With my racing suit on, I’m sweating a bit since it’s a sunny day yet one of my teammates from the Ducati team is holding an umbrella over my head while the rest speak into their headsets.
The race is going to start in a few minutes and I’m placed in the front row, pole position—first on the grid which is the fastest rider’s lineup that is decided during qualifying.
The show takes place over the weekends for three days, during the afternoon. Sometimes it is one day. Every rider must sleep eight hours before the race and complete the practices before the main event.
I won the world championship last year. My goal is to win it at least three times and more if I decide to continue and if I can break some records, I will.
I stretch my back as much as I can in this suit while adrenaline starts to kick into my system. The fueled energy pumps my blood while I shake my hands at my sides.
The first warmup lap is about to start as everyone gets ready and clears the racetrack. The red and blue flashing lights projected from the two vehicles behind us with security teams in case of an emergency and other medical teams scattered across the track.
I grab the handles, shift to first gear, and off we go once the green flag is being waved.
The loud engines encase me as I focus and lead the warmup lap, leaning over the corners and using my feet, knees, and elbows to pass them successfully. Every two seconds there’s a corner that examines the skills of the riders. Stay fast,don’t crush or lean too far, and keep it for twenty-five laps after—which is the actual race.
Anything can happen. Anyone can pass me even from the last positions. Nothing is guaranteed. I have to stay sharp and on high alert at all times. Keep going forward but watch my back as well.
The smooth gear transitions seamlessly as I lean to every curve and maintain my spot.
The warmup lap is over within two minutes with me finishing first as we get back to the same positions we started and wait for the green flag again. I take a deep breath, exhale it and once I see the flag, my bike flies forward and leads again.
Now the race begins.
Meadow
As I make my way to the convenience store, Blakely comes out of her room, straying behind me as I walk forward. “What your little legs can keep up?” I taunt her and kind of missed doing it these last few days.
“Bite me, blackthorn.”
A nickname! I’m excited.
“I will.” I turn my head halfway. “Just tell me where.”
“Or I can find someone else,” she sasses, stopping short when I halt immediately.
“Blakely…” I grit her name between my teeth.
“Oh, he called me by my real name, so he is pissed off, good.” She scoffs back at me. “What? What can you possibly do?” she inches closer, craning her neck, making an effort to stick it in my face in vain, but she’s cute I’ll give her that.
“I won’t let anyone touch you. If you want to try me, be. My. Guest.” I slightly distort my upper lip playfully.
“What about you?”
Our breaths mingle, and her body slowly presses to mine. My cock strains in my sweats, if she’d get a tad bit closer she would feel it too. The narrow slope of her jaw begs to be cagedbetween my fingers.
“What about me?” I reverse her question back at her, turning my ball cap backward.
“You get to sleep around and decide who I get to spend my time with?”
I glide my tongue across the inner side of my mouth. “For your information, I haven’t been with anyone for over a year and no, I’m not deciding for you anything, I’m keeping you safe.”
“Really…?” she looks perplexed but I don’t know about which part.
“Yeah.”
“Well, it doesn’t matter, you don’t own me.”
I turn away from her, rolling my eyes in frustration because she is right. I don’t. I also don’t want her with anyone else here butme. I fix my posture and when I look around, she is gone like fucking Houdini. The place is getting crowded this morning so it is easy to go unnoticed or maybe she’d rather hide behind a few cars than have a conversation with me.
