Brake Fade – The heat in the rotors of a car can reach five thousand degrees Fahrenheit and when the fluid inside the brake begins to boil, bubbles will form in the brake line and calipers. When this happens the brakes get softer and won’t work as good as they once did.

 

My body was so completely exhausted from these last two weeks that I actually felt sick.

All things considered, this was a feeling I was growing accustomed to this last week.

Rolling over onto my back, something hard and not the hard I was used to waking up with either.

Reaching underneath of me to pull out whatever it was I found a beer bottle. Groaning, I tossed it aside, only the thump it made didn’t sound like the floor.

“Owww...” Emma yelped.

What was Emma doing in here? More importantly, where is here?

Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I attempted to decipher my surroundings, blinking vigorously until my vision improved enough to see.

I appeared to be in a hotel room, a very white hotel room. Squinting once again, my eyes adjusted slightly to the brightness.

My God, it’s like an insane asylum.

I looked around for padded walls but saw none. At least I hadn’t been committed last night.

Rolling over, I covered my aching head with a pillow.

No one else seemed to be in bed with me so I sprawled out, I could determine where I was later, sleep was far more important.

My head was hurting too badly for this bright ass room.

I needed darkness, lots and lots of darkness.

Who uses white paint these days anyway? Aren’t people into the earthy tones?

Lying there, I noticed how incredibly sore I was below. This gave me a few concerning thoughts.

For one, my ass seemed to be fairly tender and I had some strict rules about the rear access. I hoped that wasn’t the reason behind this particular soreness, otherwise Jameson was cut the fuck off.

With a heavy, but female sigh, movement beside the bed caught my attention so I turned over again to see Emma with her head resting on the bedside, staring at me.

“Nice tattoo, Sway,” she whispered with a smug smile, her black spiky hair looked similar to a porcupine.

“What tattoo?” I turned over on my back to realize that it was the side of my ass that hurt. Not just any hurt, like really bad hurt, and burned.

Emma pointed south. “The one on your ass that says: ‘Property of Riley.’”

Yes, she used air quotes.

I groaned loudly. “Not again!”

How was I ever going to explain “crooked lips” and “Property of Riley” to someone if I didn’t end up with Jameson?

All the more reason to marry him.

Emma giggled and turned around to busy herself with a bottle of water.

I burst into laughter, and not just “ha, ha” that’s funny kind of laughter, but piss on yourself laughter. I barely had enough control over myself to speak at the sight of the back of her neck.

“What?!” Emma asked hysterically. “What are you laughing at?”

Words couldn’t be formed. I pointed to the back of her neck and fell back on the bed in a fit of uproarious laughter. I don’t think I’d laughed that hard since the time Jameson and I branded those cows back in high school and mistakenly branded Spencer as well.

Concerned, and for good reason, Emma ran around the room screaming while searching for a mirror. Once she found one in the bathroom, I forgot all about my sore ass and laughed to the point that I actually had to squeeze my legs together to keep from peeing.

“OH MY GOD!” she screeched. “My dad is going to kill me!”

I threw my arms behind my head. “Nice tattoo, Emma.”

She ran out of the bathroom and jumped beside me, shaking the entire bed.

“Sway, what am I going to do?” she stared at me wide-eyed. “Maybe it’s a press on?” she considered, and then proceeded to try to wipe it off. “Holy mother ...” she winced, her eyes wider, if that was even possible. “That is not a press on.”

“I could have told you that,” I mumbled from under my pillow.

“At least yours is on your ass.” She kicked me. “How am I going to cover this up? I should have never cut my hair shorter the other day.”

“It’s not that bad,” I offered up. “Just get extensions put in your hair. Or wear turtlenecks.”

“It’s not that bad?” she repeated incredulously. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

I shook my head under the pillow throwing my arms up in the air dramatically. I really wanted to go back to sleep.

Emma ripped the pillow away glaring at me. “The back of my neck says: ‘If you’re close enough to read this, you better be pullin’ my hair and spankin’ my ass!’” Her eyes bugged out. “It is ‘that bad,’ Sway!” And yes, again she used air quotes. “It’s like some ... horrible license plate frame saying you’d get from Trash R Us.”

“I think it’s funny.” I giggled once.

“You would!” she snarled.

I sat up in bed and punched her tiny shoulder. “That was uncalled for, take it back.”

She burst into tears. “I’m sorry. I’m just ...” she wailed louder. “I th-th-thought y-y-you h-h-had to be s-s-sober to get a t-t-tattoo?” she hiccupped. “Don’t you?”

“Most places,” I sighed. “But honey, what did you really expect from a tattoo parlor next to a bar?”

Rubbing her back softly, my poor little pixie Emma cried louder and crumbled in my lap.

At least her tattoo was nice writing, it was a pretty elegant script, not tacky like you’d think it would be by the phrase she inadvertently chose.

“Wake up you intoxicated whores!” Alley shouted deliberately as loud as possible slamming the door behind her.

Both Emma and I groaned, covering our ears.

She stepped inside the bedroom, dressed in a cream-colored business suit. “Nice to see you two among the living today.”

“Why do you look so nice today?” I asked still petting Emma who was cradled to my chest like a baby kangaroo, still crying.

“Bitch please—I always look nice,” Alley chided. “What’s the matter with her?” she motioned to Emma.

I gave Emma a comforting squeeze and kissed her porcupine head. “She’s upset about her tattoo,” I whispered, because talking at a normal volume even hurt my head.

“Well she should have thought about that before she drank four Long Island iced teas and helped you finish off a fifth of tequila, now shouldn’t she?”

“Jesus Alley,” I balked, “harsh much? She was only having a good time.”

“I don’t feel sorry for any of you. She,” Alley pointed to Emma who was now staring at the two of us in our heated conversation, “should have said no when Spencer told her what to write.”

Emma snapped into action. “First of all, she is still in the goddamn room and she would like to be referred to in the first person. And second,” her gaze narrowed at Alley, “Spencer did what?”

I was actually worried about Emma. The vein in her forehead was bright blue and looked like it was about to burst at any moment. Just to be sure, I poked it with my index finger. The vein squished under my touch.

“Where is Spencer?” Emma glared slapping my hand away. “I’m gonna kill him.”

I sat back on the bed tossing the pillow over my face again.

Unfortunately, for me, my surprises for the morning were not over once I was lying there. It was awfully breezy down below.

Reaching south, I checked out the situation and sure enough, I had no underwear on.

“Damn it,” I mumbled to myself.

Now what am I going to do for underwear?

Maybe Jameson had some in here, or I could go commando because he’s apparently not here to realize that I’m not wearing any.

At least I had someone’s shirt on and a bra.

Then I thought, where in the hell is Jameson?

Emma, planning Spencer’s execution, was scrambling around the room trying to find clothes to wear because she was only in Aiden’s button down shirt and cowboy boots. Why she wore cowboy boots to sleep is beyond me, but, clearly, we weren’t thinking last night judging by the tattoos.

“Where is Spencer?” Emma asked again pulling on her jeans she found near the door.

“I have no idea,” Alley answered, not looking up from her Blackberry. “The last time I saw them they were puking behind the hotel.”

“How do you not know where they are?” I asked confused. “Didn’t you stay here last night?”

What in the hell happened last night?

“No,” finally Alley looked up with an amused expression. “After Jameson puked in the Expedition for the second time, I booked this hotel room for you guys and I stayed at the Hilton down the street. I needed sleep and you guys ... well I have no idea what went on after you came back here. Obviously sleep didn’t occur.” She looked over at the wall and took a double take, her mouth falling open.

Both Emma and I followed her gaze to the wall and gasped as well.

And there, on the very white wall was a very large ... dick, spray-painted from floor to ceiling, complete with hairy balls and veins.

Hairy balls and veins weren’t the worst part. The worst part was how real it actually looked. It was disturbing that someone could draw something that well with spray paint.

Eventually we averted our gaze from the monstrous dick on the wall and finally looked around the rest of the room for the first time. It seemed, in our discovery of the tattoos, we never noticed the pure insanity throughout the room.

There were probably a hundred beer bottles scattered throughout the room. Pillows were everywhere along with sheets, blankets, and the curtains from the windows.

You’d think a toga party was thrown in here or something. In the corner was a blown up bouncy house with what looked to be an entire grocery store’s supply of unrolled toilet paper stuffed into it.

Next to it was an actual kiddy swimming pool with God knows what in it, but judging by the abundance of pudding cups throughout the room, I presumed it was pudding. At that point, I hoped it was pudding.

“I’m so glad I used Jameson’s credit card and not mine for this,” Alley replied stepping over some beer bottles and pudding cups.

“So you have no idea where any of the boys are?” Emma asked wrapping toilet paper from the bouncy house around her neck like a scarf.

“No, I said I didn’t know where Spencer and Aiden were,” Alley clarified. “Jameson is meeting with his team and Phillip to decide if they are appealing the fines NASCAR issued this morning.” She threw the newspaper at me.

On the front page of the Pocono Record was a picture of Darrin’s car upside down with a headline:

 

Rowdy Riley fined $25,000 for Aggressive Driving

NASCAR penalized Jameson Riley, driver of the No. 9 Ford Simplex car 60 points, fined him $25,000 and put him on probation through the end of the season for aggressive driving in the Winston Cup Series race Sunday afternoon at Pocono International Raceway.

Darrin Torres, driver of the No. 14 Wyle Products Chevy, who was involved in the incident with Riley, was placed on probation though the end of the year for aggressive driving, as well.

The penalties issued Monday stem from lap 194 of the Gillette Fusion ProGlide 500, where Torres and Riley were racing for third place. Torres went up the track for a block on the second stretch when Riley hit Torres, wrecking him.

Torres’s car hit both the outside and inside walls before becoming airborne in the infield. The accident collected at least seven cars.

“They will both be on probation through the end of the year.” NASCAR Vice President of Competition, Gordon Reynolds, said.

Earlier this season, Torres was placed on three-week probation for retaliating against Riley in the Winston Cup race at Dover. In that race, the retaliation resulted in Riley being hit by Torres after the checkered flag had been thrown on pit road.

Then we all know what happened in the Winston with the backyard brawl on the finish line where these two sparred.

“They have a history with each other dating back to their USAC days,” Reynolds told us. “We had talked to both drivers after the Dover. And even though Darrin was put on probation, we had conversations with Riley about their relationship and told both of them that there needed to be boundaries on the track. Now we look at Pocono and you look at what we feel like was Darrin misjudging his corner and pit road space and then you look at the retaliation by Jameson coming out of turn two. It’s out of control and effecting other drivers now.”

Reynolds said the penalties are designed to keep the two drivers from retaliating in the future and affecting the other drivers, should there be any.

By losing 60 points, Riley is now 228 behind Torres with 23 races left in the championship.

The Riley Simplex Racing No. 9 team was also docked 60 points in the owner standings. Riley Simplex Racing has not decided whether to appeal and declined to comment on the penalties at this time but did have this to say.

When asked if Jameson would be commenting on the penalties, Riley Simplex Racing declined to comment.

Maggie Summers, a reporter with ESPN, caught up with Jameson last night in downtown Pocono, the aggressive driving penalty was the least of his worries.

When asked about his thoughts on the race, his response was, “What race?” as he took another shot of tequila.

Gibson Racing will not appeal Torres’s penalty, according to a statement released by the team earlier this morning.

“The incident at the end of Sunday’s race at Pocono was unfortunate not just for Gibson Racing and the No. 14 Wyle Products Chevy team, but for all everyone,” Torres said in the statement early Monday morning. “It didn’t need to happen and that was one of our best cars. All in all, we support NASCAR’s decision.”

 

 

This was disgusting. This was... I had no words.

How could they make it out to just be his fault?

“Can you believe the nerve of them?” Emma asked.

“What did he think was going to happen?” Alley reproached. “I mean... he’s not a child. Well... that’s debatable, but he knew what would happen when he hit Darrin.”

She did have a point, but the way NASCAR painted the picture in this article, it made it seem that Jameson was doing all the retaliation and Darrin had no part of it.

“Was Darrin fined or put on probation?” I asked wrapping a sheet from the floor around my waist so I could use the bathroom and maybe find underwear.

If I couldn’t, I was making a pair like the one Emma did with the scarf. They did that in the stone-age, right?

“Nope,” Alley replied. “They’re not going to fine NASCAR’s golden boy.”

“Unbelievable.” I stepped over the kiddy pool to get to the bathroom. Emma looked in the bouncy house for her cell phone. “See if my underwear is in there!” I yelled over my shoulder.

Taking in a deep breath, I closed the bathroom door behind me, letting the sheet fall to the floor. I wasn’t sure I wanted to see this but I might as well get it over with.

It’d been a while since I examined my own ass. Not exactly expecting the size, it’d grown since the last time that was for sure.

Carefully, balancing myself on the counter, I surveyed my new artwork.

My God.

There, on my left ass cheek, was a square box with the words, “Property of Riley” imprinted in it.

The goddamn thing even had red along the outside edges as if it was meant to look like an actual branding with an iron. It wasn’t tiny either; the tattoo almost covered the entire side of the cheek.

There goes my modeling career as an ass model.

I took a quick shower because God knew I needed it. I smelled as if I just came from a distillery in Guadalajara and my hair felt as though whatever was in the kiddy pool was in my hair.

Wrapping my sheet around myself, I walked back into the war zone hoping to find some clothing and underwear.

Emma and Alley were staring at the dick on the wall once again. It was as if they had some kind of obsession with it.

“Did you guys find the boys?” I asked joining them at staring at the wall.

It was sick how fucking real that looked.

Imagine the poor cleaning lady who has to clean this disaster. I bet she’ll get a good laugh out of it, though.

“Yeah, they are getting some coffee up the street.” Alley replied. “They’re on their way back now, with Jameson.”

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” I asked hesitantly. “How bad of a mood is he in?”

“What do you think?” her tone mocking. “When is it ever a good thing with him?”

Today was going to suck.

Alley left after a few minutes to fly back to Mooresville with Jimi to get Lane, which would leave Spencer traveling back with us.

Though this was a major concern for me, I was more concerned with Jameson’s mood as it could either make or break the entire day and maybe even the rest of my time on this vacation from reality.

Still staring at the dick, I had a feeling Spencer was behind it.

It was something he would do, although I wouldn’t put it past Jameson or even Aiden.

Aiden may seem like this polite, reserved southern boy from Pickard, Alabama, but he was far from that when you got a few beers in him, which was why he mixed well with all of us.

Thankfully, before the boys arrived, I found my jeans from last night but I was still wearing Jameson’s t-shirt. I had no idea where mine was.

“Do you need these?” Emma asked holding up Jameson’s underwear I wore last night.

“Where were those?” I stepped over a beer tower.

“They were in the closet, along with ... part of your shirt.” She shook her head. “I don’t even want to know what happened in this closet last night.”

“What do you mean part of my shirt?”

She held up half of the black tank top I’d been wearing last night.

“What the hell?” I shouted ripping it from her hand. “What is wrong with your brother? He has some kind of obsession with ripping my clothes off.”

“He’s got anger issues,” she shrugged.

“And he bites me.” The teeth marks from his latest bite were visible on the inside of my thigh.

“He was a biter in kindergarten,” she told me. “He got sent home from school for it and spent a good part of first grade in timeouts, too. I see he hasn’t grown out of it.”

“What went wrong between you three kids? I mean, Jimi and Nancy are completely normal. Then you have Spencer who is just ... insane. Jameson is borderline psychotic, and then there is you ... the little pixie sister who tattoos license plate frames on her neck.”

Emma shoved me inside the closet. “You’re not any better. You can’t even find your underwear.” She sounded like a damn child. I was waiting for her to stick her tongue out.

“Because, your psychotic brother ripped them off like he was the Hulk,” I pointed out and stuck my tongue out for good measure.

“We should go shopping.”

I was amazed at how quickly her mood changed. A moment ago she looked like she was going to kill me for saying her family was strange, and now she was cuddled beside me in a closet with her head on my shoulder.

“Yeah, we should go shopping. I need underwear,” I agreed. “Is he always like this?”

“Is who always like this?”

“Jameson, was he like this with all the other girls?”

“What other girls?”

“The ones he would sleep with. Did they have to go shopping all the time for clothing, too?”

Emma looked over at me and raised her eyebrows. “Jameson never has other girls around.”

“Huh?”

“He doesn’t bring anyone else around,” she repeated. “Besides Chelsea in high school, you’re the only other girl any of us have ever officially met.”

“Really?” I played with my ripped shirt in my hands, hoping I didn’t appear too transparent. “I thought ... I mean he used to be such a slut.”

“Maybe the first year after you left for college, but we never met any of them and then when he started racing in the Busch series, it slowly trickled off and we never saw him with anyone. If he was with anyone, he kept it discreet.”

He wasn’t lying when he said he stopped sleeping around. Not that I thought he would lie to me about it, but it made me feel better coming from Emma who spent nearly every day with him.

“Don’t tell him this,” she whispered and I don’t know why she was whispering. We were only sitting inches from each other and there is no one else in the room. “I think he’s falling in love with you.”

“I wish,” I stated sarcastically.

“No, I think he is. You should have seen his face when he saw Darrin talking to you the other day. He looked ... jealous, like boyfriend jealous. I don’t know, I’ve always thought he felt more for you than friends. Now his actions are the same.”

“I’m not getting my hopes up.”

Before Emma could say any more, the boys came barreling through the door.

And if I thought we looked bad I was wrong ... we looked like cover models compared to them.

Aiden’s blonde curly hair was just as bad as Emma’s was. You could tell he tried to tame it but it was still everywhere. He had no shoes or socks on and he was wearing Emma’s shirt from last night. But what really caught my attention was because he was wearing Emma’s shirt, and it was revealing about two inches of the curve of his hips, there was a tattoo plastered across his lower abdomen that said: Mount Up.

I giggled.

Then I looked at Spencer who came in behind Aiden. Again with no shoes or socks on and a Mohawk. He looked sick. His face was pale with dark circles under his eyes and his hands were full of Rock Star energy drinks.

And then Jameson came in.

Besides the fact that his hair appeared to also have the same pudding in it, as mine once had, it didn’t look as bad as Aiden’s. He was just as pale as Spencer but was dressed a whole hell of a lot better in his black suit, the tie loosened from around his neck with the top few buttons of his white button down shirt undone.

Holy Mississippi leg hound.

I don’t think Spencer ever saw her coming as Emma all but flew through the air at him.

“You motherfucker!” she screamed jumping on his back like some kind of wild chimp. His Rock Star drinks crashed to the ground.

“What the fuck ...” he yelled back at her. “Oh God, stop screaming, my head fucking hurts.”

Aiden and Jameson tried to pull her away but she never let up. She was like a Chihuahua that latched on and wouldn’t let up until it shed blood.

In his attempt to get her loose, they stumbled together into the kiddy pudding pool. She finally let go, but sat there wiping pudding away and seething at him. “You’re such a fucking jerk, Spencer!”

“What are you talking about?” he snapped back at her while also wiping away the pudding.

Aiden was holding Emma back and noticed what she was yelling about when her makeshift scarf of toilet paper fell loosely around her shoulders.

His eyes widened as he read it. “Holy shit.” He turned her around to look at him, his eyes wide with panic. “You’re growing your hair out.”

“No shit,” she snapped back and then pushed him. “Where were you on that one? You didn’t think to stop him from convincing me to do this?”

“Like I was in any condition to stop anyone,” he lifted her shirt that he was wearing. “If so, I would have never done this,”

Emma fell backward into the pudding pool again in a fit of laughter. Spencer and Jameson finally noticed Aiden’s tattoo of “Mount Up,” as well. Jameson had to lean against the wall to keep from falling over while his entire body shook with silent laughs.

I hadn’t stopped giggling since they walked in. I was like the Pillsbury Doughboy.

Look, we have ridiculous tattoos, hehehe! Look there’s pudding everywhere, hehehe! Look, there’s a dick on the wall, hehehe!

Still laughing, I watched as the boys surveyed the room. They too looked surprised by the kiddy pool, beer, and toilet paper everywhere but were flabbergasted at the dick on the wall.

Seriously, I don’t think you can grasp how large it was. To give you a mental picture, the ceiling in this particular room had to be at least fifteen feet tall. So if you have never seen a fifteen foot tall spray painted dick complete with hairy balls and veins on a wall—you’re missing out.

Look, there’s a dick on the wall, hehehe!

With my maturity level exceptionally low today, I couldn’t stop myself. I was actually crying on the floor beside Jameson.

“Who drew that?” Emma finally asked pointing to it.

Aiden and Jameson both responded with, “Spencer,” at the same time.

Spencer nodded arrogantly.

“It’s pretty fucking awesome, huh?”

“No, what’s awesome is going to be watching you explain your new haircut and the tramp stamp on your back to Alley.” Jameson laughed.

“What tramp stamp?” Emma and I asked curiously.

Spencer started backing toward the wall so we couldn’t see, but with the help of Aiden and Jameson, we managed to tackle him to the ground and pull up his shirt for a better view.

Right above his ass crack was “Insert coin to bust a move.”

This was all too much to really believe.

I looked over at Jameson sitting against the wall still shaking with laughter. “How did you manage not to get branded in all this?”

Jameson’s eyes flickered to Aiden and Spencer and then back to mine.

Before he could say anything, Spencer laughed a loud booming laugh that had all of us covering our ears. “He didn’t. He got it worse than all of us.”

Jameson smiled once and looked away, panic evident in his features.

“How did he get it worse? Emma asked jumping on Jameson. “What does his say?”

“Get off me,” Jameson grumbled running into the bathroom slamming the door behind him.

All of us looked at Spencer for an answer but he shook his head. “I’m not saying, after the morning he had ... he can tell you what they say.”

“What do you mean ‘they?’” I asked curiously.

“Like I said, they, now ask him.” Spencer turned to his masterpiece on the wall. “Goddamn, that’s talent.” He nodded, pleased with himself and his art ability.

I heard the shower running so I decided to sneak in the bathroom to find out for myself what his tattoos said.

“Jameson?” I asked inching the door open hesitantly.

“Yeah,” his voice muffled from the spraying water. Steam drifted in loops around me when the door closed.

“Can I come in?”

“Sure.”

Making sure it was locked, I asked, “Are you okay?” as I leaned against the counter.

“I’m fine.” Without seeing his expression, I knew by the tone, he was rolling his eyes. “Get in here with me.”

“I already took a shower.”

“Sway, I wasn’t asking.” He sighed. “Get in here.”

Of course, the pit lizard in me started stripping away her clothes and stepped inside the glass shower—no need to ask twice.

Jameson was a sight to see with no clothes on and soapy water running off him everywhere.

He smirked, his own eyes wandering. When our eyes finally met, he winked. “Come here, honey.”

Stepping forward, he wrapped his arms tightly around my waist pulling me against his chest.

After a few moments, my curiosity got the best of me. I had to know what those tattoos said. “Jameson?”

“Yeah,” I watched as the water ran down his stomach.

“What does your tattoo say?”

“Which one?” He chuckled a nervous chuckle.

“All of them.” Pulling back, I snuck a glance up at him.

His nose scrunched. “Well, one doesn’t say anything, but strangely resembles these beautiful lips.” He placed two fingers to my lips.

“I already know about that one.”

He nodded.

“All right, well the other ones... let’s see...” He pulled away from me, stood there and then looked down to the promised-land. “That one,” he pointed to his right hipbone not more than two inches above his camshaft, “... says: Sway’s property, and this one,” he pointed to his left hipbone in the same position, “says: Hands off, and this one,” he turned around and pointed to his ass where my lips were, “... says: I told you, hands off, I bite.” His eyes dropped. “I think that’s all of them... that I can see.”

The one on his ass was the funniest because the letters were placed right above the lips.

I started giggling. “What have we done?”

“Obviously, we weren’t thinking last night.”

“Well, that’s debatable,” I suggested, trying to imply I wasn’t too upset about my branding.

He grinned widely. “What does yours say?”

“I didn’t get one.” I lied with a sly grin.

“Yes you did,”

“No I didn’t.”

“Turn around, Sway.”

“No.”

His eyes narrowed. “Sway, turn around.”

“No.”

He shook his head slowly. “You really shouldn’t have said that.” And he lunged for me. I was flipped around in his arms before I even had time to react.

He’s quick.

With my ass pressed against his camshaft, he examined my new branding.

Sure enough, he burst into laughter. “It actually looks like they used an iron.” His fingers traced the outline lightly—I winced. “Sorry,” he mumbled moving his hands to my hips, pushing forward against me. “I like it though.”

“I kind of do, too,” I admitted shyly, looking down at my feet.

“Hey,” he whispered. “Look at me, honey,” he said when I kept turning my head away. His hand caught my cheek forcing me to look at him. And though I resisted out of embarrassment, when I finally did look at him, he smiled. “You can get it removed if you want.” His stare was laced with vigilance as he gauged my reaction.

Shrugging, I told him. “I’ll keep it.”

He winked. “I’m definitely keeping mine.” He actually looked proud.

“Really?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Now he actually looked offended.

“What are you going to do when you have a girlfriend? Don’t you think she might have something to say about this?” I hedged.

He hesitated for a second before he spoke, his eyes dropping from mine. “It won’t be a problem.” His words didn’t match his expression. He looked upset, maybe even uncomfortable that I said that.

Offering me a quick smile, he turned away to rinse the shampoo out of his pudding hair.

Fearing my own expression would falter, I decided to change the subject.

“Do you remember anything from last night?” I washed his back for him, running my fingers up his long lean muscles and over the sharp defined ridges of each shoulder.

His breathing caught when my hands reached around and followed the lines of his hip and down the inside of his thigh.

With my chest pressed against his back now, I could feel the quick rise and fall of each one of his strained deep breaths as though they were my own.

Jameson’s hands moved from his hair to rest against the shower wall, his head fell forward against the tile when my hands found his camshaft and stroked it once.

This was the only distraction I could come up with.

“Huh?” he finally asked.

“What do you remember from last night?” I repeated in a low seductive whisper.

Jameson inhaled a shaky breath; I stroked him once more, this time squeezing my hand slightly.

“I ... uh ... not very much,” he answered and then swallowed. “I remember the bar ... dancing with you in the middle of the street ...” I kissed his neck. “I remember the tattoo place, kind of, Spencer drawing his masterpiece, and bits and pieces of the closet.”

“Why were we in the closet?” I questioned moving in front of him.

Not waiting for an answer, I pushed him against the wall; I dropped to my knees for a change.

Jameson threw his head back, knocking against the tile once again moaning when my lips found him.

Slowly, I drew him inside my mouth, earning me another moan of pleasure from him.

I was utterly amazed at how one minute we can be having a serious conversation regarding our feelings for one another, and then the next minute, we were having sex.

Jameson’s hand wrapped tightly in my hair indicating his approval so I continued to suck, swirl, bob, and drag my teeth along his length. He didn’t last long. Within a few minutes of my dedicated ministrations, I could feel him try to pull me away.

Instead, I slapped his hands away, drawing him in deeper. Poor fellow, he only lasted another ten seconds before his head slammed back against the shower wall once again, groaned my name.

“Did you take a class on that or something?” he asked as he fell beside me.

“Yeah, Micro Polishing 101,” I replied, splashing some water on my face. “I got an ‘A’ by the way.”

He laughed pulling me into his arms so I was sitting on his lap, straddling him. His expression was, yet again, unreadable as he stared deep into my eyes. It was as if he was searching for an answer to a question, but I hadn’t heard him ask anything.

“What?” I asked softly, embarrassed by the silence and slightly scared of what he was going to say or what he was thinking for that matter.

“Sway, I ...” he paused, his brow furrowed as he continued to stare at me with a nervous expression. His hand rose to cradle the apple of my cheek, his fingers brushing over my lips.

Blinking slowly, his stare faltered. Instead of finishing what he was going to say, he leaned in pressing his lips to my forehead once.

I leaned forward wrapping my arms around his neck pulling my body flush against his. His arms wrapped instinctively around my waist, cradling me to him. This embrace was different from the previous embraces we shared, it seemed ... affectionate?

Maybe Emma is right. Maybe my plan is working.

If it wasn’t working, I truly hoped there was a support group for pit lizards who got their heart broken because I was going to need one after this.

While I was thinking this, Jameson’s lips never left my wet skin, licking, sucking and biting my neck and shoulders. His mouth was soft, his lips were warm and the stubble on his face was coarse.

I soon realized while Jameson’s need may have been met just moments ago, mine had not. Pressed against me, wet and ready, he was ready for rotation again.

Pulling his mouth from my neck, I brought it to my lips.

His mouth attacked me with frantic kisses. Reaching between us, he lifted me up so he could slide inside, with his signature low growl.

Gasping this ridiculously loud porn star moan when he entered me, his arms curled around my shoulders, pulling me into him with each avid thrust. His arms were thick and tense, the muscles flexing as he pushed and pulled me against him. His chest was a solid wall of muscle, rippling and defining with every movement he made.

Hot damn.

Arching my back in response to all this, his mouth found my nipples again as he started kissing and nipping at my chest.

It was amazing but Spencer had other ideas and started pounding his fist on the door.

Ignoring him, Jameson nipped across my chest, his nose swept between the valley, and the stubble on his cheek scraped across my sensitive skin. My moaning continued and earned me a chuckle from him.

“Fuck, you really like that, don’t you?” Jameson asked in a low throaty voice.

“What do you think?” I moaned sarcastically.

He chuckled again. “You’re adorable.” He sucked my lower lip in his mouth biting gently.

Suddenly everything turned serious, our movements sped and we became determined.

“I just... can’t get enough of you,” he panted against my lips desperately searching for more. “You’re all I think about... all the time, I can’t stop.”

“I know the feeling,” I panted.

Without the slightest bit of warning, my whole body flushed with heat and I burst into flames deep in my belly.

“God that’s so good, Jameson!” I screamed with absolutely no volume control.

He slammed me down on him harder.

“Shit,” he growled out as the word “fuck” fell from his lips, and he buried his face in my neck, thrusting erratically into me until he was shaking.

Running my fingers through his wet hair, we both sucked in a labored breath.

After last night and as wonderful as this was, I had a feeling I was going to be incredibly sore real soon.

Before we could really come down from the endorphins settling nicely in our sex-crazed, tattooed bodies, the water turned freezing cold, and Spencer was nearly beating the door down.

“I fucking hate him sometimes,” Jameson grumbled as we dried off.

“I know the feeling, sport,” I agreed slapping his tattooed ass with my towel.

He gave me another grin before dressing in his suit.

When we opened the door, three questioning expressions greeted our flushed appearances.

I personally didn’t think we were that loud, but their gazes told me otherwise.

Spencer grumbled to himself for a minute and then pushed Jameson out of the way. “I’ve had to piss for like an hour you assholes.” He stomped into the bathroom slamming the door behind him.

This left Emma and Aiden still staring at us. Jameson and I both looked at each other and then back to them.

“What?” Jameson asked all defensively.

“Nothing,” they both said at the same time and busied themselves with cleaning up the room.

Jameson looked around the room and laughed. “Don’t worry about cleaning up. I already gave them my credit card downstairs. They said they’d take care of everything.” His eyes flickered to the mammoth dick on the wall. “But, we should... uh... cover that up. Somehow.”

Look, there’s a dick on the wall, hehehe!

Aiden and Jameson looked around for some more spray paint while Emma and I gathered our bags. Once they found some spray paint, they proceeded to paint over it but not before they took about a hundred pictures of us posing by it.

Spencer joined in and was very sad that we were covering up his artwork.  He pouted like his son would for a good twenty minutes.

Before heading back to Mooresville we stopped for some food at a local diner.

While eating, we started talking about what happened last night and who remembered what. As it turned out, it was hardly anything at all.

Jameson was sitting in front of me beside Spencer in the booth when I started giggling at how much he was eating. In a matter of ten minutes, he ate eight pieces of bacon, two slices of toast, a mountain of hash browns and now he was working on his egg whites.

I think he knew what I was about to say. Naturally most people in our circle knew my feelings on egg whites.

“Stop looking at me like that. Egg white are good for you,” he offered up when he noticed my questioning glance. “Good protein. It would be good for your energy if you tried some.” He winked, his fork drifting my way briefly as if to offer me a bite.

I personally thought egg whites looked like snot and refused to eat them but sure enough, I said exactly what I was thinking in that moment.

Smiling, I chewed the last of my toast as Jameson watched me with narrowed eyes. I think he knew what I was going to say.

“Well, uh, so is your oil leak,” I gestured south with a wink, trying my hand at teasing him, “but you don’t see me drinking that for protein and energy. Though I might try it sometime.” I told him, and then winked.

Jameson, who was in the midst of taking a drink of orange juice, must have inhaled and then to compensate, sprayed orange juice all over his egg whites and me.

“You jerk.” I glared wiping myself off. “I can’t believe you did that.”

“I can’t believe you said that.” Jameson said, wiping his own shirt clean of his breakfast.

“I can.” Emma shook her head because really, that statement shouldn’t surprise anyone who knew me.

“That was awesome,” Spencer said through a series of snorts.

At least that was what I thought he said. He did have an entire mouth full of food, so really, he could have said anything.

The rest of breakfast was quiet and surprisingly, I didn’t say anything else to embarrass myself any further.

When we were finally in the car Alley rented for us, another mini-van, Jameson finally spoke of his meeting with Simplex and his dad this morning.

“So you’re on probation?” Aiden asked.

“Yeah,” Jameson sighed looking down at his cell phone he was currently answering emails on. “I got fined twenty-five thousand and probation for the rest of the season.”

“That’s bullshit!” Spencer barked from the driver seat. “They know damn well it was his fault.”

“Believe me, I know,” Jameson agreed with a roll of his eyes. “But what else am I going to do? Phillip thinks it’s in our best interest not to appeal the decision and just keep our nose clean for the remainder of the season.”

“What do dad and Randy say?” Emma asked making herself a scarf out of a napkin she stole from the restaurant.

Resourceful little thing she was.

“Dad was too pissed to say anything and Randy, well, you know Randy, he did a lot of screaming. I’m not really sure what all he said,” Jameson admitted. His eyes remained on his phone, but he shrugged once. “My head hurt too badly to argue with them, so I just sat there.”

“So, what are you going to do about Darrin?” Spencer asked pulling into the airport parking lot.

“I’m going to find the motherfucker away from the track and finish what he started,” Jameson replied, point blank.

You couldn’t threaten a guy like Jameson Riley and get away with it. You couldn’t try to control him either without pushback. That was something Darrin Torres was about to learn the hard way.

You see, the more you pushed him, the more he defied you. Back when he raced USAC, I saw this side of him more times than not and every time, his reactions remained the same. Defiance.