Black Flag (Racing on the Edge) (6 page)

With all of this, I
came to the conclusion that none of it was in my control. I could hover over
him like his mother to the point of driving him insane
...
or
I could support him and let him know
every day how much I loved him.

Though I knew he was
risking his life every time he got inside that car, it was something he loved
to do and was passionate about.

How could I ever ask
him to give that up just because
I
didn’t want to lose him?

To me that was the most
selfish thing I could do.

So instead, I told him
every chance I got that I loved him and supported the career he chose, even if
he was out of his mind for wanting to go two hundred miles per hour into a
corner with concrete walls surrounding him.

2.
       
Sway
Bar – Sway

Sway Bar – A bar is
used to resist or stabilize the rolling force of the car body through the
turns.

The days following Jameson’s
release from the hospital were not that enjoyable. Nothing when Jameson wasn’t
racing was enjoyable. He made sure of that.

After we arrived back
in Mooresville where he lived with his parent’s, I called Charlie, my dad, to
let him know I wouldn’t be home until a few days before the modified nationals.
Though Jameson was now the owner of Grays Harbor Raceway, his hometown track in
Elma Washington, Charlie still kept up with daily operation of it.

We knew that eventually
Charlie wouldn’t be in any shape to run the track but for now, having only
months left after the brain cancer had spread, Charlie needed a distraction.
Keeping Grays Harbor Raceway running was that distraction.

Though I felt I had
obligations to Charlie back home, now Jameson needed me with him too. And he
needed me here with him in Mooresville while he recovered. For one he still
wasn’t able to shower on his own and he refused to let his mother help him with
that task in any way, so that left me.

I was happy to oblige.
Why wouldn’t I be?

Jameson was also one
horny dirty heathen by the time he was released. He counted,
actually
counted
, that it had been five weeks and two days since we last had sex. He
was not
happy about that. If I was being honest, neither was I.

He complained he had a
constant erection. Naturally, this made me happy. Again, why wouldn’t it? 

Aiden kindly kidnapped
Emma and made her stay with him. After she bought Jameson the cougar, he
refused to be in the same room with her.

Emma had officially
pushed him off the deep end. He was now contemplating all the ways he could get
her back and with all his free time now that he was laid up, this was not good
for Emma.

By the time we made it
back to his house the night he was released, it was late, around ten.

His parents were in
Kansas, where Jimi was racing, leaving the house dark. Jameson was muttering
something about cat footprints on his Mustang when I managed to get him inside
the house, painkillers in hand and ready to administer. I wasn’t about to deal
with Jameson for two weeks without drugs.

Two weeks was the time
frame the doctor gave him until he would clear him again for racing. And then
he still had to pass the NASCAR physical. Like I said, I would not be doing
this without painkillers.

Jameson was pissed when
he found out he’d be missing the Bristol race—he loved short tracks. But this
also meant he had another two weeks before Atlanta. He was still pissed but it
made for a longer rest period that he needed.

We were getting settled
in his room, which then brought us to sitting on his bed, then lying on it
...
you know how it works.

He shifted closer, his
eyes focusing on mine and I knew what he wanted.

Kissing me, long and
slow, deep and thorough, I sighed as his tongue slipped warm and wet across
mine. His teeth scraped and gently bit. His hand came up between us to cover
the insanely huge funbags. Even though they were big, they hurt like hell.

I pulled back
reluctantly with a whimper of pain. “I don’t think this is such a good idea,” I
told him. Inside, I thought it was a great idea.

I eyed his chest and
stomach, currently covered by his t-shirt, knowing the bruises that still
lingered from his broken ribs looked like underneath. The idea suddenly seemed
stupid.

“I know.” He admitted
softly, his eyes wide and beseeching. “But
...
I
just have to
...
I can’t explain.
Please?”

How could I resist
this?

I examined his tense,
worried face. “Are you sure?” I asked doubtfully. “Jameson
...
”

“Please, honey.” He
asked again smirking. “And you promised, remember?”

“I don’t want to hurt
you.” I really didn’t, and I knew this was a terrible idea, but the look on his
face
...
the tone in his voice
...
this was about more than the act itself.
He wasn’t asking me for just sex.

“We’ll be careful.” He
breathed pressing a kiss into my hair.

Slowly, I brought my
hand over his hip to cover the bulge in the jeans he was wearing.

His features relaxed
infinitesimally as he rubbed my leg, letting his fingers trailed up the inside
of my thigh. He reached my waist and his fingers fumbled with the button on my
jeans.

“Let me,” I told him. I
stood and bent to push my pants down—his eyes followed my every movement. “You
just lay there and let me handle this.”

“Handle away,” he
waggled his eyebrows, grinning. Placing his one good hand behind his head, he
smirked, knowing I could handle well.

I knelt beside him and
pulled on his jeans, pulling them from his hips and down his long legs. He
groaned, and I lifted my attention to his face. He had gone still and intense,
all teasing gone as he watched me rub my palms up his thighs and over his boxer
briefs, my fingers wrapping firmly around his camshaft.

He groaned once again,
and his eyes drifted shut as my fingers dipped inside to find the hard, hot,
bare skin of his camshaft.

Hot
damn.

I shifted to kneel
between his legs, pulling on his boxers until he was finally exposed for me
from the waist down.

There was no better
sight in the entire world then my dirty talking heathen, naked, ready for
boring.

Taking him once again
in my hand, his hips twitched at the reciprocating motions. “Oh god
...
feels so good,” he moaned loudly.
“Sway.”

I leaned forward, his
eyes blinked open, focusing on me. I didn’t look away as I slowly opened and
stuck my tongue out, drifting forward until I could smell the tangy, soapy,
musky scent of Jameson. I took the camshaft between my lips, swirling my tongue
around.

“
Fuuuccckkkk
,”
he breathed, raising his knees so his feet rested flat on the mattress, pushing
up into my mouth.

I licked, sucked,
swirled, and bobbed until his hand fumbled at his side and tugged on my hair.

“Sway,” he moaned in a
throaty sexy voice, twitching slightly. “In you
...
now
...
please. I
need
to be in you.”

Sitting up on his bed,
I pulled my shirt over my head tossing it on the floor. I was about to leave my
bra on with how sore the funbags were but when I glanced down at him, I could
tell by the look on his face he was disappointed they weren’t coming out to
play, so off came the bra.

He watched intently as I
leaned forward, running my hand along his right arm, being careful to avoid his
left side.

Jameson reached forward
and touched the enormous funbags with his fingertips. Inching forward I
carefully threw one leg over his hips. Settling my knees on either side of him,
I sat up, trying not to put pressure on his ribs, chest, left arm, or his
collarbone. He, literally, was a fucking mess.

I looked over him once
more. His arm was in a cast, and that arm was in a sling from the broken
collarbone. He may have been a complete fucking mess but he was also incredibly
hot with his hair all messy, his eyes pleading, body straining. This was going
to be difficult.

“Are you sure?” I
whispered one last time before I positioned for align boring. “You’re really
banged up.”

“Yes,” he hissed
between his teeth, as his right hand rubbed my thigh. Attempting to get closer,
his upper body pressed toward me but winced in pain. “Jesus, Sway. Please
...
I begging you, just please
fuck me
.”

How could any woman in
their right mind resist that?

Slowly lowering my
hips, Jameson arched his back, unable to control the pleasure, gasping and
shaking. I froze and his hand tugged at my upper thigh.

“No, no, don’t stop.
Please
...
it’s
okay.” He gritted, his
head thrown back, muscles and tendons in his neck tensed and straining. “
Don’t stop
...
Keep
going. Fuck,
please
keep going.”

His grunts, groans and
downright cries of pleasure convinced me I wasn’t doing irreparable harm by
indulging his need as he came hard with a forlorn, guttural sob, shuddering and
shaking beneath me.

Hot
damn.

“I’m sorry,” he
whispered. I pressed a soft chaste kiss to his lips.

I shook my head and
kissed him again. He must not have realized how incredibly fucking hot it was
to watch him cry out like that as I pushed him to an orgasm that shook his
body.

“No, don’t worry.” I
gasped. “That was all for you.
Incredibly hot
...
but all for you.
Better?”

He nodded slowly,
gazing into my eyes before sighing and carefully lifting his arm to snuggle me
closer to his side. “I couldn’t be better.”

Sway Bar – Jameson

“What kind of case do
we even have against him besides what NASCAR will fine him?” My dad asked
Phillip, our attorney.

“Not much of one but
we’ll see.” Phillip admitted. “I need to get with one my associates and see
what kind of case we can bring against him. I filed a restraining and we’re
going for reckless endangerment.” I took in a deep breath as Phillip continued
his speech. “The problem we run into is that, in the past, courts have
determined when you play a sport or get behind the wheel of a race car, you
assume a certain risks, inherent to the sport. There are greater limits on the
liability of whoever caused the injury than under the normal circumstances. For
example, say a driver pissed you off on the freeway. You flip them off and
nudge the back of their car, letting them know you’re pissed. They could
potentially sue you and probably win. But if you were to do that on the race
track, you’re protected.”

“There’s a big
difference between
nudging
and what Darrin did.” My dad roughly pointed
out. His hard blue eyes furrowed in frustration.

“Whether or not Darrin
will be held liable for injuring Jameson will depend on the courts and what
they decide is fitting with the intentional goal of injury and whether or not
the actions were inherent to the sport.” Phillip shook his head. “Darrin is
claiming he wanted to make sure his shifter wasn’t broken and didn’t know you were
still on the track.”

Jimi stood, his chair
crashing against the wall.

I just sat there,
slouching in the black leather chair, my head bent forward. This was disgusting
to hear. How someone could intentionally try to kill you and get away with it
all because they were governed under the rules of the sport?

When you’re a
professional athlete you assume there are risks involved so bringing a lawsuit
against another driver is usually never done and winning one was challenging.

Phillip stood, running
his long fingers through his kept black hair once before looking over toward
me. “Listen Jameson, I know you want to see Darrin get what he deserves. I do
too. I’ve known you since you were two years old and to see that accident on
TV, not knowing if you were okay,” He choked, his brow pulled together. “Let’s
just say I was calling every favor in law I had to get Darrin locked up. But he
has rights and sometimes those rights protect him regardless of what he’s done.
NASCAR has doubled his fine after further investigation from $50,000 to
$100,000 and the suspension is still holding. He would be allowed to compete in
the Winston Cup series again next year but
will be
on probation for the
entire season.”

“What about other
divisions? Jameson sometimes steps into those cars from time to time for
Billings Racing. Is Darrin suspended in those as well?” Kyle asked leaning
forward.