Page 63 of Drive Me Crazy
“More.” My voice is desperate and demanding. There’s no need to ask him twice.
“You feel so good,” he growls as he leisurely rocks into me, mouth dropping open. My brain’s in overdrive, unable to getany words out. Soon I’m gripping his ass, silently letting him know I can take more. That I need more. He takes my cue, thrusting into me at a quicker pace that allows him to free some of the pent-up passion he’s desperate to share. I lift my hips up, matching his fluid movements.
I moan brazenly, not giving a single fuck if the room next door calls the front desk with a noise complaint. All I can focus on is the warmth of Blake’s solid body grinding into me, the sound of our groans drowning one another out, the feel of him stretching me full, the familiar smell of his cologne.
“You’re taking me so well, love.” His voice is thick with lust, hot breath hitting my already sweaty neck. I tighten my legs around his waist, allowing him to get deeper inside me. He continues to pump in and out, and soon I’m completely unaware of anything but the building heat between my legs.
“I’m close,” I gasp. “Yes, right there.”
“That’s it,” Blake coaxes. “Come for me, baby. So fucking beautiful.”
At his words, I unravel, my body pulsing with unrivaled ecstasy. My heartbeat pounds in my ears, making it impossible to hear the incoherent noises we’re both making. Confessions slip from Blake’s lips, making it no secret that he’s close too. I kiss him deeply as he pumps out his own release, a groan vibrating from the back of his throat.
We’re both breathing heavily, sweaty limbs tangled together. My entire body is slick with sweat, stuck to Blake’s like glue. He doesn’t seem to mind. His lips curl into an easy smile and he kisses me. It’s passionate yet gentle and so unbelievably perfect. I nuzzle into his touch.
“We weren’t each other’s firsts,” Blake says, “but I sure as hell hope we’ll be each other’s lasts.”
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 anever-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 raspberriesinto 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?”
