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In the Driver's Seat

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Ariadne was unsurprised that the race track where Yusuf had his stunt driving lessons was out in the desert; nearly everything in Vegas that wasn't a casino was out on the sun-baked sand. The blowing dust made her glad of the jumpsuit they'd given her to change into. When she emerged from the locker room Yusuf was already out on the track, in his jumpsuit and sunglasses, laughing with the other drivers. She shuddered a little because he looked hot—really hot—and while she'd already known that this little excursion was going to turn her knees into jelly, she didn't think it would start before she even got into the car.

He introduced her to his driving pals, and sure there was a little bit of showing-off-the-girlfriend happening but it was so mild she couldn't begrudge him. Besides, he'd been alone for a while before Ariadne came to Vegas. Then they got into the car, and the instructor talked about the course. Ariadne was firmly strapped into a front seat that was more like an open cage, reinforcing bars all around her. She and Yusuf put on their helmets, made sure the radios in them worked, and then they were off onto the course.

The first part was a track that let Yusuf drive very fast, so fast that Ariadne's heart came up into her throat. Once she got her breath, though, she was laughing and shouting every time they went around one of the hairpin turns. The scenery went by so quickly that she found it easier to keep her eyes on Yusuf, not to mention that it helped her to not get nervous anticipating what was next. His gloved hands moved the steering wheel and gearshift with smooth assurance, not unlike his command of the tools of his kitchen, and she supposed she shouldn't be surprised by this. Watching him cook had always turned her on, but that was a low-level hum of daily life, of I-like-to-fuck-my-boyfriend normalcy. The driving was new, and so the feeling a little sharper, unfamiliar, exciting.

The last part was off the track; Yusuf took a sudden turn into the middle, and they were suddenly zooming up a ramp, flying through the air. Ariadne felt her legs and arms fly up into the air before the car landed, solidly. Yusuf drove a bit further before coming to a stop and pulling off his helmet. He jumped out and then helped her out

"Well," Yusuf asked, "what did you think?"

She grinned brightly. "You can't tell?" she asked, and she felt out of breath, as though she'd been running.

"Perhaps I can," he said, and ran a gloved thumb along her cheek.

His instructor came along then, and the other drivers, congratulating him on his personal second-best time, giving him small tips for improvement. But all Ariadne could think of was the wetness between her legs, the easy confidence in Yusuf's eyes. She was jittery and distracted; this couldn't wait until they got home.

"What happens now?" she asked him, as the next driver went to get ready.

He shrugged. "We watch the others," Yusuf said.

"Can we—is there someplace we can be alone?" she asked. "Just for a few minutes?"

Yusuf raised his eyebrows, but he couldn't actually have been surprised. He'd seen her like this before, so turned on that she almost couldn't stand it, because he'd gotten her there. And she knew he was close to that, anyway, because usually when he came home from the track he ended up fucking her fast and rough up against some hard surface within ten minutes of getting home.

"There's a private changing room—"

"Take me to it," she said.

Once inside she locked the door and put their helmets on the floor.

"Don't you think they'll know?" he asked.

"Do you really care if they know that you got your hot girlfriend so turned on by your amazing driving prowess that she needed to get down on her knees and suck you off?" she asked.

"If you put it that way," he said, and ran a hand through her hair.

Ariadne smiled at him, then knelt before him, running her hands down his body. She undid his fly and pulled out his cock, hard as anything and flushed a deeper, redder brown. "God, I love your cock," she said, licking the small drop of precome from the head before rubbing her cheeks against the shaft. "It's so pretty, Yusuf. Feels so good."

"Good where?" he asked.

"I love feeling you hard in your pants when we're making out," she said, and now she was hitting herself on the face, lightly, with his cock, because she knew he liked that, too; liked how it looked. "I love it in my hands, in my mouth, in my pussy." She paused. "In my ass, the other night."

"Yeah? You liked that?"

She shuddered, thinking of how big he'd been inside her, even after all the rimming and the lube and the fingers, how wanton she'd felt on her knees with her ass in the air, begging for it. "Yeah," she said. "We should do it again. But not now. Now I want to—" and she took the head of his cock in her mouth.

"Fuck," he said, and one big hand was in her hair again, loosening her ponytail so the strands fell like a curtain on either side of her face.

She loved how the head of his cock felt in her mouth, loved how it fit just right against her soft palate, but keeping it there would only serve her oral fixation. So she moved slowly down the length of it, one hand wrapped around whatever she couldn't quite reach, going down and back, down and back, a little further each time.

He was breathing deeply, his hand just loosely in her hair, knowing that letting her take her time with this would be worth it in the end.

Once she'd taken all she could, she pulled back and licked broad stripes all up and down the shaft. Then she took his cock back into her mouth, into her throat really, swallowing against it when the head was at the back of her throat, her tongue moving constantly against the vein on the underside. Yusuf was leaning back against the wall, needing the support, and she smiled to herself because that was precisely where she wanted him.

"So fucking good," he said, breathless. "Wish everyone could see how gorgeous you are with your mouth stretched open around my cock. Would you like that?"

She pulled off him and looked up, taking a breath and swallowing before she spoke. "I wish I could go out there with your come all over my face," she said. "Dripping off my chin."

His eyes widened and he laughed breathily, surprised. "Well, you'd better get your mouth back on me," he said, "or I will come all over your face."

She did as she was told—or really, as she wanted to do, because what she really wanted was to swallow him down, taste his come on her tongue. She was working her mouth hard to get him off now, using cheeks and tongue and lips as well as her hands. The rocking motion also made the jumpsuit brush along her pussy in the loveliest way, so she tightened her thighs and her Kegel muscles. She wanted to get off when he did.

Which wouldn't be long, apparently. "Oh god, gonna come soon," Yusuf said. "If you don't want come in your mouth—"

But she did, so she sucked all the harder, pulling back just a little so the come would land on her tongue and not down her throat, and moments later he was coming and she was, too. His come was bitter on her tongue and her panties were wet when she sat back, lapping at his cock to make sure he was clean and then tucking him away.

"Fucking come here," he said, pulling her up into his arms. She wrapped her legs around his waist, let him kiss her and taste his come. "What about you?"

"I'm fine," she said. "Already came."'

"Wanna feel it, though," he said, insistent.

One hand unzipped her fly and his blunt fingers pushed into her wetness, thumb pushing against her exposed clit, and she couldn't help but push back.

"I'll give you another one, then," he said, smiling.

It was an easy thing for him to do, a matter of moments before she came again, feeling even slicker. He pulled out his hand and licked her off his fingers, and then they kissed again. Ariadne tingled all over, thinking about how their come was mixing together in their mouths.

"Fuck all of them," Yusuf said. "I'm taking you home and fucking you properly."

"You'd better," she said, and kissed him again.