“Not terrible,” Sloane agreed. “Though I might’ve pushed a little harder through Turn 4.”
Reese leaned closer, voice dropping. “Julie was in my ear, telling me to play it safe. And what do you always say about listening to my engineer?”
“No idea,” Sloane deadpanned.
Reese shifted, angling her head, hovering just shy of Sloane’s mouth. “That I should pay attention to those trying to keep me safe. I like to pretend it’s because you like how I look in my race suit.”
Sloane’s gaze dipped, then lifted again. “I don’t think you have to pretend.” She pulled back just enough to breathe. “But I can’t kiss you in the driver’s room,” she whispered, standing and putting a sliver of space between them. “As much as I may want to. I don’t like going hours without kissing you.”
“Yes, you can,” Reese said, standing too. “And you definitely should. We’re so good at it.”
“There are people everywhere,” Sloane said, her cheeks warming. “Right on the other side of this door, in fact.”
“This door?” Reese stepped in and pressed Sloane’s back gently against it, the heat between them immediate and unmistakable. She didn’t stop there. She rolled her hips forward in a slow, deliberate grind, slotting one thigh between Sloane’s legs so their bodies aligned perfectly. The friction was instant, electric. Reese’s breasts crushed softly against Sloane’s, her hips pressed firmly, teasing in a way that made Sloane’s breath hitch.
Sloane’s conviction cracked wide open as her center ached.
“They’ll survive,” Reese murmured against her jaw, voice low and rough, still moving in that maddeningly controlled grind.
“They might not,” Sloane managed, gaze dropping to Reese’s perfect mouth—the same one that had given her multiple orgasms. She was especially a fan of that bottom lip. She wanted to suck on it, and that would just be the opening act.
Reese tilted her head toward the door, still pressed flush, still rocking subtly. “I could ask. Actually, I will. Hold on.”
“Don’t you dare,” Sloane said, grabbing Reese by the front of her race suit and holding her there.
Reese’s smile turned slow and dangerous, her hips giving one more lazy press.
“What are you doing to me right now?” Sloane asked, closing her eyes, trying to ignore the throbbing between her legs. “How do you get me so turned on so fast?”
“I could take care of that for you.” Reese watched Sloane carefully as she slipped her hand between Sloane’s legs, palming her through the fabric. Even through the material, the heat radiated. Sloane’s hips jerked forward on instinct, chasing it.
Reese didn’t waste time. She popped the button of Sloane’s pants with a flick of her thumb, tugged the zipper down just enough, and slipped her hand inside—past the waistband of Sloane’s underwear, finding slick, swollen heat waiting for her. Sloane bit her lip hard to stifle the sound that tried to escape.
“Fuck,” Sloane breathed, head tipping back softly against the door, careful not to let it make a sound.
Reese pressed two fingers inside her in one smooth glide, curling them just right, thumb settling over her clit with practiced precision. Sloane’s knees buckled slightly. Reese used her body to pin her upright, thigh still wedged between Sloane’s legs for extra leverage.
“Ride my hand,” Reese whispered against her ear. “I’ve got you.”
Sloane didn’t need convincing. Not in the state she was in. She rocked forward onto Reese’s fingers, then back, setting a desperate, shallow rhythm that rubbed her clit against the heel of Reese’s palm with every grind. They were in luck. The fucking door didn’t rattle. It was her favorite door ever. Sloane’s hands clenched Reese’s race suit, anchoring herself as pleasure coiled tighter and tighter.
Reese kept her pace even, unrelenting, curling deeper with every forward roll of Sloane’s hips, thumb circling in tight, perfect strokes. She watched Sloane’s face the whole time, likely following her cues.
“Look at you. You’re almost there, aren’t you?” Reese murmured, lips brushing Sloane’s earlobe.
Sloane could only nod, a broken little sound slipping out.
“Shhh,” Reese soothed, even as she pressed harder, fingers stroking that spot that made Sloane’s thighs tremble. “They’re right outside. We can’t have everyone knowing what I’m doing to you.”
The words, the risk, the pressure, the way Reese’s fingers filled her, all pushed Sloane over the edge. Her rhythm stuttered, hips jerking forward as she came with a choked, muffled gasp, clenching hard around Reese’s fingers. Reese held her through it, palm grinding slow circles against her oversensitive clit until she whimpered and sagged against the door.
Reese eased her fingers out gently and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to the corner of Sloane’s mouth.
“How did I do?” she asked, quietly.
Sloane opened her eyes, still dazed, cheeks flaming. The grin on Reese’s face said it all. “Look how proud you are of yourself.”
“I mean, I feel like I’ve earned that kiss,” Reese said. “Thoughts?”
