Page 89 of Jackrabbit

“Hey," Andre said as Colt started to pull away. "If you've still got my number…”

Colt grinned and slid his hand down Andre's back, squeezed him close. “I'm currently off the market. Got myself on a tight leash." Colt's eyes flicked to Beau, just for a second. "But give me a call in four months."

Andre laughed. “Like that, huh? I'll set a reminder.”

Four months. Said so goddamn casually.

Beau’s hands tightened on the wrench until his knuckles went white. Four months, and then Colt would be gone—off to Charlotte, to Liberty, to men like Andre who'd worship him the way he deserved. Men who weren't broken. People who weren't so goddamn scared of losing someone that they pushed them away before they could get too close.

People who weren't Beau.

Which was what they'd agreed to, what they both needed, and Beau needed to get his head out of his own fucking ass before he screwed even this up.

"Rourke," he said again, his voice rough. "Now.”

Colt gave Andre one more squeeze and jogged over, pulling his suit arms up as he did. “Yes, sir.”

“Dead Wake wants two laps for the ad.” Beau tucked his wrench in his pocket and zipped up Colt’s suit. “Then I want fifteen once they're gone.”

“Fifteen,” Colt groaned. “Sadist.”

A game. Everything was a game to Colt. Beau's jaw tightened.Four months.Four months until Colt went back to men like Andre—men who'd let him give and take and worship, men who weren't so goddamn broken they couldn't accept a simple touch without flinching. Andre would call. Colt would answer. And some other man would get to feel what Beau had felt two nights ago—Colt desperate and eager, begging to worship, to give, to prove he was good.

Fine. If that's all Beau had, he'd make damn sure Colt remembered every second of it.

He lowered his voice. “That what you like, Colt?”

Colt's eyes lit up, and his grin widened. His breathing hitched, just barely—but Beau felt it under his thumb. “Maybe. Why don't you find out?”

“You have yourself a good run, and we'll see, how ‘bout that?” Beau finished with the collar and handed Colt his balaclava and helmet.

“What's your definition of a good run?” Colt asked.

Beau leaned in, just close enough that only Colt could hear. "Fast. Tight. And you better not come until I tell you to." He straightened, voice returning to normal volume. "Clean lines. No mistakes. Show me you can focus.”

“Yes, sir,” Colt agreed, watching Beau with exactly the kind of focus he gave the track.

They stood apart from the Dead Wake crew as the majority of them packed up their cameras. The boss and one other guy remained, fiddling with a drone they'd had to fight to get approved.

“Good boy.” Beau said it loud enough for anyone to hear, casual as any coach praising his driver, and turned away before Colt could respond. He didn't need to look back to know Colt was grinning like a fool.

Beau waited until the guy had it up in the air and gave Beau the nod of approval before he connected to Colt’s radio. “Alright, go.”

The car roared, the drone zipped after it. Colt showed two beautiful, perfect laps. He was silent over the radio the whole time. By lap four, the camera crew had packed up and their boss was shaking Beau’s hand on his way out.

“How was that, Coach?”Colt asked when it was just the two of them. “Tight enough for you?”

“Concentrate.” Tight. Heat. The way Colt sounded when he had Beau’s mouth. How would he sound when he had fingers, a tongue, Beau’s cock? “You’re getting sloppy on the exit of two. You’re chasing the thrill, Colt. Letting the back end step out because you like the way it feels to catch it. Stop playing with yourself.”

“Playing with myself.”The smirk in Colt’s voice was clear. “You gonna play with me instead, Beau?”

“Not if you don't give me the clean laps.” His eyes followed as Colt dove into turn 3. “Downshift later. Wait for it. Wait. Now. Hard on the brake, but keep the nose up. Don't let it dive. Smooth, Colt. If I see that chassis twitch, we’re done for the night.”

“Jesus,”Colt whispered as Beau watched him deliver exactly what Beau had asked for. “You getting me hot on purpose? Because this lace—it's tight. And the vibrations, your voice. I think I could come like this.”

Christ. Colt would absolutely make himself come all over that lace right in his car while Beau listened. Filthy, beautiful slut.

“Boy, you better not,” Beau warned, hard just thinking about it anyway. “You have laps left.”