Chapter 27
Three hours from now, Cam would be starting the Las Vegas Grand Prix from eighth on the grid.
You’re the best mistake I’ve ever made. Have a good life, darling.
Cam stalked through the paddock with long, impatient strides, his eyes scanning the crowds automatically, just like he’d done yesterday after qualifying. Hospitality entrances. Media areas. VIP sections.
I’m done. We’re done.
“Cam!” A fan had called his name.
Cam barely registered it. Another voice followed, then another. People wanted photos, autographs, a wave. Normally he would have obliged. Normally he was good with fans. But he couldn’t focus on any of them.
He couldn’t see him anywhere. Had Scott already left?
The mere thought sent an immediate spike of anxiety through him, his hands twitching at his sides restlessly.
For fuck’s sake.
For the past two days, every thought had circled back to Scott, and every emotion he felt had curdled into frustration: frustration with Scott, with the circumstances, with the PR teams, with the championship standings, with the entire fucking world.
But most of all, with himself. He was fucking losing it. Daniel and the engineers were being diplomatic about his disastrous qualifying effort. They blamed setup issues, traffic, track evolution, tires not being the right temperatures. All of that could be true.
None of those were the actual reason.
The actual reason was that Cam had spent all qualifying thinking about a man who had blocked his number.
About a man who’d said he was done. Done with Cam—with what they had.
During qualifying all he’d wanted was to find Scotty and prove that what he’d said was bullshit, that Scotty still wanted him, cared for him—that he was still his. His. His his his.
Fucking hell.
He’d never felt like this with anyone. The mere possibility of Scott leaving, of him cutting him out of his life for good and moving on—it made his hands shake and his heart beat so fast he almost thought he was on the verge of a heart attack.
It made him want to punch something. It made him want to find Scotty and bruise him all over with his marks, as if he were a wild animal marking his territory.
Christ, this was insane. More than a little disturbing.
He really was losing his fucking mind. Or maybe he’d already lost it.
Otherwise he wouldn’t have jerked off another man a few feet away from the paparazzi snooping around the paddock.
He was beyond lucky that no one had seen them yesterday.
He definitely shouldn’t tempt luck again.
Except his feet were still moving, his eyes searching for wavy dark hair, bright eyes and a pretty, mobile mouth.
He finally found Scott in Mercedes’s hospitality.
And he wasn’t alone.
Nico Laurent was there too. His head was bent toward Scott’s, his arm casually slung around the back of Scott’s seat. It looked… proprietary. Intimate.
Cam was stalking forward before he even made a conscious decision.
Laurent was the one who noticed him first. He frowned and said something to Scott.
Visibly tensing, Scott lifted his eyes. His normally animated face went completely expressionless.
Cam wanted to wipe that look off his face.
Scotty was supposed to be always smiling or laughing.
He wasn’t supposed to have that awfully blank look on his face—not when he was looking at Cam.
It was just wrong. Cam hated it, hated that he was the one who’d put that blank look there.
But not as much as he hated Laurent’s arm around Scott.
The urge to wrench it out of the guy’s shoulder socket was becoming irresistible, to his growing alarm.
He wasn’t a violent man. But he itched for violence right now.
“Hey,” Laurent said, stretching his hand out for a handshake. “Nico Laurent. I don’t think we’ve properly met yet.”
Cam shook the guy’s hand. From the way Laurent winced, he might have squeezed it too hard.
Not feeling particularly sorry, Cam retrieved his hand and looked back at Scott. “Can I talk to you for a minute? Alone.”
Looking at him somewhat warily, Scott bit his bottom lip.
Cam wanted to lean down and bite it himself. The desire was so strong it left him breathless. He almost did it—despite dozens of people around, despite the cameras trained on them. Fuck, he really was losing it.
Scott nodded stiffly and got to his feet. “Sure,” he said. “Lead the way.”
Cam turned and strode away. He wasn’t entirely sure where they were going. He only knew that if they stayed here, he was going to do something catastrophically stupid in front of half the paddock.
He led Scott through a maze of corridors and service hallways before pushing open the door to a quiet restroom tucked away from the main crowds.
It was empty.
The door swung shut behind them.
Silence.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Scott stopped by the sinks, his hands braced against the counter, while Cam remained near the door. The distance between them couldn’t have been more than a few meters, but it felt insurmountable.
Cam took a step forward.
“Stay where you are,” Scott said, licking his lips.
“Why?”
Scott shook his head, his eyes wide. “You made your choice. I made mine. Don’t be a dickhead now.”
“I didn’t make any fucking choice,” Cam growled, covering the distance between them in a few long strides. “I want you.” He grabbed Scott’s face and pressed their foreheads together, felt Scott draw a shaky breath in, their lips an inch apart. “You can’t quit me. I won’t let you.”
“You’re being a massive dick,” Scott whispered hoarsely.
Cam’s lips twisted. “I know, Scotty,” he murmured, nuzzling his cheek and cradling his face.
“But I’m ready to be a bigger dick, as long as you stay.
” He brushed their lips together gently, his self-control hanging by a thread.
He wanted to kiss him hard, to devour him, to swallow him whole, but he forced himself to be gentle—to let Scott make the choice.
Scott remained unresponsive for a few seconds before a soft whimper escaped him, and then he was kissing Cam back with as much desperation as Cam felt. But just as quickly, he pulled away, breathing hard. “No, we can’t.” He shook his head. “This is stupid. It’ll lead nowhere—”
Oh, fuck it. He was done being gentle and nice.
Cam shoved him around, bending Scott over the sink and yanking his pants and briefs down.
“What—”
Kneeling behind him, Cam buried his face between his cheeks and pressed his tongue against his hole.
Scott moaned, flinching. “Are you crazy—”
“Spread your cheeks for me,” Cam ordered, and after a long, tense moment, Scott obeyed, reaching back to spread his round cheeks with shaking hands.
Fuck, it was the hottest thing Cam had ever seen: seeing this tall, handsome man spread his plump, muscular cheeks for him like a slut.
Cam buried his face against that ass again and started licking Scott’s hole, feeling ravenous for it, feeling like he’d been starved.
Scott was whining and gasping non-stop now, pushing back onto his tongue.
“This is madness—stop—anyone could enter—oh god, there—”
His moans were the biggest fucking turn-on.
Cam ate him out relentlessly for minutes, greedy for every one of Scott’s moans, but his own cock was so hard, his balls heavy, and he couldn’t bear it anymore.
He wanted to be inside Scotty. Getting to his feet, Cam yanked his pants open and pulled his erection out.
Lube. Where was that fucking lube? He finally found the packet of lube in his pocket and tore it open before pouring it liberally onto his aching cock. “Touch your tits for me.”
Red in the face, Scott mumbled something in protest but started stroking his pecs obediently over his thin shirt, his hard nipples obvious. Fuck, Cam wanted to suck on them. Next time.
He slicked his aching cock and then slowly pushed it into Scotty’s hole, watching greedily in the mirror as Scott’s expression went slack and blissed-out.
“You’re not done with me,” Cam ground out as he bottomed out. “Or you wouldn’t be taking my cock bare in a public restroom.”
Scott shook his head, but he looked drunk already. Drunk on his cock.
Sinking his teeth into Scott’s neck, Cam set a hard, punishing rhythm, watching hungrily as Scott’s hard, big cock drooled and bounced against his designer shirt on every thrust. So fucking hot.
Scott’s face was the biggest turn-on, though: his handsome features flushed, lips bitten red and parted as he whined on every thrust. He was so loud Cam was forced to cover his mouth.
He didn’t look away from Scott’s eyes as he increased the rhythm, pounding into him without restraint.
So he was still watching when Scott came on his cock, moaning against Cam’s hand, his hole squeezing Cam’s cock so tightly Cam’s orgasm ripped out of him with brutal intensity.
He spilled inside Scott, groaning as pleasure shook his body.
Pleasure but not relief. He was still worked up. He still wanted. He didn’t want to pull out of him, his cock still half hard.
So he didn’t.
He started thrusting again.
“Oh my god, seriously?” Scott half-moaned, half-laughed, staring at him in the mirror with wide, stunned eyes.
“Yes,” Cam said, his grip on Scott’s hips tightening. “Want you again.”
“You have a race—ah—in a few hours.”
Cam couldn’t care less. The championship, the title fight, the race—it all seemed distant, insignificant right now. He had everything he wanted right here.
“I want you more,” he said, meeting Scott’s eyes in the mirror.
Scott’s mouth opened and closed soundlessly. He looked… endearingly lost. God, Cam wanted to lock him up somewhere, so no one else could see him like this. Only him.
Only him.