Crashed - Chapter Fourteen
The almost but not quite sex scene in CRASHED. The racing term sex scene. Whatever you want to refer to it as, this was an often requested scene to read in Colton’s point of view.
He’s had this big accident, pushed Rylee away earlier in the night, and yet he wakes up and here she still is. She’s scared and he’s scarred and yet she’s still fighting.
It was fun and challenging writing this chapter from a male perspective. I had the constant fear I was making him sound too soft, too hard (no pun intended here, ladies … I’m talking about emotion—emotion here—get your minds out of the gutter), too crass, or not crass enough. I think I nailed it (ha, couldn’t resist), hope you think so too.
… dragons live forever, but not so little boys …
The lyrics filter into my head, my own dragons—and not the playful, puffy kinds—are front and f*cking center, but that’s not the problem. The problem is I’m not a little boy and yet I’m still living with this shit.
I slowly ease awake and can’t believe how nice it feels with her arms wrapped around me instead of that soul-jarring, mind-f*cked moment when you wake up alone with only your demons lurking in the dark corners to keep you company.
I close my eyes for a second, accepting that she’s still here after everything I’ve put her through.
“My dad used to sing that to me when I had nightmares.”
Her body jolts at the sound of my voice as I put my arm around her and pull her closer, skin to skin. My own personal balm to coat the inked reminders on my torso that reflect the stains on my soul.
“I know,” she whispers, “and you were.”
I press a kiss to the top of her head and leave my mouth there, breathing her in. Trying to wash the dream from my mind. Needing to.
I think of how I’d much rather dream about the crash than him. How almost dying, going headfirst into a wall, is ten times easier to cope with than the smell of the musty mattress, the feel of his hands on me, the taste of anticipatory fear.
I need to talk, to scavenge some of the thoughts from within and release them so I can start to breathe again. I pick the one she knows the most about, the one that won’t make her look at me and think I’m weak for succumbing to its clutches.
“I was scared. I remember the vague sense of being scared those last few seconds in the car as I was flipping through the air.” I don’t know why that’s so hard to admit to her.
She runs her hand over my chest. “I was too.”
“I know,” I say evenly but hate myself for putting her in that position. Loathe that she fears anything because of me. I reach down, my hand sliding beneath the band of her panties to cup the curve of her ass and pull her up so she can look into my eyes. I hate rehashing shit, but I owe her this ten times over and then some. “I’m sorry you had to go through that again.”
Her eyes glisten with tears and now I hate that I’ve made her cry bringing it up, but when she leans forward and brushes her lips against mine, all thoughts are lost but one.
Take.
And hell if it’s the emotion of the day, needing to erase my dreams, or simply being so f*cking relieved to be alive, but I do just that.
I squeeze her ass in my hands so her tits rub up against me, and every part of my body begs, craves, and is starved for more of her. I need to hear that sigh she makes, need her taste on my tongue, and I don’t hesitate. I slip my tongue between her lips and don’t even realize the groan is coming from me.
Thank f*ck I survived the crash because I need this little slice of Heaven right now, and I sure as shit know this was going to be one of the first things I’d miss if I’d died and landed in Hell.
I bring my free hand to her face and slide my other one from her ass up her back and put them in my favorite place tangled in her curls so she has no other option but to open up to me. And when I pull her head back, I see just that in her eyes: vulnerability, need, and desire all balled into one dick hardening look.
Hell, I was hard before that, but shit, there’s no turning back now.
“Ry, I …” My mind fires, fleeting flashes of stolen thoughts but none stick against the wall. Things I want to say flicker and fade just as quick as they come, but the feeling within me remains burning bright. I clear my throat, trying to buy time for them to come out but nothing does so I say the only thing I can. “Thank you for staying.”
F*ck this. That’s not what I want to say. Man the f*ck up, Donavan. You told her if you can’t say it, you’ll show her any way you can. So f*cking show her.
“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be,” she says, snapping me from my conflicting thoughts. I meet her eyes, a man on a mission now. Wanting to take and needing to prove.
My hand pisses me the f*ck off because I want to lift her up and onto me so I can keep my head still and not trigger another goddamn headache and ruin this, but it’s not working. And f*ck do I need it to work more than ever right now. But Ry anticipates what I want, so she straddles my hips and looks down at me.
I take her all in, lips parted, nipples hard beneath her tank, and the f*cking heat of her p-ssy on my very desperate cock. Desire ignites between us and within moments our lips are on one another’s, hands touching, bodies aching for so much more than this.
My good hand grips onto her hip, urging her to rock like that again over my dick and when she does, f*ckin’ A. All thoughts flee because my mind and body are in total agreement on what they want: her. Any way I can get her because it’s been so f*cking long since I’ve buried myself in her addictive p-ssy.
My right hand moves to her other hip because I need my woman naked right now. Need to see her tits, rub my thumbs over her nipples for my own f*cking pleasure and hers. I’m so lost in the taste of her kiss that when I go to grip her tank top, I forget about my hand—that it can’t pull the fabric up and over her head.
Without missing a beat, Rylee comes to the rescue—like always—and has the shirt off. And f*ck I’ve seen her tits before but don’t think I’ve ever wanted her more than right now.
Screw what the doctor says, what my head is going to feel like, because this man is not waiting. No f*cking way when she is sitting like this atop me. Vixen, siren, mine. The last one mattering the most.
Her mouth meets mine again, her tits against my chest. My hand on her hip guides her to slide over my boxer-brief clad cock, making me ache in the worst way, in the best way. And when she moans and sits back up, I fight every primal instinct in me to flip her over and f*ck her into oblivion. She is the epitome of sex right now and all I want to do is taste, take, and sate my desire.
I lean up, the slight twinge of pain in my head drowned out by the desire owning my body, and take the tip of her tit into my mouth. Her cool flesh against my warm tongue only adds to the riotous frenzy within me.
I flick my tongue over her nipple and claim her mouth again while my right hand lamely palms her breast. I know the minute she feels my hand’s f*cked-up grip because she brings her hands to mine, laces her fingers with them, and moves them to her hips.
I groan as she drags her lips from my mouth and leans her forehead against mine, dreading and knowing what she’s going to say.
“We can’t. It’s not safe.”
We can. F*ck safety. F*ck any reason you’re going to deny me because I’m not ashamed to admit I’m a desperate man willing to break every rule to have you.
“It’s too much exertion,” she explains.
“Baby, if I’m not exerting myself, then I’m sure as f*ck not doing it right.” I can’t help but chuckle against that spot on her neck. I feel goose bumps across her skin as I rub my stubble against it to let the flash of pain in my head abate.
Her nipples press into my chest and I know she sits up to fight her own urge to take and f*ck if that doesn’t make her even sexier. But even better is she positions herself perfectly so that my dick presses against the damp spot on her panties. Her lips part and eyes close momentarily as I purposely adjust my hips, pushing my cock against our double cloth barrier into the dent of her p-ssy. I get a low groan but I want more from her. I want to hear her tell me to take her.
“Colton,” she moans and f*ck, saying my name like that is like my own personal verbal Viagra. There’s no way I’m turning back now because then both heads will be throbbing in pain.
“You know you don’t want me to stop,” I say, hoping she’s willing to break a few rules, but she reaches out and places her finger on my lips to quiet me
“This woman is just trying to keep you safe.” Her voice has that husky rasp to it that tells me she’s fighting this just as hard as I am. And damn her restraint is a challenge I can’t wait to test.
Game on, baby.
“Oh, but you forget that the patient is always right and this patient thinks that this woman,” I say as I open my mouth and suck on her finger, swirl my tongue around it, eyes locked on hers, “needs to be thoroughly f*cked by this man.”
She squeezes my hips with her knees, and I can feel her control slipping, my dick pulsing against her. Almost there, baby.
“Safety,” she reiterates with unwavering resolve and f*ck, I thought she was closer to caving than this. Time to bring out the big guns. Well the big guns beside the one she’s sitting astride rubbing herself against right now.
“Ryles, when have you ever known me to play it safe? Please … let me exert myself,” I plead, flashing her that no-holds-barred grin of mine. The one that she’s told me makes her wet because it means I’m about to take her. But f*ck if my voice isn’t strained from the painful ache in my balls. I roll my hips again, and this time she grinds down at the same time so she’s testing more than just my control, she’s testing my sanity too. I lick my lips and look at her, eyes taunting, dick teasing. “I’m dying to take the driver’s seat and set the pace.”
Her laugh fills the room and I just look at her, confused to why the hazy look in her eyes has been replaced with humor. What the f*ck, Ry? This is not a laughing f*cking matter.
“When we first met, Haddie wondered if you f*cked like you drive.”
Talk about shifting gears when the only one I want to be shifting is into her … but her comment finally makes its way through my p-ssy-possessed mind and I can’t help but laugh at Haddie’s question. Hmm. Wonder how she answered.
“And how’s that?”
“A little reckless, pushing all the limits, and in it until the very last lap …” she says, her fingernail scraping down my chest causing my balls to tighten and priming every muscle in my body to pounce.
But I hold myself back, know she’s playing some kind of game here. I can see it in her eyes, and I’m torn between letting it play out and giving in to f*cking her senseless.
I angle my head to the side and stare at her. I love when feisty Rylee comes out to play, so f*ck yes I’ll accept the painful ache drawing this out will cause me.
I’ll play the game all right, follow her lead, but she better be ready to let me win this round when all is said and done. A man has only so much restraint after all.
“Well, was she right or do I need to take you for another spin around the track to refresh your memory?”
You gonna say no, sweetheart? I love the look on her face, love that I caught her off guard. Tell me, show me, what’s flickering through those eyes of yours.
Our eyes lock for a moment as I try to read what she’s thinking but f*ck if I can hold them there when her fingers slide over my happy trail and then up over the scant excuse she’s wearing for panties.
And then they sit there. Taunting me. They move slightly over the waistband like she’s as desperate to touch herself as I am.
“Not sure I remember, Ace. It’s been a while since I’ve seen you in action.”
This is the game she’s playing? Drive me crazy? F*ckin’ A, measure me for the straight jacket because I’m sure we could put it to some kind of kinky use.
I don’t think she has any clue how much she owns me right now.
F*cking owns every single part of me and doesn’t have a damn clue. Sitting astride me, fingers atop the little piece of Heaven that I’d die to claim right now, and the sarcastic dare falling from her mouth. My mind wanders to what exactly those fingers would look like nestled between those folds of flesh, and I have to stifle the groan at how f*cking hot the vision is. And I think that’s exactly what she’s trying to do—tease me with what she won’t give me. With what I can’t claim yet.
She wants to play, huh? Oh, I am so f*cking game right now. Ready to knock it out of the goddamn park.
“Baby, if you’re trying to get me to stop, then you shouldn’t throw around comments like that.” I shift in the bed and accidentally roll my hips again, feeding into the pleasurable pain as my aching cock rubs against her tempting p-ssy yet again. And this time I know I’ve hit her right where it counts because she throws her head back and the soft sigh that falls from her mouth is a dead giveaway no matter how unaffected she’s trying to play it.
I can’t take my eyes off of her. The sight of her tits, weighted globes of perfection, right in front of my face. I force my eyes to move upwards and meet the challenge in hers. “If you think I f*ck like I drive, you should see me drop the hammer and race you to the finish line.”
I see her breath catch and her body stutter in its motion momentarily before she quickly recovers and regains her composure. My mind starts to try and figure what I just missed but my thoughts are pulled out from underneath me when she spreads her legs apart further, the wetness on her panties spreading wider. My fingers rub together, itching to touch.
“I thought racing wasn’t a team sport,” she says coyly. “You know, more of an every man for himself kind of thing.” Her eyes hold mine as her fingers slip beneath the band of her red silken panties and still, my eyes darting between the two waiting for her to move them. Begging her to move them. The visual consuming my thoughts.
I force myself to look away, to work a swallow in my throat that’s suddenly become dry. “Every man, yes,” I finally am able to get out. “It can be very dangerous too, you know?”
“Oh really?” she asks, eyes locked on mine, the moan of pleasure that falls from her lips has my breath laboring as I look down to watch the movement of her fingers beneath the fabric in front of me.
“Sweet Jesus!” I can’t handle the unknown, needing to see for myself the show on display. And thank f*ck my right hand decides to work when I need it most because the fragile fabric of her panties is snapped and dropped in an instant without a second thought.
And Rylee doesn’t even skip a beat.
Oh f*cking my. The white French tips of her nails are a mind-dizzying contrast to the darkened pink flesh they dance across. Perfection. Addiction. Absolution. I glance up knowing she’s going to have that taunting smile on her lips and for the second time in as many seconds I’m knocked breathless.
F*cking kryptonite.
Rylee’s head is thrown back, curls tumbling all over the place, lips parted, tits pushed out, and the sexiest moan coming from her lips as she doesn’t just revel in the moment but becomes the f*cking moment. F*ck me. The woman who used to tighten the sheet around her months ago in modesty now sits astride me in all of her glory, owning her body and sexuality with such a confidence that I’ve never thought her to be more sexy, more sensual, more everything than right now.
She lifts her head forward, her hand sliding out from between her legs, moisture glistening off of her fingers for me to see. “Well, Ace, danger can be overrated. It seems I know how to handle a slick track perfectly well.” She smirks that smug smile I want to f*ck off her face right now just before she slips her arousal coated fingers into her mouth and sucks on them, eyes taunting me all the while.
Is she trying to kill me right now? F*cking voodoo p-ssy is back with a vengeance and f*ck if I’m not ready to be the first and only victim. The woman has me strung tighter than a hair string trigger—volatile and ready to blow. My balls tighten, my body tenses wanting her so desperately, but my stubborn streak tells me I have to hold out, take the reins when the time is right. My body screams that time was ten f*cking minutes ago, while my head loves when Ry gets feisty and defiant. When she makes me work for it like no one else ever has.
“Slippery and wet, huh? Danger has never been more f*cking tempting,” I tell her, my eyes watching as she pulls her fingers from between her very f*ckable lips and follows the descent back down south. She adds torment to her tantalization by parting her seam with one hand so I can more than handily see her other fingers add the friction her sighs say is more than pleasurable.
F*ck me this is brutal to watch and not partake in when all I want is to do is urge her hips closer to my face and have her sweet taste on my tongue again. For that alone, it’s time for me to mess with her a little more and knock her out of the pleasure inducing coma that’s darkening the violet in her eyes.
“You know, sometimes in a race, in order to reach the finish line, rookies like you have to tag team to get the result you want.”
Her head snaps up, lips parting, and eyes flashing with shock momentarily until she regains her composure. Perfect. Threw you there didn’t I, sweetheart?
“Sorry, but this engine seems to be doing just fine running solo.” She smirks at me, so arrogant that she thinks she dodged the proverbial bullet. Too bad I’m holding the only gun allowed to shoot that shell. And f*ck me, she’s sliding her hands back down to my place between her thighs, her moan of pleasure when she finds purchase—my own personal Heaven and Hell.
And then she stops and looks at me, lust in her eyes and evidence of her arousal on her hands. “I know exactly what it’s going to take to get me to the finish line.”
“Oh, so you like to race dirty, huh? Break all the rules?” I ask, fingers trailing up her thighs, leaving visible goose bumps in their wake, her body angling toward me the higher I go. F*ckin’ A straight. She can play the aloof card all she wants but she can’t deny that her body readily submits to me when I want it to. And f*ck, how I want it to right now.
“Oh, I most definitely can handle dirty,” she taunts as she trails a finger up my chest and rubs some of her moisture across my lips. My tongue darts out, unable to resist the temptation to taste what I’m craving and f*ck me if it doesn’t make me want to flip her over, cuff her hands over her head, and f*ck the defiance out of her until she’s screaming my name and owning my heart more than she already does.
She grinds her hips down, that smarmy smile still teasing the corners of her mouth as she rocks back and forth over me. She leans forward, her breath a taunting whisper against my ear. “Being a seasoned pro such as yourself, you just might have to show this rookie exactly why they say rubbing’s racing.”
She’s playing the temptress card and passing with flying f*cking colors. I don’t even have time to recover from the notion that her p-ssy’s wetness is starting to soak through my boxer-briefs when she rocks her hips again. I try to remain unaffected, play her game, but I have to grit my teeth to prevent my eyes from closing at the rocket of sensation that just shot through me.
When I look from her hand back up to her eyes, she raises her eyebrows in the final coup de grace. “Big bad professional race car driver like you afraid to show a newbie how to drive stick, huh?”
And I can’t take it anymore. Fuse lit and control shot. Within a beat, I’ve pushed her back up to sitting, pulled her feet flat on the bed beside my ribs and knees spread wide, because if I’m watching the feature presentation, I better have a goddamn front row seat.
“I’m shifting gears, sweetheart, because I’m the only one allowed to drive this car.” My hands slide up again until they reach the juncture of her thighs. My thumbs brush over her tight strip of curls before I readjust and tuck my fingers into her. She cries out, her tight walls flexing around me and milking against my fingers as they stroke the nerves within. And between her wetness on my fingers and the memories of her gripping my dick has me pre-coming like a f*cking adolescent school boy but f*ck me, I’ll take it. I’ll take anything I can from her because Rylee? She’s f*cking everything.
She doesn’t take long to climb because she’s so addled with pent up need—and the fact that it’s only for me is not lost in the frenzied moment. Her fingernails score my skin, body tenses, and p-ssy convulses as the broken cry of my name fills the room around us.
My name moaning from her lips. God-f*cking-damn is that not the sexiest sound I’ve ever heard.
I give her a moment to gain her breath, the senses I’ve just finger-f*cked out of her, and when I think she’s coherent enough, I let her know that even though she’s just come, I’m the one who just won the race.
“Hey, rookie?”
She lifts her head forward and looks at me from beneath weighted eyelids heavy with satisfaction. “Hmm?” is all she can manage and I f*cking love that drowsy just-been-f*cked-right look on her face. The one that only I can put there.
“I’m the only one that’s allowed to drive you to the motherf*cking checkered flag.”
She just throws her head back and laughs, cheeks flushed, tits jiggling.
F*cking gorgeous.
Like I said, she’s everything.
The Holy motherf*cking Grail.