Commitment Collection Read online

  Praise for Karen Botha

  Totally unique story. I went back and reread parts because I could not believe what I was reading.

  LISA - About Naked Truths

  The trials and tribulations that these men go through to find a happy ever after keeps you on the edge of your seat. With plenty of sexy times the set is definitely worth it.

  CARMATH - About Buckle Up, G-Force & Jump Start Boxset

  Besides being fast-paced, humor and romance were additional bonuses.

  AMAZON CUSTOMER - About Naked Lies

  Commitment Series

  Collection of Buckle Up, G-Force and Jump Start

  Karen Botha

  Contents

  Hello from London

  1. Buckle Up

  Prologue Elliott

  Kyle

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  2. G-Force

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  3. Jump Start

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  Other books by Karen Botha

  THANKYOU

  special thanks

  About the Author

  Hello from London

  Hi everyone,

  Good to meet you!

  I’m Karen and I’ve spent hours of my life getting to know Elliott and Kyle. I adore them, to me they’re real people, I understand their quirks and they write their own stories.

  Sound mad?

  Haha, yeah I get it!

  But listen. Elliott and Kyle are there for our entertainment; enjoy them, fight with them and buy into the world in which they live. This is a place where fantasies rule, one which they have created for themselves, and what’s better than being a spy on their wall?

  So, don’t take them too seriously, and if some facts don’t tie in with our lives, what does it matter? These guys have their own universe which is way better than the reality we’re all trying to escape.

  Likewise, this is total fiction, do not for whatever reason think that these hotter than sin guys are based on anyone in motor racing. They are not, they are figment of my imagination, created from pure personal pleasure.

  So, all that’s left is for me to wish you happy reading and I’ll see you on the other side.

  Mwah

  Karen x

  Buckle Up

  Commitment 1

  Prologue Elliott

  “I sure do like the look of this,” she drawls as she strokes the striking red hood of this season’s car. I don’t even know her name, but that’s not important as she bends over to match her scarlet talons to the paintwork, “See honey, it matches.”

  “Hmm.” I’m so not impressed by the color of her nails, but she’s also flashing me the color of her panties as her short denim skirt rises above her cowboy boots. Now, that I can be interested in. “Isn’t that a charm?” I mimic her American accent, not quite rounding my London vowels enough to be correct, but more than enough to elicit a giggle from her plump lips.

  I grind up behind her forcing her to hover closer to the hood of my favorite machine. My hands brush up against the milky white of her thighs. When the
y reach the crease where her legs develop into tight, round buttocks, she shifts her ankles to widen her stance and props herself against one elbow, turning.

  “Oh, now aren’t you the playboy?” She purrs her words as her hair falls, covering one side of her face.

  “I’m not playing around, baby.” I pull the crimson lace of her lingerie until it scissors between the cheeks of her bottom, flaunting their firm plumpness. My other hand tugs the roots of her hair, exposing her throat while simultaneously straining her panties until she gasps from the friction.

  “You are one naughty boy.”

  She’s right, but I ignore the same drivel I’ve heard a thousand times. I’m listening to the rush in my head as my cock sends blood cascading around my body, pumping energy into my recesses that awaken in anticipation of imminent ecstasy.

  I push my index finger under the lacey elastic waistband and trail it south, releasing the tension between her legs. I let out a groan as I drag my finger down her dark crevice, then through her parted legs as the back of my finger collects a layer of her silent wanting.

  I yank the sliver of elastic away from her, then let it snap back into place. It twangs, and she shivers, letting out a sharp yelp at the sting, before her voice changes to a throaty groan as she thrusts her hips forward. She collapses, reaching her hand behind and clutching my solid length through my still intact works uniform.

  “Oh, you want me, baby. I feel you.”

  I jab a finger inside her, then out. I add another while I release myself from my racing fire suit with my free hand. I roughly slide the zipper down, my outfit pooling around my feet.

  I can barely shove my clothing out of the way before I’m plunging into her, grabbing at her hips. I tear into her, forcing her away, then ramming my thick cock into her again with the maximum force for which I’m known.

  I won’t see her again; I don’t need to be an amazing lover. She’s satisfied to be bent over my car while I slam, balls deep into her from behind.

  And I’m satisfied with that.

  It’s a win/ win.

  Kyle

  It’s the first day of my new job as a race mechanic for one of the leading motor teams in the world. I can’t explain how long I’ve waited for this. The company had me jumping through hoops before I finally received the letter inviting me to come on board.

  The pay isn’t as considerable as you’d expect, but the prestige is tremendous. And the lifestyle, well it’s one for a single man, that’s for sure. I’ll be abroad for the best part of eight months out of twelve, traveling around the globe to compete in races that test my skills to the core. The rest of the year, I’ll be running flat out developing next season’s car.

  I’ve entered into this late. It’s the first day of track testing the new car. A disagreement with a previous employee means I’ve been offered a chance to show them what I’m made of. It’s a huge deal, so I’m grabbing this opportunity with both my greedy hands.

  “We’ll practice pit stops.” James, the number one mechanic, says.

  I snatch my tire, remove it from the cover which keeps it up to temperature when we take it off the heating chamber, and run to the front of the garage.

  “Keep the cover on. Elliott will be practicing his pit stop procedure too, so the tires don’t need to be fitted,” James says.

  “Oh, OK.” Fuck, first rookie error and I’m only five minutes in. I start beating myself up. Hopefully the tires will warm back up to temperature again before we need them.

  I don’t have time to be overly hard on myself. The two drivers, Elliott and Brad, make their entrance.

  But only one stands out.

  Elliott Judd.

  He’s dressed the same as Brad, they walk at the same pace, and they’re even roughly the same size. But he’s brighter. The only way I can describe it is that he has color around him like no one I’ve ever met. A star quality. The tabloid hacks are right.

  The second driver pales away against the white walls of the garage while Elliott glows.

  Time slows as I watch every detail of that walk he’s taking to his car. The way his foot lifts with an energetic bounce before he lifts his other heel to take his next step. The way his eyes glisten at nobody in particular, just exhilarated to be in the pits and driving for another season. The way his fingers grip his metallic helmet in one hand as he swings it in time with his stride. He’s every ounce the star I’ve been led to believe.

  He stretches up his fire-retardant hood and tucks in a mop of blonde waves. As he continues his journey to his flame red car, he drags his helmet over his skull, squashing his cheeks until the only part of his face which is visible are a pair of stark blue eyes haloed by long, almost white lashes.

  And they look at me.

  Directly at me.

  I catch my breath.

  Those gorgeous calm eyes smile at me for far longer and far more deeply than is necessary, and I’m locked into a moment of I don’t know what. The ice of their blue is drawing me into a frozen lake of emotions, frozen in the moment, frozen out of everyday society.

  I’m not sure what I’m feeling here.

  I’m drowning in him. I just don’t realize it yet.

  Elliott

  I’m pumped. I’ve been waiting for this day for months. New car, new starting procedures, new race rules. Yes, the simulator is a fabulous asset, but there’s no rehearsal like the real thing. And today is the day.

  I trust my team which helps my confidence in the car’s safety. That means I can discard any nerves and allow my adrenaline to feed into the excitement which will drive me to reestablish myself as the top driver in this sport again. Psychologically, it helps if word gets out among the other drivers that I’m killing it on the track, so I’m psyched for today.

  “Who’s that?” I ask through the team radio in my helmet. “The new guy with the tire?”

  “He’s Kyle Beaumont. He’s a fresh recruit and excellent. Don’t worry,” James replies.

  I’m anything but worried. Taller than me and broad, this guy lifts the wheel like it’s made of a lightweight foam. Jeez, even the guy’s jaw is strong. I linger a moment on his wide set shoulders and his firm neck. They’re adorable. His dark hair is shaved close to his head, so he has no protection from the sun. He scrunches his eyes against the bright light streaming into the garage. I bite my lip and I’m thankful no one can see under my helmet.

  I can’t stop thinking about the guy as we run through pit stop after pit stop. When our eyes locked, the world slowed and another meaningless second shifted into a hot fury of passion. I watch in the mirrors as he slides a quick succession of tires onto empty wheel nuts without an ounce of first day nerves. His work is perfection. He’s perfection.

  “Well done.” James pats me on the back as I hop out. Practice is over and it being the first day back, I’m pumped but know I’ll crash later. I need to do something to keep my spirits high.

  “Thanks. Can I see Kyle in my trailer when they finish up here?”

  “Sure?” James eyes me.

  “Yeah, I’d like to get to know him. My life will rest partly in his hands, after all.” I grin so James knows I’m teasing although the jibe is fact. He slaps me on the back and doesn’t say a word as he walks off, leaving me to my thoughts.