The smell of her perfume, the softness of her body. Fuck. She was hotter than she realised and I was certain she had no idea what she did to me.
But she’d led me to that shadowy corner. She’d instigated it. She was a temptress.
My groan echoed off the tiles as the shower cubicle steamed up.
I closed my eyes and took myself back to that moment, my fingers brushing the moist edge of her underwear. Her hand grasping my shaft.
I imagined plunging my fingers into her, her eyes widening, her grip on me tightening. I felt each wet thrust of my fingers. But it wasn’t enough. If I’d been able, I’d have hitched her up against that wall and fucked her properly. Fuck.
My right hand worked swiftly, beating my erection like I was racing towards the chequered flag.
With my cock buried deep inside her hot, wet pussy in my mind’s eye, I came with a loud moan, my release hitting the tiled wall in front of me.
It had been what? Nine months since I’d last slept with anyone. I wasn’t a fuckboy like Jax, or a ladies man like Luca. Fucking Luca. Damn him. I did relationships… and not well. But I missed sex since being single. And to have gotten so close tonight, with no cigar… Frustration wasn’t the word for it.
But not just anyone would do, and spanking my own monkey wouldn’t come close. I needed Elena. I needed her like I needed air. Like I needed to win.
Maybe even more.
Chapter Sixteen – Shanghai Race Weekend
Aleksandr Volkov – Qualifying
“Ease off earlier on Turn Eleven, Aleks. That was too hot.”
“Copy.” I loosened my grip on the steering wheel and flexed my fingers. I’d put in a few good times already and even though I started the session tense, I was loosening up now. I was more focused than I’d been in weeks and it showed.
“Nice work,” Mac said in my earpiece. “You’ve got clean air and good delta—push for a flying lap.”
“Copy.” I put my foot down and pushed for a timed lap to get me through Q2.
After the previous night’s rain, the track was wet, but it wasn’t raining for the session, which worked in my favour. The car was responding well to me. I’d had some sleep and somespace. Not seeing Elena seemed to have been good for my mental state.
I soared through the last turn with a feeling like I was flying. I’d crushed my lap, I knew it before Mac said anything.
“That’s P1 for Q2, Aleks. Solid lap. That’s more like it.”
“Yes!” I pumped my fist in a slightly uncharacteristic show of emotion. But the relief to be back on my game was big.
I pulled back into the pit lane and hoisted myself out of the car.
“Good job out there,” Ross said, as he swept over to me.
I nodded in reply and tugged off my helmet. The mechanics swarmed the car, making their checks. I watched them like a hawk. Elena’s suspicions still ringing in my ears. I wanted to have faith in my team, but the doubt was there and the only thing I could do about it was be observant.
“Callum’s out,” Mac said in my earpiece. He was still sitting out on the pit wall, waiting for Q3. “So it’s all on you now, lad. You up to securing us P1?”
“As always.”
The mechanics finished their checks and I hopped back into the car, securing my helmet and strapping back in for the final stint of qualifying.
The green light blinked at the end of the pit lane and I rolled out behind two other cars. We were on slicks now—a bold call, with the racing line just starting to dry.
“Grip’s coming, but it’s not perfect yet,” Mac warned in my ear. “Be patient on the first lap, then push. Track should come to you.”
“Copy that.”
The world narrowed to the cockpit, the sound of the engine, the feel of the track beneath me. I twisted through the corners with more confidence than I’d had all season—reading the grip, adjusting on instinct. Sector one came clean. Sector two, Iclipped the apex a little too sharp into Turn Seven and had to correct.
