Dirt Driven (Racing on the Edge Book 11)

had broken and finally, we could go to bed. But judging by the expression my husband wore, I had a feeling I wasn’t getting any sleep. At least not until he was done with me.
His eyes drifted to Lane. “We good?”
“Yep.” Lane patted his shoulder. “Get some sleep.”
Sleep? Ha. Like he had that in mind.
ONCE THE GUYS were finished up for the night, Rager and I went up the road to the truck stop and parked next to Lane and Bailey. Quietly, we moved to our room in the back, careful not to wake the kids. Or Rosa who was sound asleep on the couch. Why she hadn’t stayed with Tommy tonight wasn’t a surprise. Believe it or not, they’re married, yet rarely sleep in the same room. And judging by the noises that come from both of them, you would understand. It’s like the battle of who can snore louder.
“What’s that howling noise?” Rager asked, tossing his shirt on the bed.
I closed the door to our room in the back, locking it. “Rosa. She snores.”
“Sounds like a damn train.”
“It’s because of her our kids can sleep through just about anything.”
“True,” he noted, pulling the blanket back on the bed. Not only was his face still banged up from the fight with Easton in the pits, he looked exhausted. Mentally and physically. That’s what an eighty-race schedule in eight months did to you.
“You’re not really going to sleep yet, are you?” he asked when I rolled over to set my phone on the charger, his hands cupping both my ass cheeks and yanking me flush against him.
“It’s almost five in the morning. We should get sleep at some point.”
“I’ll make it quick,” Rager panted against my neck, his body trembling with pent-up need. “Or I can suck your pussy until you have a hickey.”
Told you he didn’t want to sleep. And then I thought to myself, yeah, I’m tired and the kids will be up soon, but it probably would be quick. Being on the road with four kids and a nanny who wanted to see your husband’s junk didn’t lend well to time alone. Or sex.
Ever tried having sex in a motor home with other people in it? People you didn’t want knowing you were having sex?
Doesn’t work. The damn thing shakes and it was obvious. Our kids didn’t know any different, but Rosa, any ounce of movement and she knew. For that reason, it’d been almost a week since we had sex and for Rager and me, it might as well have been a month.
I smiled when his mouth found mine. “You know it’s going to wake them up.”
“They sleep through Rosa snoring.” Drawing back, he stared at me like I’d lost my mind. “How will a little movement wake them?”
“You know what I mean. We’ve tried this before.”
He knew exactly what I meant. We’d tried to have sex many times in the middle of the night but Pace, or Rosa, always woke up and wanted to know why the motor home was moving. Last time Rosa sat outside our locked door and asked for lap-by-lap commentary. Rager wasn’t impressed. And clearly, by the distant expression he wore now, he too remembered.
“Fuck, fine.” His voice changed from annoyed to commanding in the blink of an eye. “Let me get you off then.” Without words, he rolled off me and to the side. Before I could tell him maybe that wasn’t even a good idea, he slipped his hand inside my shorts and I couldn’t think of a reason why it wasn’t a good idea.
Rolling us on the bed, my back rested against his chest, his fingers rubbed my clit back and forth, his thumb pressing down on the hood. As a shuddered breath shook through me, the bed squeaked and shifted. “You’re so goddamn good at this.”
His breath hitched, his hips raising up so that his erection was firmly between my ass cheeks. “Which is why you should let me fuck this greedy pussy of yours. I’m even better with my dick.”
Taking a firm grip on my hip, and the other remaining between my legs, Rager took control of the situation. His middle fingers worked the inside line, and his thumb, the cushion, if you will. Let me tell you, he had fast time for sure. If anyone could set quick time to an orgasm, it was my husband.
“That’s it,” he cooed, lifting his hips into my ass. Grinding, pulling, pushing, anything to create friction for not only himself, but me. A soft grunt rumbled through him, his feet flat on our mattress as he once again raised his hips up to meet mine. Sucking in a breath, he worked his fingers faster. The base of my spine tingled and the backs of my legs trembled. Fuck. I needed him to make me come. His dark hair falling against my face tickled my nose. “I can smell your pussy and I need to be inside it.”
Straightening my legs, I held onto his arm as if it was a lifeline when I came. Probably looked ridiculous, but the relief was needed for sure.
My body hadn’t completely relaxed when his lips crashed into the arch of my neck, sucking, biting, anything to get his point across. It had been too long for him. I rolled my head back against his shoulder and whispered in his ear, “Can you be quiet?”
“I am,” he snapped, capturing a mouthful of my tender skin. “You’re the one moaning.”
“I meant to fuck me.” I yanked on his wrist and rolled off him in the same motion. He rolled too, holding me to his chest on our sides. “And I’m not moaning. I’m fucking breathing.”
“Baby, I know what your moan sounds like. And that was a moan.” He brought his hand to my mouth and the other one I lay on wrapped around my throat. “Suck.”
He had a thing for making me do this. Sucking on his fingers after he’d made me come. I