Off To The Races Lyrics Novels & Stories

“All this groveling is sort of a turn-off, Mason. You’d better get your act together, or I might get over this crush I have on you.” I laughed, and she winked at me before she marched to the red X she had painted at the front of the line. “Gentlemen,” she cried, commanding the attention of everyone on the street. “You have sixty seconds before the final race in The Streets begins. Start your engines.” I jogged over to Rick’s Jeep as the crowd around my car dispersed. Rick grabbed my hand as I extended it to him, and we bumped shoulders. “Good luck, brother. Don’t fuck up.”

Bang! The starting gun fired. Elio's modified Maserati shot off the line like an uncaged black beast. He barely slowed for the corners, its tires screaming against the pavement in a shrill cry that pierced the entire tunnel. His driving was just as I remembered from when he'd pursued me: wild and commanding, every overtake a gamble with death itself. On the final lap, the car nearly went airborne as it tore across the finish line in first place. The underground racetrack erupted in a deafening roar of shouts and whistles.

I'm fightin' like I'm Ali But you got me on the ropes I never needed you like I do right now I never needed you like I do right now I never hated you like I do right now 'Cause all you ever do is make me Couldn't hear the thunder, but I heard your heart race Couldn't see the rain, we're too busy makin' hurricanes Love ain't easy when it ain't my way But it gets hard, when you ain't here makin' me crazy Baby, say the word, darlin'

I made my way to my stepdad's house, listening to a Mist track, Smokey. I started enjoying the lyrics. Late night cruising on a graft, smoking on the lemon or the am. Rolling on the passenger, cos I'm on a ban. Not long left now new whip soon land. Superbike daily cause I can, beamer try chase me, yeah it's mad kinda aggy lost the chase on the path. I'm weighing up the math, ain't worth the jail, are you daft? Said it ain't worth the jail, are you daft?

Tabitha’s POV “Riders, take your positions. Ready. Set—go!” The race begins with a violent roar. All ten riders surge forward like a pack of unleashed beasts, determined to devour each other to claim the title as the King of this metal racing jungle. Engines scream across the track, each bike darting into its chosen line as the announcer’s voice rises over the thunder.

The lead band answered. ***Intro music*** I know you think that I shouldn't still love you Or tell you that But if I didn't say it, well, I'd still have felt it Where's the sense in that? (Tears start rolling from her eyes. Every word in the lyrics comes from her heart) I promise I'm not trying to make your life harder Or return to where we were But I will go down with this ship And I won't put my hands up and surrender There will be no white flag above my door

Duh! "Okay." I'm so excited! It's been a while, really! The loud blast of the whistle screeched as it indicated that the race is about to begin, "Racers! On your bikes!" The started used a microphone to convey his message clearly. "Let's do this! See ya' on the other side, Navier!" Cryx winked at me as he started the engine. "Oh it's on dude!" I grinned and started my engine as well. I can hear the roar of my engine begging me to speed up.

"Pray to your God that I don't find a single injury on their skin after this race, Ace Rocco, cause if I do, this underground wouldn't contain the both of us, I swear." He laughed, pretending to be unmoved by my threats "Well well then, Let The Race Begin, I guess?"

My hips started lifting to chase the friction he was giving me. The kiss turned molten—wet, messy, endless—our lips sliding, tongues tangling, teeth grazing, breaths shared in desperate little pants between each damn claiming pull. My head was starting to get light from his kisses, and the music filled my ears. 🎶 *(Ride it) just lose control* *(Ride it, ride it) come touch my soul* *(Ride it, ride it) let me feel you* *(Ride it) turn the lights down low*

I froze near the entryway, suddenly hyper-aware that Drew’s rules did not include “become a source of visible relief.” “Hey,” I managed, forcing myself to sound normal. “So you’re… being a teenager.” Jace’s mouth twitched. “Apparently.” Rory leaned forward with wild hope. “Can you play? Please. He’s ruining my confidence.” “I don’t play racing games,” I said. Micah looked at me. “Good. Don’t.” Rory ignored Micah. “Please. I need someone on my side.” “I’m on the side of peace,” I told him, setting my bag down and heading toward the kitchen. “Also, I’m working.”