I put my free hand over her mouth as I continue playing with her pussy, mesmerized as I always am whenever I make her come. I've memorized her different expressions, but they never grow old.
She grabs my thigh and digs her nails into my chaps, her muffled sounds echoing around us.
I growl, "That's it, sugar. You sit in the stands nice and wet for me. When I finish showing everyone in this town who the new champion is, I'm going to tear up your pussy until you can't walk tomorrow."
Another incoherent noise vibrates against my hand, and her knees give out, but I've got her pinned between the door and my body. She trembles harder against me, and her eyes close. She's right where I want her, about to spiral out of control.
I tear my hand out of her shorts.
Her eyes fly open, and desperation fills them.
"Naughty girls don't get rewarded," I taunt, sticking my fingers in my mouth to lick off her taste, which only tortures my cock more.
She stares at me, taking deep, hitching breaths.
I take my fingers out of my mouth, then spin her around to face me. I order, "Now, give me a proper good luck kiss."
Her lips curve into a sultry smile. She reaches for my cheeks, slides her tongue against mine, and sets my blood boiling for several minutes.
I force myself to retreat. "You better get out of here before we get caught."
"Okay. Good luck," she offers.
I puff out my chest. "The bull needs the luck, sugar, not me."
She grins, gives me one last chaste kiss, then rises on her tiptoes. Her breath teases my ear as she whispers, "Can't wait to celebrate tonight." Then she licks my earlobe.
A buzzer goes off. I glance at the digital clock on the wall, then groan. I squeeze her ass, mumbling, "Me either. Now, get out of here."
She retreats, pinning her dazzling smile on me, then steps aside.
I inch the door open, then stick my head out to make sure no one is around. I nod for her to go, and she disappears.
I shut the door and then take a glance at myself in the mirror, the adrenaline becoming more intense than ever before. I stare at my reflection.
Devil's Backbone is a goner.
I'm going to dominate him.
Eight seconds.
The air in my lungs turns stale. My nerves vibrate. I take a final look and then head for the door. I step outside the dressing room, and see Willow exit into the arena.
"There you are!" Coach Jax booms.
I spin toward him. "Had to get ready."
"Cutting it close," he scolds.
I ignore him and move toward the rider's exit. "It's all good."
"Wyatt," he calls out.
I freeze and turn back. "Yeah?"
He taps his head. "Use it today."
"I am. I will."
