"𝐚𝐢𝐦 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐚𝐭"
𝐥𝐧⁴ 𝐱 𝐦𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐧 𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫
𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬: 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘔𝘦𝘭𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘠𝘢𝘴 𝘔𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘢, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘓𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘰 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘤𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘴' '25 𝘴𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘰𝘯. 𝘢𝘵 𝘢 𝘸𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 623 𝘱𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘴, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘔𝘤𝘓𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘯 𝘥𝘶𝘰. 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘢 𝘱𝘰𝘭𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘱2 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘮, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘰 𝘵𝘰 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘔𝘦𝘹𝘪𝘤𝘰 𝘊𝘪𝘵𝘺'𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘤𝘭𝘶𝘣𝘴. 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘥𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘱𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘭 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘳𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘰. 𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵, 𝘓𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘰 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘱𝘩𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳.
𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 𝟐𝐤
𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬: 𝘧𝘸𝘣 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘢, 𝘥𝘶𝘩 𝘴𝘮𝘶𝘵, 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘰(?), 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 (𝘞𝘙𝘈𝘗 𝘉4 𝘜 𝘛𝘈𝘗 𝘎𝘖𝘖𝘕𝘚), 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘢𝘴𝘮 𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘢𝘭 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘢 𝘴𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘯𝘵, 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 /𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘺𝘴, 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝗂𝗇𝖿𝗂𝖽𝖾𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗒 𝗂𝖿 𝗎 𝗌𝗊𝗎𝗂𝗇𝗍 𝖾𝗑𝗍𝗋𝖺 𝗁𝖺𝖽 / 𝖯𝖱 𝗋𝖾𝗅𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉
“That’s another double podium for McLaren! L/N takes first place as her teammate Norris takes second!”
The commentator’s voice boomed from the multitude of tellys lining the bar, replaying the highlight reel repeatedly. Each cheer from the crowd sent electricity through my veins.
Mexico had been good to us — better than good. Our win had shaken our team up, and Zak insisted we celebrate properly. So here we were, in one of the nicest bars in Mexico City, the music pulsing through the floor, drinks flowing freely.
Lando and I were pressed shoulder to shoulder at the bar, taking shots and laughing at each other’s terrible attempts at drinking games. The tequila slid down warm and smooth before the inevitable burn hit me.
It loosened me, made everything feel softer, lighter — except the way Lando’s arm brushed mine every time he reached for his glass.
After a few rounds, he grinned at me, that mischievous, boyish smile of his.
“Dance floor?”
I raised a brow. “You sure you can handle me out there?”
He smirked. “I can handle you anywhere.”
I didn’t need more convincing.
The dance floor was packed, the bass so heavy I felt it in my chest. People recognized us immediately, cheering, raising their glasses, pulling us deeper into the crowd. Lando’s hand found mine and didn’t let go, tugging me closer until our bodies moved together with the beat.
Heat and alcohol blurred everything except him — his grin, his curls damp with sweat like after a race. The way his hand slid to the small dip of my back like it belonged there was electrifying.
“Careful,” he said near my ear, his lips brushing my skin, “you don’t know what you’re doing.”
I smiled, taking his words as a challenge. “I know exactly what I’m doing.”
I rolled my hips against his just enough to watch his jaw tighten.
For a while, we stayed like that — swaying, spinning, him twirling me just to pull me back in. Every touch felt intentional, every brush of his fingers a little more lingering than it should’ve been.
My chest felt tight, my body buzzing from more than the alcohol. I was out of breath, but I didn’t stop. I pressed closer, feeling him through the thin fabric of my dress separating us.
“You’re trouble,” he murmured, voice lower this time.
“Then get me out of here before I cause some.” A chuckle erupting from my throat.
His hand slid down to my wrist, squeezing gently as a symbol of understanding before tugging me toward the exit.
⛐༄
Lando barely slowed down long enough to tell Zak we were leaving.
“So soon? I expected you two to shut this place down,” Zak teased, patting Lando on the back.
“Yeah, well—she’s got a flight tomorrow with Will,” Lando said smoothly, his poker face perfect despite the way his fingers still curled around my wrist. Gentle, but not too gentle.
Ah, Will, the Red Bull engineer I was in a PR relationship with. We were “caught” holding hands one time, and my fans went wild; however, so did Lando.
But tonight, I wanted to forget all about him.
Zak hugged us both, oblivious to what we were about to get up to, before we slipped out of the nightclub. "You guys made us proud today. We'll see you back at MTC."
The car was waiting for us, and the moment the door shut, something shifted.
Lando’s arm went around me instantly, pulling me into his side like he couldn’t stand the space between us for even a second. His fingers slid over my bare thigh, slow at first, then squeezed just enough to make me bite my lip.
“Almost there,” he murmured, but it didn’t sound like reassurance; it was more like a promise.
I turned my face toward him, catching the sharp cut of his jaw. He was watching me, not the lights scattered across the city. His thumb traced a lazy circle on my leg, higher now, and I had to stop myself from climbing into his lap right there.
“Lando,” I warned, though my voice betrayed me — soft, needy.
His smirk was wicked. “Don’t tell me you’re getting shy now.”
I wasn’t. God, I wasn’t. I wanted him, wanted him so badly it hurt in my thighs and my heart.
When we reached the hotel, we both put on our best neutral faces, pretending to be nothing more than co-drivers as we crossed the lobby, waving politely at the few lingering fans who hadn’t called it a night just yet. Wherever we went, they followed.
But the second we reached my hallway, the act shattered. Lando’s hand shot out, caging me against the wall just outside my door, his breath warm against my ear.
“You have no idea what you did to me tonight,” he said, voice low and rough.
I fumbled with my keycard, the plastic slippery from my warm hands. “Then shut up and do something about it.” I scoffed.
That was all it took.
The second the lock clicked, Lando pushed the door open and kicked it shut behind us. His lips crashed onto mine, hot and desperate, our bodies colliding as though we hadn’t been touching all night.
I didn’t care that I could barely breathe, didn’t care that my back hit the door. I wanted more. My hands tangled in his curls, and I felt the low, guttural sound he made vibrate against my mouth.
There was no space, no patience, no more pretending.
Lando’s mouth was everywhere — my jaw, my throat, my clavicle— as if he was making up for every second we’d spent pretending tonight and forever. My neck was a mixture of purples and reds from his no-mercy kisses.
I barely managed to shove him back far enough to remove my heels before he grabbed me by the waist and spun me toward the couch.
My knees went jelly as he approached me. Lando dropped to his knees, his hands sliding up my thighs until his fingers hooked into the hem of my dress, the lace thong coming with it.
“You wore this for me?” he asked, tilting his head, pretending to be casual.
I smirked, breathless already. “Who else would I wear it for?”
Lando wanted to say Will, but he held his tongue.
My smart reply earned me a sharp kiss to the inside of my thigh. Then another, higher.
He took his time, worshipping every inch of my skin as he pushed the fabric up, his curls brushing my skin, his breath hot enough to make me shiver.
By the time he reached the top of my thighs, I was gripping the plush cushioning of the couch, trying not to beg.
“Lando,” I warned, my voice shaky.
His grin was wider than ever. “Patience, baby. I haven’t had the chance to enjoy you like this in weeks.”
He spread my legs wider, his palms firm on my skin. My chest rose and fell in uneven rhythm, my head tipping back as he finally pressed his lips against me through the thin fabric of my panties.
I gasped, my hips jerking, but his hands held me steady. He hummed against me, the vibration sending sparks down my spine.
“You’re already shaking,” he murmured against me, smug.
“Stop teasing.” I playfully whined.
His fingers hooked under the waistband, and with agonizing slowness, he slid my panties down, the lace fabric pooling around my ankles. His eyes locked on me the whole time.
“Look at you,” he said, voice gone rough. “So pretty for me.”
When he finally touched me — really touched me — I almost lost it. His tongue was hot, deliberate, moving slowly and deep enough to make my back arch off the couch.
I gripped his curls, not sure if I wanted to pull him closer or push him away before I lost control.
“Keep going,” I begged, my thighs trembling.
And he did, his fingers joining his mouth, building me up until I was half-crazed with the need to let go. Every time I got close, he’d slow down, pulling back just enough to make me whine.
“You sound so good when you beg,” he said, his voice thick with pride. “I got you. C’mon.”
I bit my lip, hesitating.
“Say it, or I stop.” He grunted
“Please, Lando. Please don’t stop.”
That broke something in him. He didn’t hold back this time — his mouth and fingers working in perfect rhythm until I felt the coil in my belly snap. My cry was sharp, raw, my entire body arching toward him.
He didn’t let up until I was trembling, completely undone.
Only then did he climb onto the couch, hovering over me before kissing me hard enough to taste myself on his lips.
“Proud of me ‘cause of today, Lando?” I breathed against his mouth.
“So proud,” he muttered, nipping at my lip. “First place looks good on you.”
Lando didn’t give me time to recover. His hands were already tugging at his shirt, pulling it over his head, tossing it somewhere across the room.
“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this again,” he growled, his lips crashing onto mine before I could reply.
I barely managed to tug his belt open before he shoved his bottoms and boxers down in one rushed movement. My head spun at the sight of him. He was flushed, hard, and looking at me like I was the only thing in the world worth having.
“Condom—” I started, but he cut me off with another kiss, swallowing my words. We never actually used them, but it was a little routine we ensued every time.
“I just need you,” he muttered, voice ragged. “Need you now.”
And then he was pushing into me, filling me in one desperate thrust that made my nails dig into his back. A loud groan ripped from his throat, and the sound alone nearly unraveled me.
“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he panted, setting a brutal pace right away. His hips slammed against mine, each thrust making the couch creak under us. “Made for me.”
Every inch of him, every sharp sound he made against my neck, every time his hand tightened on my hip to drag me closer.
“Lando—” I cried out, my voice cracking. Tears were pooling in my eyes.
“Say my name again.” His hand slid up, wrapping around my throat. Not too tight, but just enough to make my pulse skyrocket. “Say it like you mean it.”
“Lando,” I gasped, my legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him deeper, harder. “Please, don’t stop.”
His forehead pressed to mine, perspiring together as his breath was hot and uneven. “I'd never.”
The pressure built so fast it was almost unbearable. I was clawing at him, my manicured nails leaving streaks of red down his back that we were sure to see tomorrow. My high tore ripped through me as I cried his name out.
Lando wasn’t far behind. With a broken groan, he thrusted deeply once more as he held me there as he came undone.
He collapsed against me, his head hitting my chest. His weight pressed me into the cushions, but I didn’t care. I didn’t want him to move.
When he finally lifted his head, his aquamarine eyes were glassy, softer now. He kissed me, slower this time. His lips lingered as my mind was unfogging.
“I love you,” he whispered against my lips, the words raw and unguarded.
My chest tightened. I cupped his cheek, my thumb brushing the damp curls at his temple. “I love you too. I mean it.”
Something flickered across his face — relief, disbelief, probably both.
He kissed me again, gentler, like he was trying to memorize the curve of my lips and each individual chap.
“Then leave him,” he said quietly, almost pleading. “Show everyone us.”
I swallowed hard, my heart pounding for a different reason now. “I will. I promise.”
He closed his eyes, forehead resting against mine, a smile tugging at his lips. “That’s all I needed to hear.”
The room was hot, sticky with sweat and the smell of sex, but in that moment, I was wrapped up in him, and it felt like the safest place in the world.
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