jacket. “Oh right, so back to the whole big brother routine again.”
“Revon—”
“No, look. I get it. Mayhem’s working for dad. And you’ve got your whole thing going on. Everyone has faith in you guys.” I was getting angry. “But what I do just isn’t good enough.”
“It’s not that,” Ink said, still staring out the window.
I grabbed my keys. “Well, I got news for you. I’m doing fine. I’m living a crazy life, one thing after another, and that’s fine by me.”
I hurried through the door.
Who does he think he is?
Yeah, sure, I didn’t have too many relationships, and it was a different girl every week, or race-to-race really. But hell, who wouldn’t want that?
My phone buzzed. A text from Uncle Norman:
Got tip on another run. Looks like tomorrow night. Get the crew ready.
Shit, a lot of stuff is going down at once.
Well, there was no question. I didn’t have time for this whole Winter Calloway thing right now. The sooner I got her out of my system, the better.
And what better way than to fuck her again?
I’d never slept with the same girl more than twice. And even then, I was usually thinking about someone else during that second go around. It’s just who I was.
Right now, I had a race to get ready for. But, hell, why not bring her along? I’d let myself have a little more to diffuse the tension. Before I knew it, the old me would bounce right back.
Chapter Seven
Winter
When he called, I answered and agreed to meet him at some track out in the desert. I probably shouldn’t have.
I’d just gotten to my Aunt’s house, and we’d barely had time to catch up. She was gracious enough to extend her hospitality for as long as I needed, saying simply that “she understood,” and I shouldn’t get married for the wrong reasons.
I hadn’t even told her about what Frank had done, or how I wouldn’t even consider going back to him at this point. I guess I was afraid of it getting back to my mother. If she heard how resolved I was, she might hop on a plane and show up at Aunt Sylvia’s.
But as much as I knew this thing with Rev Gryffin was a fling, I had to have more. I’d gotten a taste, and was yearning for the main course. The way my body felt under his touch…full of his beautiful cock…delicious.
After spending miserable years with Frank, trying to force myself into a life that never felt like my own, this was like some euphoric rediscovery.
So, dressed again in clothes that were entirely unsuitable for my surroundings, I took a car out far into the outskirts of Vegas, to some barren stretch of land serving as an impromptu racetrack.
The moment I stepped out of the car in my modest skirt and loosely draped blouse, three strange looking men approached me. The one in the middle wore a sleeveless leather vest and had greasy matted hair and a sunken look from years spent baking in the harsh Nevada desert sun.
“Well, look at this one here,” he began.
“She ain’t from around here, for sure,” his companion noted, speaking about me as if I weren’t five feet away.
I walked hurriedly across the parking lot, and they continued to follow closely. Finally, somewhere in the middle of the vast expanse of vehicles, one of the three grabbed at my purse.
“Let me help you with that, miss.”
I pulled it back over my shoulder and spun around, right into the burning hot metallic side of a parked SUV.
“Well, no need to get flustered…”
I’m not dealing with this again.
I’d had enough. So without thinking twice, I let the strap of my purse fall off my shoulder and grabbed it with my right hand. Turning towards the man closest to me, I swung it out wide and straight under his legs.
It made a solid, satisfying connection, though I’m not sure he saw it that way. But I didn’t stick around to find out. I hustled as quickly as I could on my heels, which although moderately high, were—well, still heels. Once I made it to the back of a swarming crowd, I
“Revon—”
“No, look. I get it. Mayhem’s working for dad. And you’ve got your whole thing going on. Everyone has faith in you guys.” I was getting angry. “But what I do just isn’t good enough.”
“It’s not that,” Ink said, still staring out the window.
I grabbed my keys. “Well, I got news for you. I’m doing fine. I’m living a crazy life, one thing after another, and that’s fine by me.”
I hurried through the door.
Who does he think he is?
Yeah, sure, I didn’t have too many relationships, and it was a different girl every week, or race-to-race really. But hell, who wouldn’t want that?
My phone buzzed. A text from Uncle Norman:
Got tip on another run. Looks like tomorrow night. Get the crew ready.
Shit, a lot of stuff is going down at once.
Well, there was no question. I didn’t have time for this whole Winter Calloway thing right now. The sooner I got her out of my system, the better.
And what better way than to fuck her again?
I’d never slept with the same girl more than twice. And even then, I was usually thinking about someone else during that second go around. It’s just who I was.
Right now, I had a race to get ready for. But, hell, why not bring her along? I’d let myself have a little more to diffuse the tension. Before I knew it, the old me would bounce right back.
Chapter Seven
Winter
When he called, I answered and agreed to meet him at some track out in the desert. I probably shouldn’t have.
I’d just gotten to my Aunt’s house, and we’d barely had time to catch up. She was gracious enough to extend her hospitality for as long as I needed, saying simply that “she understood,” and I shouldn’t get married for the wrong reasons.
I hadn’t even told her about what Frank had done, or how I wouldn’t even consider going back to him at this point. I guess I was afraid of it getting back to my mother. If she heard how resolved I was, she might hop on a plane and show up at Aunt Sylvia’s.
But as much as I knew this thing with Rev Gryffin was a fling, I had to have more. I’d gotten a taste, and was yearning for the main course. The way my body felt under his touch…full of his beautiful cock…delicious.
After spending miserable years with Frank, trying to force myself into a life that never felt like my own, this was like some euphoric rediscovery.
So, dressed again in clothes that were entirely unsuitable for my surroundings, I took a car out far into the outskirts of Vegas, to some barren stretch of land serving as an impromptu racetrack.
The moment I stepped out of the car in my modest skirt and loosely draped blouse, three strange looking men approached me. The one in the middle wore a sleeveless leather vest and had greasy matted hair and a sunken look from years spent baking in the harsh Nevada desert sun.
“Well, look at this one here,” he began.
“She ain’t from around here, for sure,” his companion noted, speaking about me as if I weren’t five feet away.
I walked hurriedly across the parking lot, and they continued to follow closely. Finally, somewhere in the middle of the vast expanse of vehicles, one of the three grabbed at my purse.
“Let me help you with that, miss.”
I pulled it back over my shoulder and spun around, right into the burning hot metallic side of a parked SUV.
“Well, no need to get flustered…”
I’m not dealing with this again.
I’d had enough. So without thinking twice, I let the strap of my purse fall off my shoulder and grabbed it with my right hand. Turning towards the man closest to me, I swung it out wide and straight under his legs.
It made a solid, satisfying connection, though I’m not sure he saw it that way. But I didn’t stick around to find out. I hustled as quickly as I could on my heels, which although moderately high, were—well, still heels. Once I made it to the back of a swarming crowd, I
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