Page 28

TWENTY-EIGHT

Blake

THE GARAGE IS jam-packed with mechanics working on my car, which is severely dented after I took a turn too quickly and smashed into the barricades during the first practice at the Dutch Grand Prix. Usually I’ll watch them as they tinker with my car and magically bring it back to life, but right now my eyes are focused on Ella. She’s nodding at something a track-side engineer is saying, balancing a coffee in one hand and her iPad in the other.

If you’d told me I’d have a girlfriend six months ago, I would’ve called you a bloody twit. Now I’m falling asleep with Ella in my arms every night, kissing her awake every morning, grabbing that peach of an arse whenever I damn well please. And I damn well please a lot. Ella did make me call George for his “blessing” before allowing me to officially call her my girl-friend because “a writer sleeping with their source is completely against the code of ethics.” She listed off a bunch of scandals and I happily shut her up with a kiss. And then another kiss. I can’t stop bloody kissing her.

The rest of the weekend is a blur. Grand Prix weekends always are. Each moment bleeds into the next, creating a never-ending stream of meetings, media interviews, and fan interactions. The excitement of getting out onto the track, even if I’m only behind the wheel for a few hours, fends off any bit of annoyance or exhaustion I feel. And then there’s Ella. Just being around her gives me the energy I need to endure any excruciatingly long press conference.

I find her blow-drying her hair in the bathroom when I get back from a post-race meeting. We kept our own hotel rooms for a few days but quickly gave that up. There was no point when neither one of us wanted to sleep alone. She still spends half of her nights at her apartment in London when we’re there, but she’s become more than just a house guest at my place.

A besotted smile flirts on her lips as I wrap my arms around her waist. I like knowing that I’m the one who makes her pulse quicken just with a simple touch.

She leans against me. “How was the meeting?”

“It was good. William McAllister was there.” Our team owner only shows up to a few races a year. I’m glad I placed first—with Theo in second—at this one so we were spared any long-winded speeches about the importance of winning. I lower my voice to a calculated sultry tone and say, “Want to hop in the shower with me?”

“Nope! I’m drying my hair, not trying to get it wet again.”

I give her a small pout. “But I love it when you’re wet.”

Placing my lips against her neck, I softly kiss her before sucking the skin into my mouth. I don’t do it hard enough to leave a mark. As much as I’d love to give Ella hickeys, reminding her, and everyone else, that she’s mine and they can kindly go fuck themselves, I get that they’re not the most professional look. She glares at me in the mirror, not budging in her resolve to keep her hair dry. “Sorry, babe. You can’t always use your muscular manliness to get what you want.”

I make exaggerated kissing noises while blowing raspberries into the crook of her neck. She squirms to get away, but I tighten my arms around her like a roller-coaster safety belt. I finally lift my head up, a mischievous gleam in my eyes. There’s no hiding the fact that I’m aroused. Every time I’m near Ella, my dick springs to attention like a soldier greeting its lieutenant.

“You didn’t seem to mind me using my muscular manliness on you this morning. I think your exact words were, ‘Baby, that feels so fu—’”

She presses her hand over my mouth to shut me up, but I lick it in response.

“Ew,” she shrieks. “Gross!”

“You liked when I used my tongue on you earlier.”

“You’re a mouthy man, Blake Hollis.” Ella ducks out of my reach and leaves the bathroom, forcing me to shower by myself.

The first thing she tells me when I’m toweling off is that Marion called. Three times, to be exact. My face darkens immediately, sullen resentment flowing through me. I can’t help it. I know exactly why she’s calling. I’ve been dodging her calls and emails for weeks.

“Everything good?” Ella asks, brows pinched together.

I push out a deep breath of air, trying to calm my nerves. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I wrap my arms around Ella’s waist, so she’s nestled in between my legs. Her arms automatically snake their way around my neck. “What’s going on?”

“I have to do the late-night talk show circuit to promote the book.” I lean my head back and stare at the ceiling. “Marion’s calling to confirm dates with me.”

She’s also going to yell at me to stop being a spoiled brat. Yes, I’m aware that presales for the book start a few months before the actual release and I have to help build buzz. No, I don’t give a fuck if it’s a Sunday Times bestseller or not . Blah blah blah. It’s all bloody stupid. The only good thing about this book is Ella.

She skims her fingertips along my jawline, my heartbeat speeding up under her touch. “You’re going to be great.”

“No, I’m not. I hate doing talk shows,” I huff. I don’t like putting myself in a position where I know my anxiety can be triggered, and this is a prime example. “I suck at them.”

“Do you know how amazing you are?”

“Yeah,” I mumble into the material of her shirt. “I suppose I do.”

Ella shakes her head. “No, I’m not just talking about the cutthroat, competitive racer the world loves. You’re an amazing driver, Blake. There’s no doubt you thrive behind the wheel. But you’re also an amazing person and I think you forget that.”

She presses her lips against my forehead. “You’re a guy who’s figuring life out, day by day, just like everyone else. You’ve been through a lot, but instead of letting it make you weak, you’ve let it make you stronger. So don’t go thinking you’re not going to be great, okay? You’re great without trying. And you’re going to be great at these interviews.”

I lean into her touch as she runs her hands through my hair. I love when she plays with my hair. Whether she’s tugging on it during sex or absentmindedly toying with it like she is now.

“Why don’t you have Marion send us over the questions beforehand?” she suggests helpfully. “We can look over them together and come up with answers you feel good about so you’re less nervous.”

I know my publicist won’t object to this even though it’s technically her job. She knows Ella will have a lot more luck than she ever will.

“Yeah? You’d do that?”

She kisses me in response. “Of course. What talk shows are you going on? Ellen ? Jimmy Kimmel ?”

“British talk shows.”

Her eyes widen. “Do you think they’ll have other guest stars on the talk shows? Like Tom Holland? Oh! Or what about Harry Styles?”

I practically growl at her question. Weaving my hands through her hair, I urge her lips against mine. It’s not an affectionate kiss, it’s a greedy kiss, reminding her exactly why it’s my name she’s moaning each and every night. I know I have absolutely nothing to worry about, but that doesn’t mean I have to like other men existing in the presence of my girlfriend.

“I’m kidding!” She gives me a playful punch. The grin on her face reveals her dimple in full force. “I’m all about you, baby. But I’m happy to go with you to be your fluffer.”

My head falls into Ella’s chest as I vibrate with laughter. “You have no idea what a fluffer is, do you?”

“Do too! It’s someone who helps get the talent ready.”

“It’s someone in porn who helps keep a guy hard in between takes,” I gleefully announce. The devilish delight in my eyes is unmistakable. “So actually, I think it’s a grand idea for you to be my fluffer. Have a quickie before any interviews to really relieve my anxiety.”

She sticks her tongue out in response. “No fluffing will be done.”

“Can we fluff right now?”

“Is fluffing the new fucking?”

“Mm-hmm.” I hold her tighter against me. I’m getting hard just thinking about Ella’s naked body pressed against mine. “And I really fluffing want you right now.”

I tangle my fingers in the soft hair at the nape of her neck and pull her in for a deep kiss. My tongue slides over her lower lip and she shivers in anticipation. The way she moves her lips over mine makes a low groan come from the back of my throat. She pushes me down so I’m lying flat on my back as she straddles me. Jesus, take the wheel. She slowly tugs her shirt over her head and unclasps her bra. Her soft breasts fall out and are begging to be licked, teased, nibbled. They’re hardening at the very tips. It’s hard to keep my eyes on Ella’s face when her nipples are desperately trying to make eye contact with me. As gorgeous as her eyes are, I’d rather have a staring contest with the set of pale pink buds in front of me.

“Fucking perfect,” I moan, feeling the weight of them in my hands.

Ella blushes at my words before trailing sloppy kisses up and down my jawline. She sucks the sensitive skin right beneath my ear, causing me to jerk my hips up in pleasure. Her tongue torturously traces down my neck, drawing out a deep groan from me.

“I want to taste you,” she murmurs, nipping at my ear. “So badly.”

I rip my towel off so quickly you’d think someone poured acid on it. Ella leans over and places kisses on my chest, then my stomach, then finally on my straining cock. I’m shifting restlessly beneath her attention, my breathing choppy. I can’t think straight, my body listlessly craving her touch.

She sucks on my tip, sending me into a frenzy. The noise I make is unintelligible. Ella teases me with a lick, a stroke, a touch, not giving me what I desperately need. This right here, this is heaven and hell. When she finally takes me into her mouth, resting her hands on my thighs, the noise that leaves my throat is animalistic. She looks up at me with sultry eyes and I moan at the sight of her pouty lips wrapped around my dick.

“You’re so fucking good at sucking my cock, baby,” I croak out. “If this were a sport, you’d be a world champ.”

The chuckle she releases vibrates against me and I whimper blissfully. She leans back, making a popping noise as I slide out of the warmth of her mouth.

“Your what?”

“Cock.”

“Hm. Don’t know what that is.”

If I die of blue balls, I would like it to be known that it’s because my girlfriend wants me to call my dick by one of her insane nicknames.

“Will you please continue sucking”—I struggle to think of a name because I refuse to refer to my dick as King Dong—“my stick shift.”

Ella leans back over, slipping my “stick shift” between her parted lips. She hollows out her cheeks as she bobs her head, twisting one hand around the base of me where her lips can’t reach. The pulsing, vibrating need wracking my body is blinding. I’m desperate, arching up to meet her slowly measured rhythm. Incoherent praise encourages Ella to pick up her pace. She’s swirling her tongue around me like I’m a goddamn Popsicle on a hot summer day.

“Wait, Ella, stop.”

She shoots up with a confused look on her face. I immediately realize my mistake. No man with a fucking pulse would interrupt their girlfriend giving them the best head of their life.

“I want to finish inside you.” The hint of a smirk appears on my lips. “Want you to come with me.”

Her cheeks redden at my words, but she nods eagerly, leaning over to grab a condom from the nightstand. She rips the packaging open with her teeth, and it’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my life. We both love foreplay, especially Ella, but it’s obvious she doesn’t care about me returning the favor right now.

She slowly eases down onto me, inch by incredible inch. She feels so tight and warm, I swear I almost pass out from how she’s gripping me. I’m trying to think of sad things to distract from the feeling, but the only sad thing I can think of is that she’s not moaning in pleasure.

“Interview me.”

Her eyes widen in surprise. I’m aware that my ask is insane. I’m inside her and rather than give her what she wants—hell, what we both want—I’m asking her to interview me. The one thing I constantly complain about.

“Did you mean to say ride me ?”

Her body rocks with laughter and the movement causes my balls to tighten. My hands grip her hips to keep her still. I may bruise her from holding on too tightly. “I’d like to last longer than thirty seconds after that blowjob.”

She smirks, very pleased with herself. “Fine. Um, what’s your least favorite candy?”

“Popping candy. They make my tongue feel weird and I hate the sound.”

The surprise appearance of a devilish grin makes me nervous. “I have a follow-up question.”

What follow-up question could she possibly have about popping candy?

“Do you think if I put popping candy in my mouth and then put your dick in my mouth, your dick would get the tingly sensation? Or would it just be uncomfortable? Sort of like gravel?”

It’s a good thing I’m not standing because her question would’ve knocked me right off my feet. Laughter leaves my body at an alarmingly fast rate. Has she seriously thought this in depth about fucking popping candy? And in that capacity? Her weird follow-up question does the trick and I’m ready. So fucking ready.

She lazily rolls her hips, finding a groove she likes. Fuck. It takes an insane amount of patience not to take control. Ella wants to go slow and soft, and I want to go fast and hard. But I’ll do anything to keep this girl happy and if that means giving up the dominance I crave for a bit, so be it. I love seeing how expressive her face is when I’m inside her, watching her as she bites down on her lip in concentration, focusing on her pleasure . I move my thumb so it’s pressed against her clit and her pace falters slightly as she adjusts to the new sensation. Her moans are more angelic than any choir I’ve ever heard.

It doesn’t take long before she’s riding out the waves of her climax. Her body melts into mine and she can’t do anything but lean against my chest and clutch my arms as I slam into her sloppily and quickly. My hands find her arse, squeezing and kneading until she whimpers in response.

I thrust up, hitting her sweet spot just like I do every time. It’s something I’m incredibly smug over—knowing her body well enough to know exactly what to do and where to touch to get her to moan. And there’s absolutely nothing more satisfying than bringing Ella to a euphoric state. The air fills with broken pants as I get close to my release. As she gently reaches back to massage me, my balls tighten in her palm just before I explode in pleasure, grunting as I lose control to a shattering orgasm. We’re both spent, breathing in short, shallow breaths.

“I’m addicted to you, baby,” I murmur into her neck. “Your taste, your noises, your feel.”

“Me too.” Ella presses her forehead against mine. “Should we check into rehab?”

“Nah.” I chuckle. “Fluff that.”