Commitment Collection Read online

  I’m lying in bed, struggling to focus on a big day of testing tomorrow, and I see him every time I close my fucking eyes.

  I replay the locking of our gaze. The chemistry between us is insane. He may play the straight card, but he felt it too. I could see where his eyes were focused, and it wasn’t at Jessie’s mouth round my shaft. They were fixated on me. He grew hard for me. Rubbing himself for me.

  I need to have him.

  I pull myself under the covers in my trailer, peel back my foreskin and think of him as the warm tingle seeps into my balls. His image is burned behind my retinas, and the feel of him close makes my heart flutter against the shadows.

  I remember I can text him. His number is automatically uploaded into my phone.

  Without a second’s hesitation about potential repercussions, I scroll through my contacts, and there he is, ‘Kyle Beaumont.’

  My fingers type what is racing round my thoughts: ‘That was hot.’

  I wait, tapping my finger on my screen while my right hand works my shaft, slow and precise, waiting for his response. A few minutes pass before my phone burrs.

  Kyle: ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb you.’

  ‘I liked you disturbing me. I wish it was you I came inside.’ I smear my viscous liquid around my bulbous head, swiping under its rim, shivers stinging my balls in readiness of Kyle’s response. I cup them, stroke their sensitive underside as I continue to work myself slowly with my other hand.

  Kyle: ‘But I’m straight. It won’t ever happen.’

  ‘You didn’t look straight rubbing your cock for me.’ There’s a pause. I caught him, and he knows it.

  Kyle: ‘I needed to pee. You were by the toilet.’

  ‘You’d have struggled to go with that hard on.’

  Kyle: ‘Go to sleep. Tomorrow is huge for me. I can’t fuck this up.’

  ‘Nice choice of words. I’ll ignore the innuendo.’

  Kyle: ‘Funny. Go away. I’m sleeping.’

  ‘Sleep tight.’

  I wait for him to text me again, even just to say night, but it doesn’t come.

  Instead I yank my foreskin back and forth, frustration boiling over into the rough treatment of my pleasure center. I imagine Kyle straddled over my naked body, lowering onto me. I grip myself tighter to simulate the snugness of his first time and rub faster, harder, almost pulling my tip off.

  Slipping my spare hand under my buttock, I spread my cheeks apart and circle my finger.

  That does it. Finally, a release. Peace.

  And I may sleep.

  Kyle

  I can’t get myself off. The phone keeps interrupting me and I don’t know how I feel about that.

  Actually, I do.

  I’m excited. He went to the trouble of finding my number, and he’s wanting phone sex. My cock has a life of its own, springing to attention at the mere thought of Elliott, let alone his insinuations.

  And that’s before I start with the slow motion replays my mind has on a loop of him at the toilet block. His head arcing back and the yearning in his brilliant blue eyes. His yearning for me. I replay him greeting me wearing only his towel, and how he turned my insides into a heady mix of electricity and jelly when he left the door open to dress.

  Plus, it seems like he rarely comes out of his RV to mix socially with the team. But he ventured out tonight. And he chose to sit with me.

  But then my brain kicks in, ‘Am I just flattered, or is something else at play here?’ I’ve never once jerked off to a guy. Not even as a teenager. How can this all change in less than a day?

  Elliott has charisma; there’s no doubt about that. I’ve never been around a star before. That’s all it is. One hot episode by a group of mobile toilets doesn’t suddenly mean I’m interested in guys. And even if it does, he’s a self-confessed player. I’m not about to change the whole course of my life for someone who has told me a few hours before that his spice of life is variety.

  That’s not where I wanted to land up when I left the gang to go jerk off in the trailer. I wanted to be free from the energy floating around my groin. To prevent it rushing at inconvenient moments through my balls and up every nerve of my back, threatening to embarrass me in my new place of work and home.

  ‘Fucking hell, just come won’t you.’ I spit at my cock as I tug the back of my hand round toward me and up, taking in my shaft and head in one seamless movement.

  I close my eyes, begging for release. I’m panting, and my skin is covered with a sticky film of salty sweat. As my eyelids drop, my mind returns to that image again. Elliott, pants undone, distended dick ramming down a girl’s throat and his gaze connected to mine.

  Finally!

  My balls rise and crumple under my erection, pushing an all-consuming electric current through my penis, and out over my stomach. I slow my breathing, calming my palpitations as I snatch a ball of Kleenex. I will not change everything about who I am on the basis of one day in the presence of a charismatic superstar.

  Elliott

  I’m first into the next morning’s briefing. Normally I’d arrive right at the last minute. Not because I’m a diva though, much as the press would make out I am, but because I’m committed to maintaining my position at the top of my game which does not involve turning up last to meetings because I’m lazing around like a rock star. No, I’m usually working through figures so I have something to contribute.

  But today I went straight to the temporary board room hoping that Kyle would arrive early, fresh for starting his second day on the job with all the enthusiasm I’d like him to place in me.

  He only arrives later though, once half the team are already seated, and it’s standing room only. I can barely see him and yet it’s like he’s the only person in the room because of the magnetism between us. A clear thread keeps pulling our gaze toward each other before we shift it away and pretend to concentrate on what we’re being told.

  I have a strong word with myself. It’s going to screw with my season if I can’t get a handle on my emotions. They’re running scarily out of control and this is not the way to win the season again.

  When the briefing ends, I hang around until Kyle leaves and time my exit to coincide. I match him step for step in the corridor. People pass by as he turns toward me, now behind everyone else. He has a few inches on me and his chin is only level with my nose. I tilt my face upwards to meet him.

  “Leave me alone Elliott. I have a job to do. I can’t be screwing around with it. I’ve worked too hard to mess this up with something which isn’t real.” Kyle’s face is fury.

  But, I won’t be pushed away. I shove my hand against his chest and he backs up against the wall. Pressing one palm to either side of Kyle’s head I lean in until I’m hovering over his wide, smooth lips.

  “And I don’t? I’ve no clue what they just talked about in that meeting because I can’t concentrate on anything other than you. You’re going to mess up my championship before it starts at this rate.” I don’t move back relishing in the sexual tension vibrating between us.

  “Don’t blame me! You’re the one doing the chasing.”

  “You can feel it too.” I slam my body into his hardness, “Now, I know you can.”

  “I’m straight, Elliott.”

  “I don’t care what you tell yourself, that...” I jam against him again, “is not you being straight.”

  I move my hand from the side of his face and cradle the back of his neck, digging my fingers into his flesh and pulling his lips onto mine. He doesn’t flinch, but neither does he move for an entire second and trust me, that’s an eternity. But then, his mouth opens and allows my tongue to slide inside. And he kisses me back.

  Kyle

  His forehead is almost touching mine, our mouths millimeters from meeting. I want to pull away before I lose myself, but whatever my mind is saying my body is doing its own thing. My breath is fast and light, my head swimming with unspoken possibilities.

  And yet I’m still unprepared. When his arrogant mouth covers my lips, it’s firm, not an innocent tease, but with his firm lips tight and unwavering, demanding my response. He’s shaved, but still his chin bristles against mine. And he’s taller than a woman. I don’t have to stoop, and his hair, although long for a man, doesn’t tangle in my mouth.

  He presses his seductive tongue into the seam of my lips and as they meet, an almighty crescendo cascades down from my head as the pent up tension of the last twenty-four hours releases into the pit of my stomach. It somersaults, my emotions bouncing, my breath catching, mingling with his.

  My senses tingle and I don’t even realize I’ve placed my hands on his hips. His muscles ripple as he presses deeper against my body, matching my form on every level. Drunk with desire, my only need is to touch his taut muscles under the formality of his uniform so my hands creep around his back, pulling him into me. The pressure of his heart beats into my own chest. God, he’s rock solid. Everywhere.

  In that moment, his kiss obliterates my every thought. I tilt my head with all mental clarity lost in this all too real present. My concerns about my new job magically evaporate.

  In a second I’ve forced my palms up to his athletic chest. I splay my fingers against his solid pecs before allowing my palms to explore his shape over his shirt.

  But, no. This can’t be.

  I force my arms to shove him back. He stumbles before meeting my eyes, his hooded passion now vanished, replaced with what? Sadness?

  “I was getting into that.”

  “Well don’t. I’ve told you. I’m not gay.”

  “Bullshit. You were into that just as much as I was. You can’t deny it. I know what I felt, and this isn’t about being gay, you could easily be bi. But, what does a label matter anyway? You fucking felt that, Kyle.” br />
  I pull away nevertheless, licking my swollen lips clean of our desire. I’m shaking, and my legs are weak but I’m resolute. I lift my face to his as crimson rises up my neck. I pray it doesn’t meet my cheeks.

  I swallow. “I can’t do this,” I mutter, praying he doesn’t hear the crack in my voice.

  “Can’t or won’t?”

  I don’t turn, and I don’t reply, stalking off down the corridor, my heart as dark as lead.

  Elliott

  The rest of my day is hell. My kiss with Kyle was sensational, but it came to way too much of an abrupt end for my liking. If I want his lips to enclose mine again, for our tongues to intertwine and our hands to do a little more exploring, then he must first come to terms with having kissed me back. It’s a fine line though, like knowing the exact right amount of gas to pedal through when the lights extinguish on the starting grid. Too much and you’ll spin out of control and too little, well, you’re just left fighting in the pack. I can't allow him enough time to convince himself he’s exclusively straight, that is for certain, but I do need to make sure I don’t spin off.

  Providing him space doesn’t mean I can't still fantasize about those glistening lips on mine, though. Full of passion and unexplored wanting, I spend the remainder of my day in a fog. It hinders my concentration when I struggle to fine tune my performance in this season’s new beast.

  “Try again Elliott. Plant it on the mark.” Greg is referring to my shocking lack of ability to deposit my car on the correct line for my pit stop.

  “Sorry, guys, not sure what’s wrong with me.” I obviously know what the issue is. It’s Kyle Beaumont.

  “You normally ace this. You’re just rusty with the car being bigger this season. Don’t worry,” Greg talks me down inside my helmet.

  I put out another lap and slow down to hit the pit lane, pulling up precisely where I should be.

  “Perfect!” Greg shouts as I scrabble to adjust the functions on my steering wheel ready to pull out within two seconds. I’m not used to this brain freeze. It’s unsettling, but the worst part is that Kyle is around to witness my shoddy work, and it’s a bit bloody embarrassing to be screwing up. I’m behaving like an amateur.

  I push the thought to one side as we move onto calibrating the vehicle’s set-up. His crew works in silence, mimicking the speed and pressure of race day, while optimizing our learnings from the limited time the racing regs allow us to be on track.

  I’d normally disappear upstairs to meet with my engineers during this lull, but instead I sit in a corner and go over my drive statistics.

  This car is a heady mix of performance, and unadulterated danger. Keeping out of the barriers has been an achievement. Studying the handling on different tracks around the world on simulators is one thing but putting that into practice in a live situation is always hair-raising the first few times out. You learn quickly how far to push this beast on every bend, on every straight, through every dip in the track. Otherwise you’ll be bringing up the rear during an actual race.

  Number crunching doesn’t stop me from admiring Kyle from a distance. He’s bent under the chassis, precision handling a screw on the end of a long screwdriver. With his arm raised above his head as he lies on his side, he displays every one of his toned muscles in his forearm as he twists that screw to the exact tension. The grease covering his tattooed skin glistens as his arm moves, tightening the nut and adding to my pleasure.

  My glance lowers to his athletic butt, my important statistics once again being swallowed by that fog. His standard issue cargo shorts have ridden up so that from where I’m seated I have a most appealing view all the way up his strapping thigh. This guy needs to squat for his job, but it’s clear he takes his responsibilities seriously.

  I follow the bulk of his muscle as far as I can without craning my neck and making my observations obvious. I follow the sliver of underwear just visible across until my gaze returns to rest on the exterior of his solid cheeks. I wonder about what’s beneath that uniform.

  He cuts my appreciation short, sliding back out and turning briefly in my direction before kneeling to grab another screw. There’s something about how he moves that I haven’t noticed before, or maybe only subconsciously. It’s with a quiet purpose. He doesn’t possess any one feature which stands out as the reason for him being so fucking dazzling. Yes, his body is to die for. I’m savoring the benefits of his hard work in the gym, that’s for sure, but it’s more. His face is split with a strong nose which could overpower those of other, weaker men. But on him, with his easy going personality, it somehow enhances his features, casting just the right amount of shadow over his dark eyes. Midnight lashes match his short hair, pools of intensity mirror his gentle nature, but there’s also an honesty evident. It wouldn’t matter what color eyes Kyle had. They'd always be beautiful because they reflect his soul.

  Kyle

  I can’t escape him. That’s one problem.

  The real issue is that I’m not sure whether I actually want to break free from the enigma which is Elliott Judd.

  He kissed me. And I allowed him to kiss me.

  In full view of any passer-by in the corridor outside potentially busy meeting rooms, and on my second day in my new job. A job I’ve been craving for as long as my career has spanned. He has me questioning my sanity.

  But, he took me by surprise. What choice did I have?

  He pinned me against the wall and commandeered what he desired. I guess they’re the qualities you need to succeed in an industry where only the top fifteen in the world compete in multi-million-dollar cars.

  I turn this over for a moment.

  Who am I kidding?

  I liked it.

  I wanted him to kiss me.

  I even kissed him back. And when I did, it was so natural. It felt good. It felt right.

  Only my head said no.

  I wanted him.

  God, how I wanted him, he felt amazing. The weight of his body as he bulldozed my spine against that wall and his intense power as both his powerful arms straddled my face, meeting my lips head on with his was intoxicating. The currents that ran up from the base of my spine, sending my head, heart, and cock all pounding in one blazing response felt like the most natural emotion in the world.

  But it’s not who I am. In the real world, I’d break free, press the time out buzzer. But, it’s not possible here. We live together, work together, and socialize together. And it appears that’s not enough for him.

  I’ve never worked with drivers who sit in the pit garage running over their stats. It could be what makes him one of the best in the world, that he looks at every detail from alternate angles. But, normally they’re upstairs in the offices, flipping between one data file after another with their engineers. Spending hours poring over the minutiae of the curve on a bend. I wonder how far my curve will be prepared to bend.

  Is this thing real? It sure as hell felt real.

  He turns me on that’s for sure. After testing earlier, he hopped out of the car to avoid the possibility of an electrical charge from the kinetic recover system and unzipped his fire suit. His pecs rippled under his rash vest and his neck, muscular to tolerate mighty amounts of G-force, made his Adam’s apple bob. As he laughed, he flipped his head back, elated under his helmet and I swear his car’s electrical current must have jabbed at me.

  “You’re a crazy adrenaline junkie.” Greg, the number two mechanic punches him on the arm.

  Whipping off his helmet and scrubbing down his fire hood, his perfect white teeth display within a huge grin. “That was breath taking. This car is like nothing else I’ve driven. Pure danger. I love it.” I hang back against a mobile shelving unit, avoiding any kind of interaction until I’m confident in how to behave.

  He swipes a hand through his blond curls, raking them back from his eyes. “Well done guys, this machine is awesome.” He says it to everyone, but my heart soars with a stab and then my hands sweat as I experience my own adrenaline rush from just listening to his voice directed somewhere in my direction.