“Nope, I was fortunate in that department.”
“Are you the black sheep or something, at least?”
I snort. “Why, because I ride a motorcycle, enjoy a good fist fight, like my liquor, and enjoy pussy more than the average feeble male?”
She nods, being completely honest with me.
“No, sweetie, my family loves me, rough and wild and all.”
“You’re lucky.”
I nod. “I am. Got my first motorcycle in high school. I had a part-time job, and the bike was the first transportation I could afford. The rest is history. What about you?”
“Why do you want to know?”
“Well, besides the fact that you just bombarded me with all those questions? Because I want to know more about you than just your attitude and tight pussy.”
Her cheeks tint, and I grin again. It’s hard not to smile when she’s sitting here all quiet and sweet, eating her breakfast and has made me come all night long. Usually, she tough as nails closed off Chevelle. I like her like this.
She tucks a long dark lock behind her ear and shrugs. “Not much to tell. I grew up on the streets.”
“On the streets? Here?”
“No, in Houston. I ended up here by accident.”
I nod, wanting to hear more. I want her to tell me everything there is to know when it comes to her. “And your family?”
“I have none.” She shrugs, and I find it hard to believe that she’s so unaffected. I may be a dick and all, but I still love my parents and sibling.
“Wait, you’re an orphan.” It’s more of a statement than a question as the thought hits me.
She swallows. “Yes.”
“Weren’t you in foster care or something?” The thought of her alone all this time has my stomach in knots. No wonder she can easily be so closed off and cynical. It’s how she’s learned to protect herself on the inside.
“They tried, but I ran away.”
“And no one caught you?” My sneaky girl. Can’t say that surprises me. Chevelle likes to prove to everyone and herself that she needs nor wants anyone.
She clears her throat, growing tense. “No, I adapted.” I can feel her closing off, so I drop it for now, but I still want to know.
“Damn, those burritos were good.” I rub my hands over my stomach drawing her eyes to the taut, muscular area.
Her shoulders relax as she takes the subject change with ease. “I love that place. Eighty percent of their monthly sales probably comes from me.”
“That’s a lot of tacos, Chevy.”
She smiles with a nod then stands and takes our trash, throwing it away. My eyes remain glued to her form as she sways in her own erotic strut she seems oblivious to. We were eating in the middle of the track. Random spot but this is where we ended up after searching the place, and with both of us starving decided to just sit and eat right on the track.
“So how did you get into racing?” I ask as she comes back, and I stand up. I don’t know where we’ll end up next, but I start walking beside her. Taking her hand in mine, she doesn’t pull away, and like a fucking chick, I get all excited inside. Her pussy already has me whipped after only one night being buried in her wet warmth.
“I met this older man.” My hard gaze finds hers, and she smiles. Shaking her head, she backtracks. “Think of him as a grandpa in a sense. He had a shop and fixed cars. He caught me begging near his place one night and told me if I helped clean up his shop, he’d buy me dinner. Being young and the promise of a full stomach, I jumped on the offer.”
She takes a drink of her soda and continues. “His shop was trashed, but regardless, I cleaned it. The job ended up taking me nearly a week to complete, but each day as promised, he’d order a bunch of food. I’d eat until I was in a food coma and clean my ass off in return. He never asked me where I’d go at night, and before he’d have a chance to forget about me, I’d be out in front of the shop, first thing.”
“Where did you go at night?” I interrupt to ask.
She sighs. “I was sleeping under a bridge near his business.”