Me: How’s it going?
It didn’t take her long to reply.
Ashley: Good. You?
Me: Wondering if you’re missing me yet.
Ashley: Awe. That’s sweet. I am.
I wanted more than anything to tell her I wanted her . . . but I knew she was trying to move on and start a relationship with someone, and for some ungodly known reason I couldn’t stop thinking about Paislie. I was using Ashley as a means to distract my thoughts.
Me: Miss you too, Ashley. How is the new relationship going?
Ashley: It’s going good. Are you okay?
I clenched my jaw while I picked up my pace. I was happy for Ashley. I honestly was. At the same time I was jealous as hell that some fucker was getting her all to himself.
Me: Doing great. About to get focused. Was thinking about you.
Ashley: Good luck today, Malcolm.
Me: Thanks, Ash. Talk to you later.
I needed to clear my head. As I approached my bus, I saw a few girls hanging out talking to Tom, the rookie who took over Emmit’s spot.
He glanced up and smiled as he motioned to the blonde with his head. “Malcolm, you’ve got a die-hard fan here who’s been wanting to meet you.”
With a smile, I walked up while she looked down at Deuce. “Oh my goodness! He’s adorable.” When she looked back up at me from a squatting position, she licked her lips.
“Why don’t you come in and get to know him better,” I said with a wink.
Her eyes lit up as Tom chuckled.
Five minutes later my jeans were down and she was sucking me off. My hands grabbed her head as I fucked her mouth, trying like hell to forget those green eyes haunting my every thought.
Russ spoke in my ears as I came into my pit box. “Five, four, three, two, one.”
“Four tires and fuel. Make that track bar adjustment, go!” Dalton called out.
“Clear,” Russ said.
“Go. Go. Go,” Dalton said as I took off back onto the track. I was sitting in t
hird place and my car was finally driving right.
“Where is Tom?” I asked.
“Running in tenth,” Russ said.
I spent the next ten laps focusing on one thing. Winning.
“Bumper. Door. Door. Bumper. Clear!”
Passing the number eleven car pushed me into first place with six laps to go. I fucking loved this feeling. The feel of the car flying around the track, the power of controlling it was an adrenaline rush for sure.
“So, if I win . . . we’re jumping, right?” I asked Dalton.
“Drive!” he replied with as I smiled.