my boobs are big because i keep all of my rage stored there
seen from United States
seen from Argentina
seen from China
seen from Italy
seen from Malaysia
seen from Argentina
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Czechia
seen from Yemen
seen from Italy
seen from Russia
seen from United States
seen from Italy
seen from Argentina
seen from United States
seen from Italy
seen from China
seen from Bulgaria
seen from United States
my boobs are big because i keep all of my rage stored there
suffer.
when someone brings up sebastian vettel and max verstappen in the same sentence so i genuinely have to show them this picture and explain how it means so much to me. they truly are the golden boys ever.
Racer Girl 🔥
Max Verstappen x Fem OC
Summary: Max and his streaming racer rival let the banter and tension get the better of them.
Warnings: 18+, NSFW, protected sex, fem oral rec'v, fingering, light choking, dirty praise.
Word Count: 9, 044
----------------------------
Winter break, to Max, meant exactly three things.
Sleep, ignore his phone and sim racing until his eyes felt like they were being fried in a pan.
Everyone else treated the F1 winter break like a spiritual reset. Beach holidays, fancy dinners, ski trips, matching pajama photos with their girlfriends, gym videos where they pretended to enjoy cardio.
Max had done none of that.
He had landed in Monaco, unpacked approximately half of his suitcase, stepped over the rest of it for three days straight, and then basically fused himself to his sim setup.
It was perfect.
He had one headset, multiple screens, one drink, and one beautiful opportunity to ruin strangers' evenings online.
He was streaming, too, mostly because his friends had bullied him into it.
"People like watching you be grumpy," Joel had said over the phone.
"I am not grumpy."
Joel had laughed so hard Max had hung up.
So now here he was, live to thousands of people, sitting in his room with his hoodie sleeves pushed up, his hair a little messy, his face lit up by the glow of three monitors while the chat moved fast.
"Okay," Max said, clicking into the next lobby. "We do one more race, then I am done for the night."
The chat immediately went off.
ONE MORE = TEN MORE
LIAR
MAX YOU SAID THAT TWO HOURS AGO
blink twice if sim racing owns you
Max leaned closer to the screen and squinted. "I can stop whenever I want."
The chat spammed laughing emojis.
He ignored them, very maturely, and entered the lobby.
For exactly four seconds, everything was peaceful, until he saw a username.
Amyra1655
Max went still and his jaw tightened.
"Oh, for fuck's sake."
The chat lost its mind.
SHE'S HERE
AMYRAAAA
THE QUEEN HAS ARRIVED
MAX'S WORST NIGHTMARE
HERE WE GO
Max stared at the name. Amyra1655 had become a problem. Not a little problem...a serious, irritating, deeply inconvenient, makes him want to log off but he would rather die problem.
She had appeared in one of his lobbies two weeks into winter break, driving like someone who had no fear, no manners, and no concern for Max's blood pressure. She was fast. Annoyingly fast. Not reckless, not sloppy.
She braked late enough to be offensive. Defended like she was guarding royal jewels. And the worst part was that she talked...a lot.
Not nervous talking. Not fan talking. Not "oh my god Max Verstappen" talking. Trash talking, directed mainly at him.
The first time she had overtaken him, she had calmly said over voice chat, "Sorry, was that the 4 time F1 world champion? I thought it was old lady traffic."
Max had nearly crashed into a wall...not because of the overtake, because of the disrespect.
Since then, she had become unavoidable. Every other lobby, there she was. Same username. Same calm voice. Same ability to make Max want to throw his headset directly into the marina.
He had no idea who she was.
He had asked once.
She had said, "Someone faster than you."
He had not asked again.
Now, her little mic icon lit up.
"Oh good," came Amyra's voice. "The Dutch roadblock is here."
Max closed his eyes for half a second.
The chat went feral.
DUTCH ROADBLOCK
SHE CAME READY
AMYRA 1 MAX 0
Max leaned into his microphone. "You know, most people say hello...brat."
"Hello, Dutch roadblock."
"That is not better."
"It felt better to me."
Max huffed, selecting his setup. He could already feel his mood shifting. Not bad, exactly. Just sharper. Like his brain had been half asleep before and now someone had thrown ice water on it.
That was the infuriating part. Racing random people was fun, racing Amyra was personal.
"You are starting P8?" he asked, looking at the qualifying order.
"Yeah," she said. "I wanted to give you a chance."
Max actually laughed, but it came out more like a scoff. "You qualified P8 because you are slow."
"I qualified P8 because someone spun in sector two and I had to avoid him."
"Sounds like excuses."
"Sounds like you're scared."
"I am on pole."
"And yet you're worried about me from P8. That's embarrassing for you."
Max's mouth opened, then closed.
The chat was unbearable.
SHE ATE
MAX BUFFERING
AMYRA HAS HIM FIGHTING FOR HIS LIFE
"You are lucky this is not real life."
"Why?" Amyra asked sweetly. "Would you complain to the stewards faster?"
"Oh my god."
The countdown began.
"Okay," Max muttered. "Now we race."
Lights out.
He got a good launch. He led into turn one, defended the inside, and settled quickly into it. For the first few laps, he didn't even check where Amyra was.
He did not care. He absolutely did not care.
Then the timing tower updated.
Amyra1655: P5.
Max frowned. "How?"
Her mic lit up. "You miss me, lion boy?"
"I was enjoying the silence."
"Liar. You were looking for me."
"I was not looking."
"Max, you literally slowed down in sector three."
"I had traffic."
"You are traffic."
He gritted his teeth, but he was smiling despite himself, which annoyed him even more.
Lap six and Amyra was P3.
The chat was moving so quickly he couldn't read any of it.
Max focused ahead. He had a gap. Not huge, but enough.
Some automated sound had informed him that Amyra had set the fastest lap.
Max stared at the sector times. "No."
"Oh yes," Amyra said.
"I was not talking to you."
"You were thinking about me though."
"I promise you I was not."
"You promise a lot for someone checking my lap times."
Max took turn four slightly too aggressively and clipped the curb.
The car twitched and the chat went wild again.
SHE'S IN HIS HEAD
MENTAL WARFARE
MAX PLEASE STAY STRONG
He caught the car and exhaled through his nose. "Okay, Amyra."
"Oh, using my name now. Serious business."
"You want serious?"
"No, I want you to panic. It's funnier."
He laughed once. "You are so annoying."
"And yet here we are."
By lap ten, she was right behind him. P2..of course.
She didn't attack immediately. That was what made it worse. A reckless driver would've thrown it down the inside and prayed. Amyra waited. She sat close enough to pressure him, close enough to make him think, but not close enough to be stupid.
Max recognized it. He hated that he respected it.
"You are quiet," Amyra said.
"I am concentrating."
"On not losing?"
"On not falling asleep."
"You sound stressed."
"I sound normal."
"Do you even know what normal is?"
Max nearly missed his braking point because he laughed.
"Do you ever shut up?"
"No."
"Good to know."
"You asked."
"Unfortunately."
She pulled alongside him on the straight.
Max defended, but she stayed there. Wheel to wheel into the corner.
He gave her just enough space. She gave him just enough back.
For half a second, the whole thing felt less like two people fighting and more like they were speaking the same language at exactly the same time.
Then she edged ahead and Max immediately tucked into her slipstream.
"Oh no," she said. "Is this where you get emotional?"
"I am going to enjoy this overtake."
"You have to actually do it first."
He waited. One corner, two. She defended the inside, he switched back and she anticipated it.
He cursed under his breath.
The chat had become one giant wall of screaming.
Max attacked again on the next straight. She moved once, blocking the obvious line. He went wide, carried speed, tried to sweep around the outside.
For one beautiful second, he had it. Then she braked later, still made the corner and still kept the car within track limits.
Max stared. "No, no, no."
Amyra's mic lit. "Did you just get outbraked by a woman using a controller?"
Max froze.
A CONTROLLER????
NO WAY
MAX END STREAM
SHE SAID WITH A CONTROLLER I AM CRYING
MAX VERSTAPPEN YOU ARE FINISHED
Max blinked. "You are using a controller?"
Amyra sounded delighted. "Did I forget to mention that?"
"You are not using a controller."
"I am."
"No."
"Yes."
"You are lying."
"I can send a picture."
"Do not send a picture."
"Because it will hurt?"
"Because I do not care."
"You care so much."
Max wanted to argue, but honestly, he did care. He cared deeply. He cared in a way that was frankly embarrassing.
He chased her for the remaining laps with the intensity of a man seeking revenge. His braking got sharper. His exits cleaner. The gap closed, opened, closed again. Amyra stayed cool the entire time, making tiny corrections, defending without desperation.
Last lap and Max saw the chance. Amyra went a little deep into the second to last corner. Not much.
He cut underneath, got better traction, and pulled alongside her down the short run to the final turn.
"Don't do something stupid," she warned.
"I never do stupid things."
"That is the funniest thing you've said all night."
They were side by side and Max held his line. For one second, he thought he had it.
Then she edged ahead by practically nothing as they crossed the line.
P1: Amyra1655.
P2: MaxV3.
The silence on Max's stream was immediate.
Amyra inhaled. "Wow."
Max stared at the results screen. "Do not."
"Imagine being a four time F1 world champion-"
"Amyra."
"-with a full sim setup..."
"I swear to god."
"-and losing to a girl on a controller during winter break."
Max pushed his headset slightly off one ear and looked directly into his camera with dead eyes.
The chat was gone. Completely gone. Just a blur of laughing, crying, screaming, clown emojis, goat emojis, and people typing AMYRA1655 SUPREMACY in all caps.
Amyra wasn't done. "Good race though."
Max narrowed his eyes. "Do not patronize me."
"I'm being nice."
"You are being impossible."
"You bring that out in me."
He didn't have a comeback for that...which was annoying.
For the next few weeks, it only got worse. Amyra1655 became a permanent fixture in his winter.
He told himself it was coincidence...it was not. If he logged on and she wasn't there, he checked another lobby. If she beat him, he demanded another race. If he beat her, she said something ridiculous like, "Congratulations, you finally used your resources," and he immediately wanted to race again.
Their rivalry became a thing online.
Clips spread everywhere...Max scoffing at her insults. Amyra calling him "Mad Max" only when he was, in fact, mad. Him saying, "You have no racecraft," right after she outmaneuvered three cars. Her replying, "And yet you keep following me around like a lost golden retriever."
The internet loved it.
Max pretended not to notice...but he noticed everything.
One night, after she beat him again by two tenths, he leaned back in his chair and rubbed his face.
"Who even are you?" he asked.
Amyra hummed. "Someone faster than you."
"You always say that."
"And it's always true."
"It is not always true."
"It means you understood it and got annoyed, so actually it means everything."
Max stared at his monitor, lips pressed together. Then he laughed. He didn't mean to, it just happened.
"Wow, finally."
"What?"
"You laugh like once every nine business days. I was starting to worry."
Max rolled his eyes, but the smile stayed. "I laugh."
"At people crashing."
"Still counts."
"Barely."
For one weird second, neither of them said anything mean...and Max noticed the silence.
He noticed how late it was. How his soda had gone warm. How he had been planning to log off two hours ago but was still there because Amyra was there.
That annoyed him, too. So he cleared his throat and said, "One more race."
Amyra laughed. "You're obsessed with me."
"I am obsessed with winning."
"Same thing, lately."
"Join the lobby."
"Yes, sir."
Max's hand slipped slightly on the wheel.
The chat, unfortunately, noticed.
DID HE FREEZE
MAX?
MAX???
SIR GOT HIM
HE'S INTO THAT FREAKY TALK!!
Max coughed. "Do not call me that."
Amyra sounded way too pleased. "Noted."
"I mean it."
"Sure."
"I will mute you."
"You won't."
He didn't.
Then came the announcement from his private PR team.
There would major sim racing event in London. Big sponsors. Big stream. Real drivers, esports racers, creators, guests. Red Bull was involved, so Max had to go. He complained for two straight days, but privately, one thing made it almost tolerable.
Amyra1655 was on the invite list. Her username was there, sitting casually among professional racers and popular streamers.
Max read it three times.
Finally, he would know. Finally, he would put a face to the voice that had spent half of winter break ruining his peace.
He expected someone cocky. Maybe a professional driver from another category. Maybe a college student with terrifying reflexes and too much free time.
He did not expect what he got.
The event space was loud when he arrived. Bright screens, rigs lined up on a stage, cameras moving around, people with headsets and clipboards rushing from one place to another. Max walked in wearing a custom black red bull shirt and slacks, trying very hard to look like he was not scanning the room.
He shook hands, nodded at people.
Took a photo or ten and pretended to listen to someone explain the schedule while his eyes kept drifting toward the competitors' area.
"Max?"
He looked over.
The event coordinator smiled. "You'll be seated next to Amyra for the opening segment. You two have great chemistry online."
Max almost choked. "We do not have chemistry."
The coordinator laughed like he had made a joke...but Max was not joking.
Then he saw her.
She was standing near one of the rigs, arms crossed loosely, talking to someone from production. Long hair falling over her shoulders, tight black pants and a fitted white top. She looked calm.
She turned slightly and her eyes landed on him.
Max stopped walking. Because Amyra1655 was not a smug college girl.
She was a woman...a very pretty woman, nearly around his age. A very pretty woman who looked at Max, recognized him instantly, and did not look impressed even a little bit.
Instead, her mouth curved.
That same voice he had heard through his headset for weeks reached him from across the room. "Oh no."
Max stared.
She walked toward him, smiling like this was the funniest thing that had ever happened to her. "You're actually Max Verstappen."
For once, Max had absolutely nothing to say.
Amyra stopped in front of him, tilted her head, and looked him over, then she held out her hand.
"Amyra," she said, as if he didn't already know. "The girl with the controller."
Max looked at her hand, then at her face. Then, finally, he took it.
Her handshake was firm, but her smile was deadly.
And Max, still holding her hand a second longer than needed, had the horrifying realization that his winter break had just become a much bigger problem.
✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿
Max had spent the entire flight home from London trying to convince himself that meeting Amyra had changed absolutely nothing.
Nothing...not a single thing.
She was still annoying, still talked too much, still drove him insane. Still somehow managed to beat him in races while making fun of him at the same time.
The only difference now was that he knew what she looked like.
That was it...nothing else.
Definitely not the fact that he kept remembering her smile. Or how she'd looked completely unfazed by him being Max Verstappen.
Nope...didn't matter...t all.
Unfortunately, the universe seemed determined to test that theory.
Because exactly four days later, Red Bull called.
"Absolutely not."
His marketing manager sighed. "Max."
"No."
"Please listen first."
"I already know it's stupid."
"How?"
"Because you called me during my break."
There was silence, then another sigh.
"...we'd like you and Amyra to do a content series."
Max immediately sat up straighter. "What?"
"Fans love your dynamic."
"No they don't."
"Max."
"They love watching her annoy me."
"Exactly."
"That is not a good thing."
"It gets views."
Max pinched the bridge of his nose...of course it got views.
Every clip involving Amyra somehow exploded online. There were entire compilations now.
Amyra1655 bullying Max Verstappen for 12 minutes straight.
Max Verstappen losing arguments to Amyra.
Best Amyra and Max moments.
He hated every single one and definitely hadn't watched them...not even once.
Three days later he was sitting in a studio in Milton Keynes wondering where his life had gone wrong.
Amyra arrived fifteen minutes late.
"Look who it is."
Max groaned. "There she is."
"The loser."
"You won by half a tenth."
"A win is a win."
"You say that because you have very few of them."
Amyra gasped as the production crew immediately started laughing.
One of the camera operators whispered..."Oh this is going to be good."
It got worse, much worse.
The first challenge involved racing each other while answering trivia questions.
Amyra somehow managed to do both, but Max couldn't understand it.
"Which country has won the most Formula One championships?"
"United Kingdom."
"Correct."
"Can you stop answering so fast?" Max asked.
"No."
"You're distracting me."
Amyra grinned. "Sounds like a skill issue."
He nearly drove into a barrier.
The producers were crying laughing.
The second challenge was somehow worse.
Anonymous internet comments. A giant screen displayed random fan comments. They had to react, simple.
Or so Max thought.
The first few were normal, then one appeared.
JUST GET MARRIED ALREADY
Amyra laughed so hard she nearly slid off her chair.
"Oh my God."
The producer was wheezing.
Max stared at the screen, then at Amyra. For some reason...he wasn't finding it quite as funny.
"Relax," she managed.
"I'm relaxed."
"You look like you're about to file a complaint."
The producer pulled up another comment.
THEY ARGUE LIKE A MARRIED COUPLE
Amyra immediately pointed at the screen.
"See?"
"No."
"That's literally what this says."
"We do not."
"You absolutely do."
"We absolutely don't."
Amyra slowly turned toward the producer. "See?"
The producer nodded. "She's got a point."
Max wanted a time refund on the entire day.
The problem started after that, not immediately...slowly. Which was somehow worse.
Because at first it felt normal. Just messages, race invites, a few jokes...nothing weird.
Then somehow it became daily.
One night Max was testing setups and his phone buzzed.
Amyra.
you're using the wrong rear wing
Max frowned.
how would you know?
Three dots appeared instantly.
because i know everything
that isn't an answer
and yet it was accurate
He changed the setup...and she was right.
Another night he couldn't sleep because of jet lag. He was lying in bed scrolling aimlessly till 2:13 AM.
A notification appeared from Amyra.
are you awake
yes
why
couldn't sleep
same
Three dots...then...
want to race?
Max was already getting out of bed.
After that...it kept happening.
Late night calls, gaming sessions, texts, voice notes.
Sometimes they raced...sometimes they just talked. Their conversations became longer, more comfortable. Which honestly should've worried him.
One evening they were both waiting for delayed flights. Amyra was stuck in Scotland while Max was stuck in Barcelona.
They ended up on a video call for three hours talking about absolutely nothing.
Amyra was laughing about something when Max realized he hadn't checked the time once. Not once...and that realization felt dangerous. So naturally he ignored it.
Then came the problem, and his name was Ethan...or Evan...or something equally annoying.
Max wasn't paying attention. Because the actual issue wasn't the guy. The issue was Amyra mentioning him.
They were gaming and Amyra was talking.
"...and then Ethan told me-"
Max interrupted. "Who?"
"Ethan."
Silence.
"Okay."
Amyra frowned. "Okay?"
"Yeah."
"That's it?"
"What else?"
She squinted. "You're weird."
"I'm not weird."
"You sounded weird."
"I'm literally sitting here."
"Exactly."
The next time it happened was worse.
Because she mentioned grabbing coffee with Ethan and Max immediately lost concentration.
Crashed. straight into a wall.
Amyra burst out laughing. "No way."
Max removed one hand from the wheel. "I got distracted."
"You drove into a barrier."
"I made a mistake."
"Because I mentioned Ethan."
"No."
"Max."
"No."
"MAX."
He muted himself and Amyra called him out immediately.
The third time she mentioned Ethan was during a group stream.
And for some reason Max felt himself getting increasingly annoyed because the guy sounded perfect.
Amyra laughed at something Ethan had texted and suddenly Max was in a terrible mood.
The worst part? He didn't understand why...at least that's what he told himself.
The breaking point came two weeks later when they were in another online race.
The tension had been building for days, which Amyra noticed.
"Okay." Her voice came through the headset. "What's your problem?"
"No problem."
"Lie."
"Nope."
"You've been weird for two weeks."
"I'm normal."
"You're impossible."
Max said nothing and Amyra sighed.
"Is this about Ethan?"
The fact she asked immediately somehow made it worse.
"No."
"It is."
"No."
"It literally is."
Max gripped the wheel tighter.
"Max."
Nothing.
"Max."
Still nothing.
Then she sighed again.
"Fine."
The race continued, then Amyra spoke again...softer this time.
"Did I do something to upset you?"
And that...that hit differently. Because suddenly she sounded hurt.
Max's frustration boiled over, not because of her, because of himself. Because he couldn't figure out what was happening inside his own head.
"Go talk to Ethan..."
The words came out harsher than intended.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"No."
Her voice hardened. "What does that mean?"
Max knew he should stop...he didn't.
"If he's so great."
Silence.
"Oh."
Amyra's voice was ice cold now. "That's what this is."
Max immediately regretted everything. "Forget it."
"No."
"No, actually."
"Forget I asked."
"Amyra-"
"No."
For the first time since he'd met her...she sounded angry.
"You know what?" she said.
"If you have something to say, say it."
Max stared at the screen. Because the truth wasn't something he was ready to say...not even close.
Neither spoke for the rest of the race.
The next day there were no texts, then another...nothing.
A week of nothing turned into two weeks, then three...and Max hated it.
The racing wasn't fun anymore. The streams felt quieter, the jokes weren't there. The arguments weren't there.
Everything felt...off.
One night he sat down to stream. Not because he wanted to, because he was bored.
The chat immediately started asking questions.
Where's Amyra?
Did you guys fight?
Is Amyra joining?
Max ignored all of them as the race lobby loaded.
He barely looked at the participant list. Until...
His breath caught.
Amyra1655.
The chat exploded.
Max stared at the username, then waited. The little microphone icon stayed dark. No greeting, no joke, nothing.
For the first time since meeting her...he realized exactly what he'd been missing. Not the competition or the banter...just her.
And sitting there staring at a stupid username on a screen...
Max felt something that was a lot scarier than losing to her. Because he wasn't worried about getting beaten. He was worried she might not want him in her life anymore.
✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿
Max had not spoken to Amyra in twenty three days. Not properly, at least.
There had been no late night races. No stupid voice notes. No messages at 2AM telling him his setup was embarrassing. No random screenshots of her leaderboard position with a caption like, sleep well, loser.
Nothing.
At first, Max convinced himself it was fine. Actually, he convinced himself it was good.
His phone wasn't buzzing constantly. His streams weren't being hijacked by some woman with a controller and an attitude problem. His chat wasn't screaming about Amyra1655 every five seconds. He could race without hearing, "Careful, Max, your ego is showing," in his headset.
It should've been nice...but it was not nice.
It was awful. He hated how quiet everything felt.
He hated that every lobby looked wrong without her username in it. He hated that he'd open his messages without thinking, then immediately feel stupid when there was nothing there. He hated that whenever something mildly funny happened, his first thought was still that Amyra would have made an annoying comment about it.
The worst part was the racing. Max still won, obviously. He still streamed. Still showed up. Still did his usual thing.
But it wasn't the same.
There was no one pushing him just hard enough to make him sharper. No one baiting him into ridiculous arguments mid race. No one calling him 'Dutch traffic' when he defended too aggressively.
And Max was not dramatic. He refused to be dramatic. But there was something deeply humiliating about realizing he missed being insulted by her.
He'd almost messaged her a dozen times...almost.
He would open the chat, stare at the empty message box, type something painfully stupid like, racing tonight? and then delete it.
Because what was he supposed to say?
Sorry I acted like a jealous idiot because you mentioned some guy named Ethan and I apparently lost control of my entire personality?
No. Absolutely not.
He would rather drive into a wall...again.
So he said nothing. Amyra said nothing. And the silence stretched until it became something heavy and ugly sitting between them.
By the time an actual race weekend in Silverstone came, Max had almost convinced himself he was over it...almost.
Then he walked into the Red Bull motorhome on Thursday morning and heard someone from marketing say her name.
He stopped dead. "What?"
The woman with the clipboard looked up. "Sorry?"
"What did you say?"
She blinked, clearly confused by how aggressively he'd appeared out of nowhere. "Amyra? The popular streaming gamer...she's arriving this afternoon."
Max stared at her. "Amyra."
"Yes. The sim racer from the winter content series?"
"I know who she is."
"Red Bull invited her for Silverstone. The fan response to your content together was huge, so she's here for some paddock filming, livestream bits, hospitality appearances. Nothing too intense."
Nothing too intense...Max nearly laughed. Because nothing about Amyra had ever been 'not too intense.'
"When was this decided?" he asked.
"A couple weeks ago."
A couple weeks ago. So Red Bull had known Amyra would be at Silverstone for weeks, and nobody had mentioned it to him.
Great. Amazing. Perfect.
Max nodded once, turned around, and walked straight back out. He made it all the way to his driver room before shutting the door and standing there like an idiot.
Amyra was coming to Silverstone. Amyra, who hadn't spoken to him in twenty three days. Amyra, who he had last heard go cold and quiet after he snapped at her. Amyra, who he missed so badly it had started to annoy him on a cellular level.
He dragged a hand over his face.
"Fucking fantastic," he muttered to himself. "Very normal."
It got worse that afternoon...because he didn't even get a warning.
He was walking through the paddock with his hat low, half listening to someone from the team talk about filming times, when the noise shifted.
A few people turned their heads. Someone laughed. A Red Bull media girl waved excitedly toward the entrance.
Max looked over before he could stop himself and there she was.
Amyra.
For a second, his brain simply refused to cooperate. She looked gorgeous, so gorgeous that it actually irritated him.
She was wearing dark jeans that fit her perfectly, black boots, and a cropped Red Bull jacket over a white top. Her hair was down, moving slightly in the wind, and there were sunglasses resting on her head like she had just casually walked in and ruined his life without even trying.
She was smiling at someone from the team, not at him.
That made something tighten in his chest. Stupid, so stupid.
He stood there like a total idiot, watching her hug one of the content producers.
Then Amyra turned and her eyes found him. The smile faded, just a little. Not fully, but just enough that he saw the wall go up.
Amyra was the first to break eye contact. She turned back to the producer and said something Max couldn't hear, then she walked away.
Max's jaw tightened.
"Mate," Isack's voice appeared beside him, far too cheerful.
Max didn't look at him. "Don't."
"I didn't say anything."
"You were going to."
Daniel looked toward Amyra, then back at Max. His grin widened. "Oh, I was definitely going to."
Max walked away, but Isack followed because he had no survival instinct.
"So that's Amyra."
"No."
"No?"
"No talking."
"I can see why you've been so emotionally unwell."
Max stopped walking and looked at him.
Daniel held up both hands. "Respectfully."
"Go away."
"Gladly. But before I do, you should probably fix whatever that was."
"There is nothing to fix."
Isack gave him a look.
Max hated that look. It was the same look people gave him when they knew he was lying and were enjoying it way too much.
"Sure," Daniel said, then he left.
The weekend became torture after that...because Amyra was everywhere.
In hospitality, talking to Red Bull guests like she hadn't spent weeks ruining Max's peace. In the garage, watching FP1 from the back with a headset on, arms crossed, focused in a way that made him remember exactly why she'd been so dangerous online. At the sim setup for a content segment, laughing with some reserve driver who clearly thought she was the coolest person on earth.
Max noticed all of it...every smile, every laugh, every time she didn't look at him. And Amyra knew he noticed, that was the worst part.
Because she wasn't avoiding him completely. That would've been easier. She was polite and polite Amyra was evil.
"Good luck this weekend," she said when they passed each other Friday morning.
Max slowed slightly. "That's it?"
She raised an eyebrow. "Was I supposed to insult you?"
"Yes."
Her mouth twitched. For one second, there she was...his Amyra, then the shutters came back down.
"Don't worry," she said. "I'm sure you'll find someone else to bully you for free."
And she walked off while Max stood there, annoyed by how much that hurt.
Later, Red Bull forced them into a short livestream together...because of course they did. They sat side by side in front of a sim rig while the chat lost its mind.
AMYRA AND MAX BACK TOGETHER???
MOM AND DAD STOP FIGHTING
THE TENSION IS DISGUSTING
WHY ARE THEY SITTING SO FAR APART LMAO
Amyra looked at the comments and smiled sweetly. "Your fans are dramatic."
Max didn't look at her. "They're your fans now."
"I know. They have taste."
"You still use a controller."
"And you still bring it up because it hurt your feelings."
The crew behind the camera laughed.
Max looked at her then..big mistake. She was smiling, but not fully. It didn't reach her eyes the way it used to and he hated that too.
They raced one lap against each other for the stream. Amyra was quick. Still annoying. Still brave in the corners. Max beat her by a tenth.
The chat lost it.
Amyra leaned back in her chair and sighed dramatically. "Wow. Congratulations."
Max frowned. "Why do you sound like that?"
"Like what?"
"Like you're lying."
"I am lying."
The producer laughed, but Max didn't. Usually he would've said something back. Usually she would've kept going. Usually they would've been five insults deep by now, both pretending they weren't having the time of their lives.
Instead, the moment sat there awkwardly.
Amyra stood once the cameras cut. "Good race," she said.
Max caught her wrist before thinking. Not hard, just enough to stop her.
She looked down at his hand, then up at him.
Max let go. "Sorry."
Amyra nodded once. "It's fine."
It was not fine.
That night, Red Bull hosted a private dinner near the staff hotel. Nothing wild. Just team people, guests, sponsors, a few drivers and friends. Max almost didn't go, then hated himself for considering not going just because Amyra would be there.
So he went and immediately regretted it. Because Amyra was there, and apparently so was Ethan.
Max knew it was him before anyone told him. Maybe because of the way Ethan hugged her when he arrived. Maybe because Amyra smiled when she saw him. Maybe because Max's mood dropped so violently that even Isack looked at him like he'd become unsafe to sit near.
Ethan was tall. Annoyingly normal looking. Nice smile.
Max hated him instantly, not in a reasonable way. In a childish, embarrassing, deeply personal way.
Amyra and Ethan stood near the bar, talking easily. Ethan said something and Amyra laughed.
Max stared down at his drink. He could hear Amyra's laugh from across the room...of course he could. Because apparently his brain was now trained like a dog.
"Are you going to glare holes into him all night?" Isack asked.
Max didn't blink. "I'm not glaring."
"You look like you're trying to make his organs fail."
"He is annoying."
"You've never spoken to him."
"I can tell."
"You're doing great. Super normal."
Max turned away.
He lasted another twelve minutes. Twelve whole minutes of watching Ethan touch Amyra's elbow when he laughed. Watching Amyra lean in to hear him over the music. Watching her look relaxed in a way she hadn't looked around Max all weekend.
Then Ethan said something close to her ear, and Amyra smiled.
Max put his drink down and across the room, Amyra looked up.
Their eyes met, she knew...of course she knew. Amyra's smile slowly faded.
Then, without a word to Ethan, she stepped away from the bar and headed toward the corridor leading out to the quieter balcony area.
Max followed..he knew he was following. He knew it was obvious, but he did it anyway.
The balcony was mostly empty, tucked away from the dinner. Amyra walked to the railing and stopped, arms folded tightly like she was trying to hold herself together.
Max shut the door behind him, then Amyra turned around.
"Say it."
Max's jaw flexed. "Say what?"
"No." She shook her head, already angry. "Don't do that. Don't follow me out here, don't stare at me all night like I did something wrong, and then act like you have no idea what I'm talking about."
Max looked away, which only made her angrier.
"Look at me."
He did...bad idea. Her eyes were bright, furious, hurt. All of it.
"What do you want from me, Max?"
He hated how tired she sounded.
"I don't know."
"That's the problem. You never know, but somehow I'm the one who gets punished for it."
"I didn't punish you."
"You stopped talking to me."
"You stopped talking too."
"Because you were horrible to me."
Max went quiet.
"I mentioned Ethan and you acted like I had betrayed you. I asked if I did something wrong and you threw him in my face like I was supposed to understand what the hell was going on in your head."
Max swallowed hard because she wasn't wrong...that was the worst part.
She was angry and right.
"I didn't know what to say," he admitted.
Amyra stared at him. "You could've started with the truth."
"The truth is not always easy."
"No, Max. The truth is actually very easy. You just have to stop being stubborn long enough to say it."
He looked at her then, really looked at her, and every stupid excuse he had been clinging to fell apart.
Because there she was. Angry. Gorgeous. Hurt because of him...and he was tired.
Tired of pretending he didn't miss her. Tired of pretending Ethan didn't bother him. Tired of pretending he didn't wait for her name to pop up on his phone like some lovesick idiot.
Amyra held his stare.
"Either tell me what this is," she said quietly, "or leave me alone. I mean it this time."
That did it. The thought of leaving her alone, properly, for good, made panic flash through him so fast it almost pissed him off.
Max took one step closer. "Fine."
Amyra's breath caught slightly.
"I was jealous."
Amyra paused. For once, she didn't have a comeback ready.
Max kept going before he could lose his nerve.
"I hated hearing you talk about him. I hated that you laughed at his messages. I hated that when you said you were getting coffee with him, I cared so much I crashed into a wall like an idiot."
Her lips parted slightly.
"And then I hated myself for caring," he said, voice lower now. "Because I had no right to care. You were not mine. You could talk to whoever you wanted. You still can."
Amyra didn't move.
"But I didn't want you to."
The air changed. The anger was still there, but now something else moved underneath it. Something hotter. More dangerous.
Max stepped closer again.
"I wanted your messages. I wanted your calls. I wanted you in my races, annoying me until I couldn't think straight. I wanted you next to me in those stupid content videos. I wanted you laughing at me, even when it drove me crazy."
Amyra's voice came out softer. "Max..."
"No." He shook his head. "You told me to say it, so I am saying it."
Max looked at her like he was done hiding. "I like you."
The sentence was simple.
"I like you so much it has made me act insane for weeks," he said. "I missed you so badly that sim racing got boring. Do you know how annoying that is?"
Amyra's mouth twitched, there she was...just a little.
Max saw it and nearly lost his mind.
"And when I saw you today...I was angry."
"Because I was here?"
"No. Because you looked beautiful and you didn't even look happy to see me."
Amyra's expression softened, but only slightly. "I wasn't sure I was allowed to be happy to see you."
That hit him directly in the chest.
Max shook his head. "You are."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
"Because you're very difficult."
"I know."
"And emotionally confusing."
"I have been told."
"And jealous."
His eyes narrowed slightly. "Careful."
Amyra's smile came back properly this time, small but real. "There he is."
Max took another step, and now there was barely any space left between them.
"Ethan is not my boyfriend," she said.
"I know that now."
"He's my friend."
"I know."
"He's also dating my cousin."
Max froze and Amyra watched the realization hit him.
Then she smiled wider.
Max closed his eyes. "No."
"Yes."
"Your cousin."
"My cousin."
He opened his eyes, and the look on his face made her laugh for the first time in weeks. God, he had missed that sound.
"You were jealous of my cousin's boyfriend," she said.
"Do not say it like that."
"How else should I say it?"
"Not at all."
Amyra laughed again, and Max couldn't help it. He smiled too, even though he was still embarrassed enough to walk into traffic.
"You could have told me," he muttered.
"You could have asked like a normal person."
"I am not normal."
"I noticed."
"You really missed me?"
Max's face softened before he could stop it. "Yes."
"Even my trash talk?"
"Especially your trash talk."
"Even when I called you Dutch traffic?"
"No."
She grinned.
He leaned closer. "Maybe."
Amyra's eyes dropped to his lips. It was quick, barely anything...but Max saw it and his entire body went still.
Amyra seemed to realize what she had done at the exact same time. Her smile fell, not because she was scared. Because the mood shifted too fast to ignore.
Max's voice was low when he said, "Do you like me?"
Amyra looked back up. There was the Amyra he knew. Stubborn..not giving him anything too easily.
"I thought that was obvious."
"I want to hear it."
Her lips parted, but no words came out.
Max's eyes darkened slightly. "Say it."
Amyra stared at him and the challenge sat between them.
"I like you."
Max's jaw tightened. "Again."
Her heart started racing. "Max."
"Again, sweetheart."
Her cheeks blushed, but she didn't look away. "I like you."
His eyes dropped to her lips now, and this time he didn't bother hiding it.
"Good."
The word was so simple and so loaded that Amyra forgot how to breathe for a second.
Then Max reached for her. Just his hand sliding to her waist, pulling her in like he had been waiting weeks to do it and was done being patient.
Amyra's hands landed against his chest. For a second they just stood there, close enough to feel each other breathing.
Then she whispered, "You are so annoying."
Max's mouth curved. "You missed me."
"I did."
Max leaned in slowly, giving her plenty of time to move away, but Amyra didn't. When he kissed her, it felt like the argument continued in a different language.
Still stubborn...still heated...still them.
She kissed him back immediately, fingers curling into the front of his shirt, and Max made a low sound in his throat that sent heat straight through her. His hand tightened at her waist, pulling her closer, and she smiled against his mouth because of course Max kissed like he raced...focused, committed, and completely unwilling to lose.
He pulled back just enough to breathe and Amyra blinked up at him, dazed for half a second.
Then she whispered, "You really crashed because of Ethan?"
Max groaned. "Do you want me to leave?"
"No."
"Then stop talking about him."
She laughed. "Jealous."
"Yes..."
Her smile faded slightly, but Max didn't look away.
"I am jealous because it's you."
Amyra touched his face, thumb brushing lightly along his jaw. "You don't have to be."
Max's hand covered hers. "I know."
"Do you?"
"I am learning."
"Slowly."
He kissed her again, shorter this time, but no less intense. When he pulled away, his forehead rested briefly against hers.
The balcony door opened a crack, then closed again immediately when whoever it was realized the space was very much occupied.
Amyra's cheeks turned red and Max didn't even look embarrassed...of course he didn't.
Instead, he took her hand. "Come on."
"Where?"
He didn't answer right away. He led her back inside, but not toward the dinner. They slipped through the side corridor toward the hotel elevator attached to the venue.
Amyra followed, heart racing, hand still locked in his. When the elevator doors opened, Max stepped inside and pulled her with him.
The doors closed, then Amyra looked at him. "So are we done fighting?"
Max's eyes flicked to hers. "For tonight."
She laughed. "For tonight?"
"You will annoy me again tomorrow."
"Probably."
"I will still like you."
Amyra's smile softened.
Max's thumb moved slowly over her knuckles, and somehow that felt more dangerous than the kiss.
When the doors opened on the upper floor, he led her down the quiet hallway. At his door, he stopped. For a second, the old tension came back, but this time it wasn't angry...it was anticipation.
Max turned to face her. "You can still walk away," he said quietly.
Amyra's heart squeezed. She stepped closer, sliding her hand up his chest. "I don't want to."
Max's expression changed, that was all it took. The last bit of patience in him snapped.
He unlocked the door, pushed it open, and looked down at her with a dark, possessive kind of certainty that made her stomach flip.
"Inside...now."
Amyra's excitement sparked so fast she forgot every sarcastic response she had ever learned...so she smiled instead, then she stepped inside with him.
The door clicked shut and Max's hands were on her shoulders, turning her, and her back hit the door before she'd finished turning.
He caged her in with both arms, palms flat against the wood on either side of her head. He didn't touch her. Didn't kiss her. His eyes were doing that thing again, tracking over her face like he was memorizing it.
"Tell me you want this." His voice had gone rough at the edges. "I need to hear it."
He was asking. He was dominant, certain and already breathing harder than he had been thirty seconds ago, but he was asking.
"Yes." She didn't recognize her own voice. "I want this."
"Good." His eyes flicked to her lips again. "If you want me to stop, you say stop. If something is too much, you tell me. Understand?"
"Yes."
"Understand?"
She swallowed. "Yes. I understand."
"Good girl."
The praise landed hard. Amyra felt her knees actually go weak, the thing that happened in romance novels that she'd always assumed was exaggerated. It wasn't exaggerated. Her spine wanted to melt. Heat pooled low in her belly and her breath caught somewhere in her throat.
Max noticed. "You like that." Not a question.
She didn't bother denying it. "Yeah."
"Good to know." He pushed off the door and stepped back, giving her space, but his eyes stayed fixed on her. "Take off your dress for me, sweetheart."
Amyra reached for the zipper at her side and pulled it down. The dress fell and pooled at her feet.
She stood in black underwear and nothing else...no bra, because the dress had a built in thing and she'd figured, screw it, no one's going to see anyway.
Max's expression shifted. Something flickered behind the control...a crack in the certainty. His eyes moved from her collarbones to the swell of her breasts to the dip of her waist to the curve of her hips. He was savoring in her beauty.
"You're beautiful." His voice had gone quiet. "Do you know that?"
"I've been told."
"Not the same." He stepped closer again, one hand coming up to brush her hair back from her shoulder. His fingers barely grazed her skin. "I'm not telling you because I want something from you. I'm telling you because it's true. You're so fucking beautiful, Amyra."
The way he said her name. Like it mattered, like she mattered.
Her breath shuddered out of her. "Max-"
"Turn around for me."
She did. Faced the door, her palms finding the wood, her forehead nearly resting against it. Behind her, she heard him move. Felt him drop to his knees...
Then his hands were on her hips, fingers hooking into the waistband of her thong, and he pulled them down. The fabric slid over her thighs, her calves, and she stepped out of them automatically.
"Spread your legs."
She did. Shifted her feet wider, feeling the cool air of the room against the slick heat between her thighs. The exposure made her stomach clench...she was bent forward slightly, bracing against the wall, and he was behind her, on his knees, and she was completely bare and completely visible.
"Good." His palm flattened against the small of her back, pressing just enough to make her arch. "Stay like that for me."
And then his mouth was on her aching pussy.
Amyra's forehead hit the wall with a thud. His tongue...fuck, his tongue...tracing a slow, wet line from her clit to her entrance and back again, like he was learning the shape of her. Her hips jerked involuntarily and his hand tightened on her back, holding her steady.
"Max, oh god!"
He didn't answer. Just did it again. And again. Each stroke slightly different...firmer here, softer there, a flick of pressure that made her gasp, a slow drag that made her thighs shake. He was methodical. Of course he was methodical. He was entirely focused on her, on what made her moan, on what made her hips press back against his face.
She was already making sounds she didn't recognize. Little broken gasps that escaped every time his tongue found her clit. Her fingers curled against the wall, nails scraping uselessly at the wood.
"You taste-" He pulled back just long enough to speak, his breath hot against her wet skin. "You taste incredible."
Then his tongue pushed inside her and her vision went white at the edges.
He ate her like he had something to prove. Slow, deep strokes that made her feel full and empty in alternating waves. His nose pressed against her from behind, his jaw working, and one of his hands left her hip to slide between her legs from the front, finding her clit with his thumb while his tongue worked deeper.
Amyra made a sound that wasn't a word. Couldn't have been a word. Words required brain function and her brain had vacated the premises somewhere around the third stroke of his tongue.
"Let me hear you." His voice was muffled against her. "I want to hear every sound you make."
She couldn't have held back if she'd tried. The moans came out of her in a rhythm that matched his tongue...short and sharp when he flicked, long and low when he dragged. Her hips were moving now, grinding back against his face, and he let her, encouraged it, his hand on her back pressing harder to keep her arched.
"You're being so good for me." The words vibrated against her clit. "So responsive. So perfect."
The praise hit her like another stroke of his tongue. Her thighs shook. Her breath came in short, sharp bursts. Something was building low in her belly...a pressure that made her toes curl against the floor.
"I'm-" She couldn't finish the sentence.
"I know." His thumb circled her clit faster as his tongue pushed deeper into her. "Cum for me. Let me feel it."
Amyra's orgasm ripped through her without warning...one second she was hovering on the edge, the next she was gone, crying out something that might have been his name, might have been nothing at all. Her body convulsed against the wall and her hips bucked. Max didn't stop...he kept his mouth on her through every pulse, every shake, until she was gasping and oversensitive and trying to pull away.
Only then did he ease back, pressing a kiss to the back of her thigh as he stood up.
Amyra stayed where she was, forehead against the wall, chest heaving. Her legs felt like they'd been replaced with something jelly. Somewhere behind her, she heard the rustle of clothing...his clothing, she realized. He was undressing. The thought sent another pulse of heat through her even though she'd just cum.
"Turn around for me."
She did. Slowly. Her body felt heavy and electric at the same time.
Max had stripped down to nothing. And he was...big.
That was the first word her brain supplied. Not just tall, which she'd known...but thick thighs, built shoulders and chest and arms that came from actual physical labor, from steering wheels and training regimens and a life that demanded more than just sitting in a sim rig. The line of his body was efficient. Just muscle where it needed to be, and between his legs, thick and already hard and curving up, was his cock.
He'd already put on a condom. She hadn't even heard him open the wrapper. "Come here."
She walked to him on legs that still felt unsteady. Stopped when she was close enough to feel the heat radiating off his skin.
His hand came up to cup her jaw. Thumb tracing over her cheekbone with a gentleness that contrasted sharply with the command in his voice. "You did so well. That was beautiful." His thumb slid lower, brushing across her lower lip. "You're beautiful."
She was dripping again already, just from his voice. Just from the way he looked at her like she was something ready to ruin, yet his at the same time.
"On the bed, on your back."
She moved. Climbed onto the mattressand lay back. Max followed, crawling over her, but instead of settling between her legs, he sat back on his heels and looked at her.
"Open your legs."
She did.
"Wider."
She spread them further. The stretch pulled at her inner thighs, made her feel open and exposed in a way that would have been uncomfortable if not for the way he was looking at her...like she was the most incredible thing he'd ever seen laid out on his bed.
"Wider."
She couldn't go much further. Her knees were nearly touching the mattress on either side. The position made her acutely aware of her own wetness, the way her body was still pulsing from the first orgasm, the way her clit was still sensitive and swollen.
Max made a sound low in his throat. His hand reached out, fingers tracing from her knee down the inside of her thigh, light enough to make her shiver.
"You have no idea how hot you look right now." His fingers crept higher. Brushed the crease of her hip. Skirted around where she actually wanted them. "Spread open for me, wet for me. Your body is-" He paused, searching for the word. "Perfect."
His middle finger slid through her folds. Barely any pressure. Just enough to make her gasp.
"So wet." The words were almost reverent. "You're so wet for me."
"Yes, all for you."
His finger circled her entrance, teasing. Barely dipping in before pulling back. "Tell me what you want."
Her hips lifted, chasing his touch. "You."
"You have me." Another slow circle. Another near penetration that didn't quite get there. "Be specific."
"Max." His name came out like a plea.
"Specific."
"I want you inside me." The words tumbled out. "I want your cock. Please. I need you-"
His finger pushed inside her. One knuckle, then two. Not fast, but low enough that she felt every inch of the stretch, every ridge of his knuckle, every place her body had to make room for him.
"Good girl." He pulled out and pushed back in with two fingers this time, scissoring them slightly, stretching her. "You ask so nicely."
Her hips bucked. Her hands fisted in the sheets. He was so intentional, so controlled, and it was driving her insane.
"I love how responsive you are." Another finger. Three now, stretching her wider, and she could feel how tight she was around him, how much thicker his cock was going to be. "I love the sounds you make. I love how wet you get when I praise you."
She moaned...she couldn't help it...and his fingers curled inside her, finding a spot that made her back arch off the bed.
"There." He pressed again, watching her face. "Right there. You're squeezing my fingers so tight. You're going to feel incredible around my cock."
"Then-" She could barely form words. "Then do it. Please."
His fingers slid out. Left her empty and aching. She watched him position himself between her spread thighs, the head of his cock brushing against her soaked pussy, and her whole body clenched in anticipation.
"Look at me."
Her eyes snapped to his face.
"I want you to watch." He pressed forward just slightly...barely the tip, stretching her wider than his fingers had. "I want you to see who's inside you and making you feel so good."
And then he pushed. The stretch was intense. More than intense. Deeper than his fingers, thicker, and he didn't stop. Just kept pressing forward, inch by inch, until he was fully deep inside her and she couldn't remember how to breathe.
Her eyes rolled back. She couldn't help it. Her body was so full, so stretched, so completely filled by him that her body didn't know what to do aside from short circuit.
"Eyes on me." His voice was strained now...the first crack in his control. "Amyra. Eyes on me."
She forced her gaze back to his face. His jaw was clenched. A vein stood out on his forehead. He was holding himself still inside her, letting her adjust, but she could see what the effort was costing him.
"You feel-" He stopped. Swallowed, and started again. "You feel incredible. So tight. So hot. So perfect."
She clenched around him involuntarily and his eyes nearly crossed.
"Don't-" His hands tightened on her thighs, spreading her even wider. "If you do that, I'm not going to last long."
"Then move."
Max did. The first thrust was deep and slow and pulled a sound from her that she'd never made before in her life...something guttural and desperate and completely beyond her control. His cock dragged along every sensitive place inside her, filling her completely, and when he pulled back and thrust again, harder, she saw stars.
"That's it." His rhythm picked up, still controlled but faster now, deeper. Each stroke pushed a moan out of her that she couldn't have held back. "Let me hear you. Let everyone hear you. I don't care."
Amyra was beyond words, beyond thought. Her world had narrowed to the stretch of her thighs, the fullness between her legs, the slap of his hips against hers, the sounds he was making...low grunts that she felt in her chest.
"You're taking me so well." His thumb found her clit, circling in time with his thrusts. "So deep. You're so-" His breath hitched. "So good...my good girl."
She was going to cum again. She could feel it building...faster this time, sharper, climbing up her spine and spreading through her body. Her moans turned high and broken. Her hips bucked to meet his thrusts without any conscious direction from her brain.
"Are you close?" His thumb pressed harder. Faster. "Tell me."
"Yes...Max, yes!"
"Look at me when you cum around my cock."
Her eyes found his.
"I want to see it. I want to watch you fall apart on my cock."
The words pushed her over. Orgasm hit her like a wall...merciless and total. Her vision whited out even though she was still looking at him. Her body clamped down around his cock in rhythmic pulses that she couldn't control.
She was still convulsing when his control broke.
He thrust deep...once, twice...and then buried himself to the hilt with a sound that was almost a whimper. She felt the pulse of his release through the condom, felt his body shake over hers, felt his forehead drop to her shoulder as he rode out the last waves.
His breath was hot and ragged against her collarbone. Her legs were still spread wide around his hips, trembling faintly from the strain. Her heart was pounding so hard she could feel it in her teeth.
Then Max lifted his head. Looked at her with eyes that were still slightly unfocused.
And said..."You're staying."
Not a question.
Amyra swallowed. Her voice came out wrecked. "I have a flight tomorrow."
"Cancel it."
"Max-"
His hand slid up her ribcage, over her breast, to cup her throat. Not choking, just holding. His thumb traced her pulse point...still racing.
"I said." He bent his head, lips brushing the shell of her ear. "You're staying."
Below them, the dinner was still going. But up here, in this room, with Max still inside her and his hand around her throat, Amyra realized she'd already made her decision.
The question wasn't whether she'd stay tonight...the question was whether she'd ever be able to leave...or if she even wanted to.
𝐀𝐫𝐲'𝐬 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 🍒 pisces ❤︎ empath ❤︎ eldest daughter core ❝𝗵𝗼𝘁 𝗴𝗶𝗿𝗹𝘀 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝗳𝗮𝘀𝘁 𝗰𝗮𝗿𝘀❞ 𝐎𝐧𝐠�...
seeing russtappen fics from before their divorce is such a gem to stumble upon when i’m searching through tags on ao3. like they were really just coworkers back then, huh? lol i’d be getting hella validation if i sensed their potential all the way back in 2022 or even 2023.
my sister the verstappie
