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Saturday, July 25, 2009

Saturday Night Special by Wendi Zwaduk

Blaine wiped the sweat from his brow and tossed his helmet into the cockpit of his Late Model dirt car. A third place finish wasn’t his idea of great, but then again, the small paycheck would be enough to race the next week.

A woman walked past him, arm in arm with another driver. He raked his fingers through his ebony hair, longing for the happy ending his sister Emma and brother-in-law Sam found. He yearned to stroll back to his car hauler with a ready and willing female. Yeah, right. He longed to celebrate his top five with the only woman he loved.

Blaine removed his gloves and threw them in the car window. He unzipped his fire suit and withdrew the wallet sized snapshot from his breast pocket. Mallory’s green eyes and fiery red hair sent a warm rush through his system. Sweet memories squeezed his heart. How he longed to tangle his fingers in the ruddy strands as they made love. He could almost feel her velvety tongue caressing his cock.

Did her latest bikini pictorial take her to a remote island in the Caribbean or maybe to Alaska? She loved snow. Her modeling career kept her in luxury while his job as a professional racer barely paid the shop bills. Before he could propose, she walked out and took his very soul.

“Thinkin’ about that woman?”

Crimson flushed Blaine’s cheeks and burned the tips of his ears. Kellen, his chief mechanic and best friend stood beside the prone race car. “What makes you say that, Kell?”

“The tent in your britches, B. She’s still on your mind, isn’t she?”

Blaine nodded and stared at the silent race track. “I’ll never forget her.”

Kellen clapped him on the shoulder. “Why don’t you grab your Team Whitman hat from the truck cab in case the press shows up?”

“Why?” Blaine snapped. “There’s no one at the track except us. Who do I have to dress up for?” Kellen gave him a punch on the arm. “Just get the damn hat.” With that, he walked away.

Blaine stared at Kellen’s back for a moment. What the hell? He unzipped his fire suit and tied the sleeves about his waist. As he rounded the car hauler, he noticed the driver’s side door of the truck wide open. A pair of long legs and stiletto sandals peeked out.

His breath caught when he spotted the black and scarlet 33w tattoo in her sculpted ankle. His number. His hands itched to hold her. Blaine surged to the truck cab. “Mallory?”

The pale light from the parking lot spread across the interior of the truck, making her eyes shine. She patted the seat. “I needed a soft place to sit. These heels are killing me.”

His gaze slid to the strappy black shoes. The sight of Mal in nothing but those sandals rocked him. “They’re killing me too.” Realizing he verbalized his thoughts, his attention snapped back to her face with a quick meander over her black miniskirt and blood red halter. “I mean…”

Mallory slipped off the seat and smoothed her hands along his pecs, flicking her thumbs over the turgid little nipples through his ivory T-shirt. She traced her nose along his jaw and nipped his lips. Blaine groaned. She still tasted like strawberries. He clutched her shoulders, afraid she might disappear if he let go. “You’ve been away a long time, sweetheart.”

Her green eyes darkened to the color of the forest. “Too long.” She nibbled his Adam’s apple and slid her palm to the bulge in his uniform. “Untie the sleeves, Blaine.”

He nodded and did her bidding. No other woman held this power over him. Blaine swooped in to sample her lips once again. His tongue tangled with hers. The struggles with the race, the frustration of his lackluster finish, and the stack of bills waiting for him in the garage seemed to evaporate.

Mallory tugged the zipper as far down as it would go. “I want to taste you like I did on our first date. Lay down in the backseat.”

Blaine jerked her into his arms. “This is the same track where you walked into my life and stole my heart.”

Mallory grabbed the door latch and tugged him into the truck cab. “Here’s to new beginnings. Now strip.” God, he loved the power games she played. He wriggled out of his fire suit and reclined against the vinyl. Mallory knelt between his knees and scratched his inner thighs with her nails. His cock stood at attention. She licked her lips and untied her halter, baring her breasts. Her eyes grew a darker shade of green, almost black. Her pink tongue danced over the thick vein on the underside of his dick.

Blaine tangled his fingers in her hair. “Fuck, yes.”

A muffled groan was her only reply as she sucked on the bulbous head. Her heat enveloped him. She pumped his cock, slurping and loving him with her tongue. The sensations of orgasm swept over him. He gritted his teeth. “Come with me.”

Blaine yanked her from the floor and ripped the miniskirt up over her hips. Slick satiny skin met his. “No panties?” Mallory slid back and forth on his dick, lubricating their union. “I held out hope.”

He grasped her hips and impaled her on his length. He panted. “I never stopped loving you.”

Mallory cupped his cheeks and matched his intensity with her own. “Which is why I came home.” She whimpered and pressed her forehead against his. “I’m not me without you.”

Blaine rolled over, increasing his thrusts. His mind spun. She came home? Held out hope? “God, you’re so snug, Mal. Your pussy holds me as tight as your mouth, babe.”

“Only for you.” Mallory clawed his back. Her body convulsed under his. “I love you.”

The orgasm took him over the edge and Blaine roared. He collapsed next to her on the seat and curled his arms around her body. “How long this time?”

Mallory nuzzled his neck. “Forever. New York isn’t the same without you.”

Blaine tucked her hair behind her ear. “Really?”

She drew on his lips with her index finger. “Marry me.”

He toyed with her nipple. “Later.”

About the author: About the author: Thanks for enjoying this work by Wendi Zwaduk. By day she’s a SAHM of one son, two dogs, and two cats, but at night she lets her inner muse run wild and writes tales of love won, lost, and won again. If she’s not at her computer, she can be found at her local dirt tracks cheering for the Late Model cars or haunting the local library in search of new authors. Her first novel comes out in early 2010 from the Wild Rose Press. Check out her blog at

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