Rev Read Free Page B

never fucked a racecar driver.”
    “Well, I wouldn’t say that’s exactly what I am… But hell, Carpe Diem.”
    A baffled expression swept across her face. “Wait, what does that mean?”
    “Never mind,” I answered.
    Not the sharpest tool… But, anyway, I’m more interested in what she can do with my tool…
    “Seize the moment,” I added.
    “Oh!” She perked up. “YOLO!”
    “Sure, right.” I slipped off my boxer-briefs and she gasped, pulling back with her hand over her mouth.
    “It’s just like everyone says,” she suddenly blurted out. “Sarah told me you were big, and boy she wasn’t kidding.”
    I smiled proudly.
    If you’ve got it, flaunt it.
    “Well, thank the Gryffin gene pool I guess,” I remarked.
    She slipped off the bed and got on her knees, putting her hands on my hips. I closed my eyes, waiting for her mouth to cover the raging head of my cock. But she hesitated, thinking something over.
    “Wait, Gryffin…” she started. “That’s the name on all those big trucks—they’re everywhere here. You must be really rich then.”
    I grumbled unintelligibly.
    Not this again.
    Gryffin Transportation was the family business, and I had nothing to do with it. Instead, I spent my time evenly split between my two favorite things: fast cars and fast women. My dad didn’t like that. Which meant I didn’t take a cent from the family. I wouldn’t have either way.
    My life, my rules.
    Suddenly the loud sound of the front door slamming echoed from downstairs. The girl in front of me—whatever her name was—who not a moment ago had perched so delightfully in front of my hard dick, abruptly shot back up on her feet and grasped for her blouse.
    “You should go!” she uttered in a harsh whisper.
    I pulled up my boxer-briefs and grabbed my shirt and jeans. “I thought you said your dad—”
    I didn’t bother finishing the sentence. Everything suddenly made sense.
    How could I be so stupid?
    Well, there was the bad habit I had. The one where I often did the thinking with my junk instead of my brain. Things started to make a lot more sense when I considered that this girl was the other type.
    The other type of easy lay that showed up at the track. The kind of hot ass married to a much older, much richer guy who just couldn’t do it for her anymore.
    Problem was, I drew the line at marriage. And my more immediate problem was I had to get the fuck out of here. Without thinking it over, I grabbed my jeans, shirt, and leather jacket, and hauled ass right down the hall.
    He was in front of me, the old bastard. Eyes wide with fury and face flushed crimson red right up to his extremely receded hairline. I shrugged an apology, spat out something like “look I didn’t know,” and ducked under the swing of his punch.
    Then I just barreled down the hall. Pretty sure I knocked a few things over in the process, but hell—this was Nevada. I wanted to get out of there before he got his gun. I mean, I know what it looked like. I was in my underwear, holding my clothes, and running right out of the bedroom with his wife peering out from behind the door.
    I blasted through the entryway while grabbing my key from my pants pocket. I threw my clothes in the back of the car, hit the clutch, and turned the key.
    Just as I peeled out backwards out of the driveway, past the front door, that old bastard came out swinging a baseball bat, face even redder this time.
    Oh, thank you…thank you.
    I was positively overjoyed it wasn’t a gun. Even when he swung, knocking off my passenger side-view mirror and denting the side of the car, I was still overjoyed. And I was still happier when, without having incurred any bodily harm whatsoever, I found myself happily speeding along the desert interstate in nothing but my boxer-briefs.
    Then my phone buzzed. A text from Ink. Well, Julian, to be exact. But no one called him that except our parents.
    You know Mayhem has a fight today. Expecting you here at 9.
    Oh shit! I