“There’s only one time and place you can call me Sully.”
“When we’re alone?”
“Nope. When my dick’s inside you.”
Oh, boy. That sent a jolt right straight to my lady parts.
He grins like he knows it. “Did you just get wet at the thought?”
I turn away, my face flaming. “Shut up and drive.”
Two hours later, we pull in at Dry Gulch Motocross Park. It’s a small place, but it’s the closest to Rock Creek Raceway’s layoutas we could find online. It’ll work for today. I need to shake the dust off and hope I still can do this.
It’ll be embarrassing if I’m a complete failure today.
We pay to enter and Sully—correctionKeno—finds a place to park in the gravel lot.
I hop from the truck, and the two of us work together unstrapping the bikes and rolling them off.
Keno has a five-gallon red plastic gas container with a big black nozzle, and he fills both our tanks. “That should give us about two hours of riding time, depending on how hard we go at it.”
“Since neither of us has done this in a while, that should be enough for today,” I reply.
He puts his helmet on and tugs his gloves down his hands, then swings his leg over his bike and looks over at me.
“You ready, Six?”
I grin and nod.
“Let’s hit it.”
We roar onto the track that loops back and forth over the winding, hilly course.
There are only about half a dozen other riders out here today, so we’ve got plenty of room to get used to the bikes and the track.
Exhilaration floods me. God, I’ve missed this.
I keep pace with Keno until my nerves relax and the bike feels like slipping on an old pair of worn shoes. It all comes rushing back, and it’s like I never quit.
After a few laps, Keno and I race, and he hangs right with me in every turn and we trade places back and forth for two laps, but by the third lap, I’m beating him in the corners and the distance separating us increases to twenty yards.
When we stop, pulling off the track, I’m off my bike and jumping up and down with excitement, my hands in the air.
He stops beside me and gives me a high-five. “You’ve still got it, girl.”
His praise warms everything inside me.
“Let’s go again,” I say excitedly.
We ride for two hours, then load the bikes back on the trailer.
I’m feeling exhilarated when we climb in the cab.
“I forgot how much I loved riding,” I say.
Keno turns onto the highway and looks over at me.
“I forgot how good you are. You’ve got skills, Six. You know just where to take a corner, and you’re fearless out there. I love how you don’t let the other riders intimidate you.”