The race

It was the biggest racing match of the school year. The whole track was packed — students, teachers, even some parents lined the stands. Engines screamed as the cars lined up at the starting grid. Jackson’s bright red number 7 sat right at the front, his helmet already on, visor down. My brother was two cars behind him.

I sat on the watching bench with Bella,My legs were crossed, arms folded, pretending nothing had ever happened between me and Jackson.

The lights went out.

Engines roared. The race exploded into motion. Cars shot forward in a blur of colour and smoke. I kept my face neutral even when Jackson took the first corner tight and clean, pulling ahead early. Lap after lap he stayed in front, driving like the track belonged to him. Every time he passed the stands the crowd got louder. I bit the inside of my cheek and stayed quiet.

On the final lap he pulled even further ahead. The chequered flag waved. Jackson crossed the line first. The stands erupted.

I clapped once, too hard, before I could stop myself.

Bella turned to me, eyes wide.

“Are you cheering for Jackson?”

“Oh… no.” I sat back down quickly, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “I was cheering for my brother,” I said slowly.

Bella kept staring at me, suspicious.

“What?” I asked.

“Nothing…” she said, looking away and taking a long sip of her milkshake.

I waited until the podium photos started and the crowd began to thin. Then I slipped away.

I snuck around the back of the locker rooms. The door to the drivers’ area was half open. Jackson was inside, still in his racing suit, the top half peeled down to his waist. Sweat ran down his chest and abs. His hair was damp, his eyes still bright from the adrenaline of the win.

The second he saw me he grabbed my wrist, pulled me inside the bathroom and locked the door.

“Missed me already, huh dushface?”

I shoved at his chest. He shoved back harder, spinning me around and bending me over the metal bench. My skirt was yanked up, panties dragged to the side. He didn’t bother taking anything else off. The racing suit was still hanging around his hips as he pushed into me in one rough thrust.

“Fuck—!”

He covered my mouth with one gloved hand and fucked me hard and fast, the adrenaline still pouring through him. Every stroke was deep, almost punishing. The bench scraped against the floor. My moans stayed trapped behind his palm. He leaned over my back, mouth against my ear.

“you re my bitch"

I nodded, eyes watering from how roughly he was taking me.

He bit the side of my neck and slammed into me harder until I came shaking against the cold metal.

Only then did he follow, burying himself deep and flooding me while his whole body shuddered from the leftover high of the race. Thick pulses spilled inside me as his hips jerked. I clenched around him, still shaking from my own orgasm, the metal bench cold under my stomach.

We stayed locked together for a few seconds, him still buried to the hilt, both of us breathing hard. The distant sound of the celebration outside filtered through the walls.

Then voices suddenly got louder. A group of other race riders pushed into the locker room, laughing and talking over each other.

“Jackson smoked everyone out there—”

“Bullshit, that first corner wasn’t fair—”

“He still won, man, stop crying—”

My heart slammed against my ribs. I knew that one voice instantly. George. My brother.

Jackson’s eyes met mine. He stayed completely still inside me, one hand clamping firmly over my mouth so I couldn’t make a sound. We both froze, listening.

“Where’s Jackson? I left him here,” George said, footsteps moving around the locker room.

Other guys started looking too. Some of them were already peeling off their racing suits, tossing gloves and helmets onto benches, heading toward the showers.

“Oh come on, who the hell is in here?” someone called out when they noticed the bathroom door was locked. “Jackson, are you there?”

No answer.

Jackson’s hand stayed tight over my mouth. His cock twitched inside me once, still half-hard. I stared at him, eyes wide, barely breathing. Outside, more footsteps. Someone rattled the handle.

Then the banging started — fists hitting the door hard.

“Jackson! Open up, bro!”

Jackson finally spoke, voice calm and loud enough to carry.

“Guys, I’m in here. Give me a minute.”

Immediate teasing exploded on the other side.

“Dude, what the fuck are you doing in there?”

“You got a girl in there or what?”

“Hurry the fuck up, some of us need to shower!”

Jackson slowly pulled out of me. I felt his come start to leak down my thigh as he fixed my skirt with one hand, still keeping the other over my mouth for a second longer. He leaned in, lips brushing my ear.

“Stay quiet,” he whispered.

"Quiet?? my brother is fucking outside" I whispered. "shhhhh" he hushed me putting his fingers on my lips.I stayed pressed against the wall inside the small bathroom, heart racing, thighs sticky, listening to my brother’s voice mix with the others while Jackson laughed it off like nothing had happened.