One brow arches like a blade. “Or what?”
“Winner gets fucked?” She winks.
“So, basically, a win-win?”
She smirks. Oh, that smirk. I want to wipe it off her face. With my mouth. Or my cock. Yeah, definitely the latter.
The engines roar to life.
Game on.
Shelby raises the flag and yanks it down. Maya and Rishi take off. Sand sprays in every direction, the crowd erupting with cheers. Jeremy screams something about “JUSTICE FOR MY PEOPLE” at a pitch that could shatter glass.
I don’t ask. I never ask.
Maya handles the terrain like it’s personal. Rishi’s hot on her heels. When she nearly wipes out in a patch of deep sand, Rishi closes the gap. But she holds strong, skidding just ahead of him.
“Come on, Maya!” Rorie shouts, bouncing up and down, which, in turn, makes her tits bounce up and down.
Fuck. Me.
Rishi gains on Maya just as they hit another checkpoint. Maya barely manages to edge him out, before leaping off the ATV and sprinting toward Jeremy, who’s already mounting his ride.
Maya and Jeremy tag.
Come on, Rishi.
Before he takes off, Jeremy turns his head toward me, narrows his eyes, and declares in a voice that could summon a legion, “THIS IS FOR THE FALLEN.”
Who are the fallen?
Again. Not asking.
I crack my knuckles and shake out my shoulders. My turn is coming fast.
Rishi, never one to back down, burns rubber to the final checkpoint. He overshoots it and eats dust. But he recovers quickly and rushes toward me.
“GO!” he shouts, smacking my back with enough force to knock out a lung.
I’m off like a shot. ATV humming, sand exploding behind me. My blood thrums with speed and instinct.
I’m in control here. This—I understand.
Every turn is precision. Every bump, every curve, I read it like a map. I catch Jeremy in the corner of my eye and gun it, pushing harder. The ramp looms, and I hit it clean, landing smoother than I expected.
Jeremy, on the other hand?
He hits the ramp like it personally insulted his mother.
Airborne, he flails one arm like he’s lassoing invisible cattle, the other clutching the handlebars for dear life. “YEEHAW, BITCHES!”
He lands with a bounce that sends his helmet askew and one of his flip-flops flying into oblivion.
“Did you just lose a shoe?!” I shout.
“Sacrifices must be made!” he calls back, wildly unbothered. “Besides, I race better asymmetrical!”
I inch ahead, every second earned. I push hard, taking turns fast, catching sight of my opponent up ahead. I lean into the curves, controlling the throttle with precision, every instinct locked in on closing the distance.
