Now #2
This is my fucking woman. And if I’m as lucky as I feel right now, she will be for the rest of our lives.
Excited about the future ahead, I lean into her, my hands on each side of her spent body, and kiss her shoulder.
“Are you alright, princess?”
“No. I think you broke me.”
I chuckle, lips still against her skin. “Want me to look under the hood and see what I can do?”
Before she can answer, I flip her onto her back and spread her legs wide as I kneel between them.
My intent gaze on her overworked pussy has her lowering a hand to shield herself from it, but I don’t allow her, prying it away.
“Still the prettiest one I’ve ever seen.”
She squints at me. “And you’ve seen so many in your life.”
“Yours is the only one that ever mattered, if it makes any difference.”
She stares into my eyes for a moment, then forces her knees out of my grip to press them together. “Don’t you have to go practice or something?” she mumbles.
“Yes, I do. And I have a visit scheduled in the Paddock Club early this afternoon. I’ll see you there?”
“Haven’t you seen enough of me these past … sixteen hours?”
Once more, I lean into her, bringing my face right over hers. “I can never see enough of you, Evie.”
I mark my words with a deep kiss, then force myself up. “Alright, shower, breakfast, and then team meeting.”
Evie feebly tugs at the covers as she wriggles underneath them. “How do you have so much energy left? How do you even handle the constant jetlag?”
“Took me a while to get used to it. But now I can pretty much sleep anywhere at any time. What I usually do when I arrive in a new place is force myself to stay up until nighttime, then I sleep for ten hours straight, and I’m good.”
“Well, I don’t know how you do it.”
“Good thing you don’t have to. You can just stay in bed all morning. Order breakfast. Relax.”
“Oh, I will.”
I get ready for my long day as she remains in bed, and seeing her buried in the messy covers any time I enter the room brings me a lot more joy than it should.
Once I’m ready to go, I make one last stop to give her a kiss.
She gladly welcomes it and, before I can let myself be tempted to spend the day with her, I get out of the room.
After a good shower and a light breakfast, I head over to the hotel’s gym. Louis is already there with Mark, the team’s trainer and physiotherapist. “Hey there, Marky Mark,” I greet him.
“You’re late.”
“Yeah, but I’m all warmed up already.”
“I know,” he says with a smirk. “I had to walk past your room on my way to breakfast this morning. For a moment there, I almost thought you were done with the random hookups.”
“Who said it was random?”
He clearly thinks I’m jesting, but I don’t say more. I don’t need to justify myself to him or anyone else. “Anyhow, I still need you to warm up that neck. The resistance bands are over there. And then we’ll take care of that pesky left leg.”
“I’ve been drinking my electrolytes. And taking those pills you gave me.”
“Still, we can’t risk another cramp like in Japan, so we’re going to stretch, massage, and hope for the best.”
“Whatever you say, Mark.”
The whole thing takes us about an hour, then a van drives us to the paddock for the engineering briefing.
The steaming pot of coffee calls for me, so I pour myself a mug while they explain the overnight simulator findings.
I might be good at handling jetlag, but I still had a short night. I’d do it all over again, though.
God, she is flexible … And the way she mewls my name whenever I’m withholding her orgasm, taunting her with it …
I don’t want to think of the men she’s been with during our years apart, but I can’t deny that she’s somehow gotten even better.
The way she rode me yesterday, after I got back from my dinner and gently woke her up with my lips all over her perfect body, will be engraved in my mind forever.
Those heavy tits swinging over me like that had me hypnotized, and—
Rosie Pattersen, the team principal, rips me out of my lustful thoughts by calling out my name. “Jackson?”
To my horror, I notice there’s a whole room of engineers and strategists focused on me. And I have a semi growing in my sweatpants. I adjust myself, hoping no one will notice, and ask, “What?”
“Are you okay with the baseline setup?”
“Sorry, can you run it again with me?”
“There shouldn’t be any rain this weekend, so we’re setting you up with the soft compound. Unless you want to run the mediums again?”
“No, let’s try soft. We need accurate degradation data so we can calculate how many times I’ll have to get them changed during the race. If it’s too much, we’ll stick to medium, and I’ll try to make up for it.”
“Alright. We’ve fixed the rear wing issue you mentioned. They sent us the new curved design. It will produce more downforce under load, so you’ll have more rear grip on corner exit.”
“And tighter airflow underneath the car. We’ve tried a similar model in Miami—it works. Anything else?”
“You said you wanted to try upping the ratio of the dynamic rear brake bias control, so we’ve upped it from ten percent to twelve point five. Let us know if that works for you.”
“Perfect.”
Having aircraft engineers work on an open-wheel car has been remarkably efficient.
They know their shit when it comes to aerodynamics and making something as light yet sturdy as possible.
But this year, they really came through with this new idea.
The brake pedal now comes with left and right sensors, and depending on how I press it, one rear wheel brakes slightly harder than the other.
It helps tremendously during turns, and it’s likely the reason why I’ve been dominating the season so far.
“You know what? Let’s make it fifteen,” I suggest.
“Are you sure?” the chief engineer asks.
“Yes. The other teams still haven’t caught up on it, and I feel like we should make the best of it. I don’t look forward to the day Mercedes realizes what we’ve done. They’ll try to get the rules adjusted again, like the whiny little bitches they are.”
“Okay, we’re trying fifteen percent, then.”
They move on to Louis, ensure everything’s good on his end, and we walk out for our track walk.
They’ve resurfaced part of the circuit since last year, and the fresh asphalt is something we’ll have to take into consideration during the final race.
The grip will be better, but it’ll also be inconsistent between sectors.
There are the manhole covers to consider, as well as the slippery painted lines.
Racing a street circuit always comes with its share of advantages and issues.
It’s already eleven by the time I put on my race suit, ready for the first free practice.
They monitor the data while I run a few laps, sharing every detail I can think of the whole time.
The last two seasons, it was raining heavily in Monaco, so I’m glad to see I’ll get to experience the track on dry asphalt again, with the sun shining and everything.
I drink two bottles of electrolyte water as we debrief. When asked if I want anything changed, I say, “We should lower the brake bias control to thirteen. I can see it working at fifteen, but I’ll need more time to get used to it, and I’m not taking unnecessary risks.”
“Good. Anything else?”
“The soft compound gave me good grip, but I’m worried about the time I’ll waste having to change the tires. You’ve seen the state they’re in after a few laps.”
“You want to go medium, then?”
“Let’s keep the softs on for this afternoon’s session. Then I’ll let you nerds crunch the numbers and tell me what’s best.”
“Alright. Louis, your turn.”