LOGIN“Get down on your knees,” I command. “Get down on your knees and suck me off, prove you're not affected by me by not getting hard, Or I press send and post this recording to every sports journalist in Europe before you can say jackpot.” **** Derek Hawk has always hated one thing, and that's the image Aleks Mcray portrays: the perfect, untouchable, old-money Formula 1 champion. Derek spent his whole life fighting for a seat on the grid, while Aleks was born for it. So when their team locks them in an isolated Swiss chalet to fix their public feud, Derek intends to make his rival's life miserable. Instead, he walks into Aleks’s room and catches him with his hand in his pants, groaning Derek's name as he pleasures himself. Armed with the secret, Derek finally has the leverage to ruin the ice prince. He demands complete submission, planning to break Aleks’s pride once and for all. What Derek doesn't realize is that Aleks has been secretly obsessed with him for years. Getting forced to his knees isn't a punishment, it's everything Aleks has ever wanted. What starts as revenge quickly turns into a dirty, addictive secret neither driver can walk away from, blurring the line until hatred and obsession look exactly the same.
View MoreDerek's POVI avoid Aleks for the rest of the day.And now, even at night, I can't sleep.I lie on top of the guest room covers in the dark, staring at the ceiling, replaying the same three seconds on a loop. Aleks on his knees. Aleks licking my finger clean. Aleks smiling like he'd just won something.Don't have the guts.I roll over and bury my face in the pillow, but it doesn't help. By 3 a.m., I'm so hard my jeans feel a size too small. I refuse to touch myself. I'm not giving him that satisfaction. I'm not giving him anything.Oh God, why did I walk out like that? I could have said anything. Why did I let him rage bait me?By morning, the world outside has vanished.Snow. Everything is buried in thick, heavy snow. The mountains, the driveway, the winding road we took up the mountain. A massive white wall, sealing us in.I find the emergency notification on my phone when I finally drag myself downstairs. Avalanche risk. Roads closed. No property access for at least three days.I s
Aleks POVSo fucking thick.An appropriate cock for my rival.Christ. Jesus fucking Christ.I can't remember the last time someone fucked my mouth like this. When I suck cock, I'm the one in control. I set the pace. I decide how it ends. I don't let other men get this domineering, this filthy, this rough with me.I'm a top. A fucking great one.This is so damn wrong.But God, I've never been harder in my life.I yank my zipper open and pull my aching erection out. I moan around Derek's cock and start stroking myself desperately, tears stinging my eyes from the intensity of it. The weight of him on my tongue, the hardness filling my mouth, the sheer humiliation of kneeling here and taking it. It's wrong and forbidden, and it feels so fucking good I could scream.Derek fucks my mouth faster. The wet sounds are utterly obscene as he grinds the head against the back of my throat, pulls out, and slams in again. And again. And again.Tears run down my cheeks. I'm fisting myself furiously, d
DEREK’S POVSeeing Aleks Mcray down on his knees is the single most surreal thing I’ve ever seen in my life.The untouchable ice prince of Formula 1—the guy who won’t even let journalists shake his hand if they’re sweating—is kneeling on the floor between my feet.His head is tilted up, his jaw clenched so hard the muscles in his neck are pulled tight.He’s looking directly into my face, holding my gaze like he’s trying to prove he isn’t breaking.I forced him down to show him that I hold all the power. That he can’t look down on me. That he isn’t better than me.So why does my pulse feel like I’m pulling 5Gs into turn four?“Well?” I rasp, my voice rougher than I mean it to be. “What are you waiting for, Mcray?”Aleks doesn’t answer immediately. He stays completely still, his chest rising and falling in short breaths.Slowly, he raises his hands. His fingers hover for a second over my belt buckle, trembling just enough to show the nightmare going on inside his head before he grips th
DEREK'S POV Having Aleks Mcray completely under my thumb feels better than winning pole position.By noon, I'm sitting on the leather sofa in the living room, my feet propped up on the glass coffee table as I watch the snowfall outside the windows. The chalet is quiet, except for the sounds coming from the kitchen.Aleks is making lunch.The image is absurd.The golden boy of Formula 1, the guy whose family owns half of Monaco's private banking sector, is standing at the stove in a black fitted sweater, sleeves rolled up, chopping vegetables for me.He moves with the same mechanical precision he uses on the track. Clean cuts. Neat piles. No wasted motion.But his jaw is clenched so hard I'm surprised his teeth haven't shattered.“How long on those eggs, Mcray?” I call out, letting my voice trail lazily across the room. “I'm starving.”Aleks doesn't turn around immediately. He finishes plating the food, takes a slow, steadying breath, then turns to face me.His face is a mask of ice,
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