroom is fucking amazing,”

“Like that’s somehow your fault.” She chuckled. “Did you
see me rushing in there?”

“True.”

We were still in the entryway of the house, on top of the
broken door, when I heard someone clear their throat. This startled me for two
reasons. One, it wasn’t me who did that, and two, if that was Sway, she’s
clearly sick because that was a man’s voice.

I turned quickly looking over my left shoulder, still
lying on Sway.

“Me desculpe sir?” A gruff male voice asked, standing in
the doorway.

Sway screamed, arms thrashing around, legs kicking as she
tried to cover herself with her shredded clothing.

“Who is that
...
who
the fuck is that?” she wailed.

I tried desperately to cover her but it wasn’t helping.

I had a couple of thoughts. One, how long had he been
watching? And two, who the fuck was he?

“Who is that Jameson?” Sway asked on the other side of
the kitchen, hiding behind the counter.

How she was able to see enough to find the kitchen was
amazing to me. I could barely make out my own feet.

“Quem é você?” I asked.

I knew a little Portuguese, which was actually beneficial
given these circumstances but I also wasn’t sure if I was making any sense.

When I was in high school my parents made me take two
foreign languages and piano lessons just so I had other interests. Though I
became good at them too, racing always held my attention the longest.

“Eu sou manutenção. Eu esqueci de desbloquear a porta,”

“What’s he saying?” Sway asked frantically and I could
now see she was holding a fork behind my back. “What the fuck is he saying?”

I turned to her, both of us still completely naked. While
I tried to comprehend what he had asked, I was more concerned with my wife holding
a fork.

“I swear to god, if you stab me with that goddamn thing
and I will never have sex with you again.”

The man chuckled.

“Gostaria de um sir chave?”

“Yes, I’d like a key.” I took the key from him expecting
him to leave but he just stood there, staring at my wife. I lost it. “Are you
fucking kidding me? Se perda imbecil!”

“Desculpe sir, desfrute da sua estadia,”

The man, who we never got a good look at, turned and
walked away. I wasn’t even sure what he said but Sway’s giggling brought me
back.

Fearing a return of anymore guests, I tried to right the
door I tore down. Sway continued to laugh at me trying to get the door back up
with the wind blowing. It wasn’t exactly easy.

“Why are you laughing?”

She couldn’t stop giggling long enough to answer right
away but eventually she did.

“That was like horror movie shit. I thought he was going
to murder us.”

“And that’s funny?”

“Yes.” She started giggling again which in turn caused me
to start laughing.

Soon we’re both laughing to the point we could hardly
breathe.

Tangled together on the floor, our bodies reacted to one
another and continued where we left off.

“Should we at least make it to another part of the
house?” I whispered.

“I’m partial to the entryway now.” She whispered back.
“But we should clean your leg up first.”

I glanced down at the bloody mess. Now I saw how this all
resembled a horror movie. We even had the puddle of blood.

“There’s time for that later, honey.” I smiled kissing
her lips. “Right now is all about me and you.”

8.
             
Blend Line – Sway

Blend Line – There
is a line painted on the track near the apron and extending from the pit road
exit into the first turn. When leaving the pits, a driver must stay below it to
safely “blend” back into traffic.

We were finally in the bedroom. The windows and doors
were open as the moist humid air surrounded us, dampening our burning skin.

The hurricane was losing strength outside but the power
was still out and the palm trees swayed in the steering winds while debris
continued to hit the sides of the house.

It was slightly arduous to define the moment we were in
but it was just us on an island, alone.

Well, the Rain Man could be out there somewhere but right
then, it was just the Mama Wizard and the Dirty Heathen.

His right hand swept across my sodden upper thigh,
hitching it further up his hip and then rolled us over so I was on top of him.
I looked down at him, his gaze was intense and I couldn’t take it anymore. I
leaned forward and captured his lips with mine, molding us together.

Do you ever think about what each kiss
should
feel
like? Are they all epic fairytale kisses? Should they be?

I can only say what they feel like with my dirty heathen.
When his lips touched mine, every
single
time they touched mine, I felt
it everywhere. I felt it from my toes to the tip of my nose. My heart would
beat faster, my stomach fluttered with butterflies as though I was falling in
love all over again. It was so consuming, so intense that I never wanted to
come up for air. I would get lost in the moment and give myself to him entirely
with each kiss.

Twenty years from now that might be different but for
now, I was going to enjoy my butterflies and tingling.

With the storm surging once again, pelting the windows
and doors with rain, my mind drifted back to our time in Savannah when our
relationship really took a twist.

This was different.

Back then, I didn’t know what I was to Jameson. Now, I
had no doubt in my mind that he loved me and wanted all of me, even the crazy
irrational side that had no sympathy for his shark scratch or his geography
sense.

“You are so beautiful
...
”
Jameson murmured against my lips.

For so long Jameson held so much of himself back, afraid
of letting anyone, including me, see the real him. But the thing he never
realized was that was all I ever saw.

I never saw him as Jimi Riley’s son. I never saw the
famous Jameson—the Jameson that could rarely go anywhere without being hunted
down by pit lizards or garage groupies. I always saw the eleven-year old shit head
that knew what he wanted. I saw the confident steadfast man that he became.

Now that we were married, he seemed different. He
appeared to have let go of the barrier he’d put up around himself and let me
love him for who he was knowing that I would never break his heart.

He showed me passion I’d never dreamed of with every
touch and every kiss. He let me love him in all the ways I already did.

Even so, it was easy to see the change that occurred in
him. He was baring his soul, his heart to his wife.

Jameson also knew me. He knew what each moan meant. He
knew that when I bit down on my lower lip, I was relishing in everything he was
giving me. He also knew what it felt like to have my hands caressing his body,
as I knew what his felt like. We knew everything there was to know about each
other.

Jameson and I were good at the dirty talking and press
forging but this time; it wasn’t even close to that.

This time, it was slow. Every movement was like slow
motion. Our breathing was low—but ragged. Our movements were dawdling—but
passionate. Our kisses were deep—but tender.

“Look at me, honey.” He whispered and moved so he was
hovering over me again. His left hand was behind the nap of my neck, his right
resting against my thigh he wrapped around his waist and then he began to move.
Never breaking his steely gaze from mine, my lips moved from his to kiss his
shoulders, memorizing how the muscles felt against the sensitive skin of my
lips. His warm breath washed over me, overriding any coherent thought I may have
had.

It didn’t take long before our desire gave way and our
movements were driven. Jameson’s hand was still wrapped around the back of my
neck, his fingers digging into my skin. His right hand was on my hip, securing
me to him as his movements sped. Our tattered breathing filled the air and when
we finally let go, it was just as intense as it had always been, maybe more.

Our foreheads rested against each other, I listened to
his heartbeat slow.

“I love you, Sway.” He whispered to me, winded.

“I love you too.”

I felt as if everything I’d been through recently was
like this hurricane pulsating outside.

Like it was almost some sort of metaphor for what our
lives had become. A hurricane comes to shore destroying everything in its path,
leaving you with the devastating aftermath.

I’ve learned over the past year that it’s not about the
storm. It’s about the aftermath and what you make of it and how you recovered
from it. Sure, some storms in your life can be so damaging to you that it’s
hard to come back. But coming back, rebounding, restarting, that is what really
makes you who you are. That’s what
defines
you and those pages within
your story as my mother said.

The more I thought about what my mom’s letter meant to
me, the more I realized she was exactly right.

She was right when she said everything that happened to
you were the pages in between the story of your life but it doesn’t dictate
your future. You control that.

I was going to decide how this was written. I was going
to write my own happy-ending.

Despite creating my own happy-ending, one thing held
true, you can’t avoid the storm. Sooner or later, it’ll find you. But the best
part about a storm, in my mind, was relying on the one you love to pull you
through it and letting him.

Through everything, Jameson was here to pull me through
it. And I let him.

Still naked, laying there for a good hour, we listened to
the waves breaking against the shore as the sun began to rise. The lighting in
the room had changed from cerulean to a soft but glowing pink with ginger hues.

“I miss Charlie.” I whispered against Jameson’s bare
chest tracing circles over his scar from where his chest tube was after his
accident in Pocono last year.

“I do too.” He murmured placing a kiss on my forehead.
“He was a special man to a lot of people.”

“I felt like he came over that morning to say goodbye.”

“I know what you mean
...
before
I left for Daytona he pulled me aside and gave me this long speech about how I
needed to take care of you and Axel.”

I propped myself up on my elbow. “What did he say?”

His lips twitched into a smile blinking slowly. “He told
me that you will always be his little girl.” His hand brushed my hair away from
my face. “He told me that no matter what—put you first and I’ll have no regrets
in life. He also said not to work my life away and he told me
...
that he felt like I’d always been a son to
him.”