"I've been tested," he says, kissing me. "I'm clean. Are you sure?"
"I'm sure," I say. "I want to feel you bare inside me."
"Shit, you are going to fucking kill me," he says. "You're going to get us arrested out here on the side of the road. We should go home."
"No one's around here," I say. "And I can't wait." I turn around, my hands on the roof of the car, pulling my skirt up to expose my ass, the warm air against my bare wet pussy.
"Oh, hell," Gaige says, and his bare cock pressed against my entrance. In one thrust he's inside me, filling me up, his hands on my waist, pushing me against his cock. He talks to me as he thrusts into me. "Put your fingers on your clit, darlin', and rub it, because your mouth had me so close I'm not fucking waiting."
"Harder," I beg, rubbing myself while he brings me higher and higher, thrusting inside of me with short strokes. I can feel his bare cock against my walls, and I'm squeezing him with my muscles when he slaps me hard on the ass.
"Shit, darlin', you keep doing that with your pussy and I'm going to come inside you," he warns.
"Oh God." The idea of Gaige at my mercy nearly brings me to my knees, and I'm already coming before he even gives me permission, the orgasm overtaking me, hard and unexpected. He grips me, thrusting inside me again and again as he comes, filling me with his warm seed.
Afterward, I'm still throbbing around him when he laughs, pulling out of me and taking his shirt off. He uses the fabric to wipe between my legs.
"Seriously, Gaige, what are you doing?" I squeal. "You're going to go through the gate at my father's house shirtless?"
"Better than having you go through the gate with cum dripping down your legs, don't you think?" he asks. He kisses me on the mouth as he wipes me off, and the act, potentially crude, is somehow incredibly erotic when Gaige does it. "I spilled my drink; that's my story."
When he's back behind the driver's seat, he looks at me and grins. "Don't think that just because I bent you over on the side of the road, I'm not going to need to get you in bed just as soon as we walk through the door," he says.
"Well, Akira-san isn't pleased, and there's unfortunately no way for his company to save face," Beau says, his brow wrinkled as he looks at me over the table at dinner.
I don't think he's entirely comfortable with the idea of Delaney and I being together, but he's not opposed to it either, and at least he's been publicly supportive. It hasn't affected the team either; I guess it's good that the scandal happened when it did during the trip, before I'd started back officially racing. My manager says I should lie low for another couple weeks and give the whole thing time to blow over. Holing up with Delaney for a few weeks sounds just fine to me.
"I'm sorry, Beau," I say. I'm not sorry about Delaney and I, but I'm sorry for how things turned out. If Beau were any other man, I'm sure he'd have fired my ass and slapped me with a lawsuit, but Beau just waves dismissively, his steak knife in hand.
"Naw," Beau says, his drawl becoming somehow thicker. "You'll be sorry if you do anything that hurts my daughter."
"Dad," Delaney warns. "He's already heard this."
"There's no harm in repeating things," Beau says. "That's how they stick in your memory."
"I promise I won't hurt Delaney," I say. "On my honor."
Beside me, Delaney snorts. "I didn't know you had honor," she says.
Beau glowers at both of us while he points at me with his knife. "For his sake, I hope he does."
Delaney giggles. "It was a joke," she says.
Beau shakes his head. "Give it a month before we start joking about any of this," he says.
Later that night, Delaney lies on her stomach, in bed naked, her arms on my chest as she looks at me. "So your manager recommended lying low for a few weeks?" she asks. "No racing?"
"I don't know about that, darlin'," I say. "You know I need to ride. But nothing official."
"No stunts," she warns. "Nothing stupid."
"Cross my heart," I say.
"I don't believe you," she says. "If you swore on your dick, I'd take it much more seriously."
"Is nothing sacred to you?" I laugh as I run my hands through her hair.
"Oh, is this supposed to be sacred?" she asks, her hands running down my abdomen to my cock.
"Didn't you say you made a shrine to it?"
"Mhmm," she says, and my dick hardens to her touch. "But that was a shrine to the mold you made of it. Speaking of that….was it really your cock?"
I flip her over onto her back, kissing her gently on the lips. "I'm hurt that you couldn't tell."
She tilts her head up to look at me. "So you keep cock-making molds around your house in case of emergencies, or what?" she asks. "How did you have it done by the next morning?"
"It required effort," I admit. Specifically, I had to drive around to adult stores at two in the morning to find a dildo-making kit.