Grave (Dark Kings #2) - Shantel Tessier Page 0,4

bare ass cheeks. She moans. Her hips begin to grind against my hard cock.

Fuck! I don’t have time for this. “Lucy, I need to go,” I say but make no move to push her off or stop her in any way. My cock is fucking hard, and she is willing. What kind of motherfucker would turn pussy down? Not me.

“Just let me suck it real quick.” She crawls off me and stands in her high heels. I peel my sweaty back off the already hot hood of my Dodge Demon.

I look over her as she stands before me panting. Her bleach blond hair is a fucking mess. Her roots have grown out longer than they should. She wears a pair of Daisy Dukes that barely cover her fucking pussy, and she has the top of them undone and rolled down once. Her white T-shirt has a black skull on it with a matching black crown. It sits uneven, tilting to the right, and blood runs down it, coating the skull. She has the shirt tied in a knot underneath her large tits with no bra. Her navel has a yellow and red sun tattooed around it with a string of diamonds that hangs down from the piercing. She’s my number one cheerleader. My go-to fuck. The bitch can suck start a fucking Harley.

Before I can speak, she goes to my jeans. I raise my hands while her fingers fumble with my black studded belt. Once she gets it undone, she rips the buttons open and shoves my pants to my ankles along with my boxers. My hard dick springs to action, staring up at her.

“Bow to your king, my lady,” I say with a British accent.

Chicks fucking dig that shit. Well, never met one who hasn’t.

She laughs and bends at the waist, leaning over to take my dick into her mouth without wasting another second. I should force her to her knees, but we’re standing in an abandoned gravel parking lot. And I’m not a total fucking dick.

I place my hands behind my head and link my fingers together. Throwing my head back, I look up at the dark sky and groan as she swallows my fucking dick like I’m throwing hundreds at her.

My tongue darts out and runs over my lip ring. “Fuck! Yeah, baby ...”

“Racers, take the stage for the last qualifying round of the night.” Colt Tinsley’s voice rings out through his megaphone from behind us.

Fuck! I shove her head away. She loses her balance and falls to her hands and knees in the gravel. “Grave...” She growls my nickname, her brown eyes glaring up at me.

“Sorry, babe.” I’m hopping on both feet, trying to pull my boxers and jeans up as I round the car and almost trip myself when my shoes slip on the loose gravel. I fall into my Challenger, not even bothering to zip or button my pants before I start it up.

Lucy jumps to her feet, dusting her hands and knees off before stepping back when I rev the engine, shift it into gear, and take off, throwing gravel and dust up in my wake.

I speed over the gravel and onto the asphalt. I pass cars that just exited the once private airport strip.

Making my way up to the front line, I bring my car to a stop and look to my left to see a guy I’ve known for years. Jimmy Trust sits next to me in his new yellow fucking Ferrari. I smirk.

“Two nights in a row?” he asks. Cross and I were here last night before we hit Glass. “Don’t you ever give her a rest?”

“Whores were made to be ridden.” I rub the black dash. “Aren’t you, baby?”

I’ve had the Dodge Challenger SRT Demon for two years now. She’s the fastest production car out on the streets. Only thirty-three hundred were made. Three thousand of those were sold in the US. The other three hundred went to Canada. I had a friend who worked at a Dodge dealership and paid cash for her months in advance to make sure I was guaranteed one. She only comes out when I race her. Other than that, she is kept in the garage.

He snorts. “Just gonna warn ya, Grave. You’re not ready.”

A woman with big fake tits, fake tan, and fake eyelashes walks out onto the tarmac and stands. Our headlights illuminate her and the runway before us. People are lined up on both sides as far as you can see.

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