The Champion (Racing on the Edge) (34 page)

So there Jameson and Tommy were drinking one beer right
after another and then peeing in the balloons. Around one that morning they had
enough for their war against Spencer.

Only problem was Spencer caught onto them peeing into the
balloons and decided he was going to one up them and sprayed them with WD-40.
If you’ve never seen what this does to balloons, it’s entertaining. The
chemicals eat through the balloon in about five seconds.

Spencer, his intelligence soaring that night, enlisted
Logan, who refused to go to sleep, into sitting behind Jameson and Tommy and
spraying the balloons with WD-40 before they launched them at Spencer. Needless
to say they exploded mid-air all over them.

“Abort mission!” Tommy hollered in complete horror soaked
with his own urine. He looked at Jameson. “I’d be okay if it was my own piss, I
do that at least once a month but yours…” he shivered. “I can’t handle that. I
can’t.”

Jameson, who was hiding behind me for cover, looked
around, tipped his baseball cap up and grinned. “Oh Tommy, it’s just my urine.
I’m clean.”

Tommy, who had dodged under a canvas camping chair,
glared and ran after him.

“C’mere asshole, I’m gonna piss on you and see how you
like it!”

Jameson shot out into the woods to avoid him with Tommy
following.

After making sure the kids were still sleeping, I sat
down next to Ami.

“I have bets that one of them ends the night with a
broken bone or stitches.”

“For sure,” Ami cracked another beer and handed me one. I
took it since I’d pumped enough for Casten the last few days and I figured I
could have one free night.

We could hear the boys in the distance all yelling
obscenities at each other; Jameson’s laughter, Spencer’s laughter and then
finally Justin and Tommy squealing like little girls quickly followed by
Jameson and Spencer screaming.

Once I started drinking that night, I couldn’t tell you
with accuracy what actually happened but it was one of those nights I didn’t
care. It was nice to just be a kid again.

Any time once of us thought we’d woken up the kids, we
start giggling like a bunch of girls at a slumber party and saying ‘shhhh’ on
repeat.

Around four, we were still going strong when we heard
movement near the tents. Jameson practically jumped onto my lap.

“Do you think it’s a cougar?” he asked pulling his
baseball cap down to hide his panicked expression from the others.

“No,” I pushed him off. “And if it was I’d feed you to
him.”

He laughed remembering those words from our honeymoon.
Everyone else looked at us curiously. Apparently, to Jameson and me, it was the
funniest thing we’d ever said to each other and we both laughed uncontrollably.
It was probably the alcohol.

All our laughing woke up Jimi.

Emerging with a grunt from his tent, Jimi looked around
the campsite and shook his head with a smirk. His hand rose to scratch the top
of his head. “I don’t even want to know how this happened.”

Tommy, who’d passed out by the fire, groaned and sat up.
After looking around for a moment, he laid back down and asked. “Is the room
still spinning?”

Jimi kicked a few bottles out of the way and made his way
back to his tent muttering something about his grandkids being more mature than
their parents.

Ryder stood, brushing aside the crumbs of the two bags of
chips he’d eaten and walked over to Tommy and looked closer at his face.

He stared at him for a moment before turning to all of us.
“His eyebrows are gone!”

“No shit?” Justin perked up. “They just grew back from
the incident at Dog Hollow.”

“Yep.” Ryder looked closer. “They’re gone.”

“Fuck yeah.” Jameson pumped his fists in there air. “He
deserves that.”

Ami felt the need to remind Jameson that Tommy was the
one who was peed on tonight.

“That’s not really the point.” Jameson said reaching for
another beer and a bag of barbeque chips.

 “Not the point my ass. She made a perfectly good
point.” I reminded him only to have Jameson glare.

He stopped when I took his hand and rested it on my bare
knee.

“Now let’s go see about a tree I saw out there.” I winked
at him just to get
my
point across.

“A tree? Why in the world would you want to see a tree?”
Spencer asked and then caught on. “Oh, right.”

Alley quirked an eyebrow at her husband. “Sometimes I
wonder how you get through the day.”

“That’s rude.” Spencer actually looked offended. “I’m
perfectly capable of getting through the day.”

“Yeah,” Alley rolled her eyes when Jameson and I stood.
“sure.”

On the way into the woods, I asked him if he thought we
were getting too old for this sort of thing.

When he didn’t respond, I turned to see him leaning
against a tree, his arms crossed over his chest.

I was drunk but despite this, I took a moment to look
over my husband. His hair was crazy, gray t-shirt soaked with the beer Ryder
dumped on him earlier and his brown cargo shorts were weathered and worn from
being his favorite pair for the last two years.

My eyes went lower to see that he wasn’t wearing any
shoes.

I laughed. “Where are your shoes?”

He shrugged and offered that smirk I loved so much.

Slowly, he pushed himself from the tree and came to stand
within inches of me. His eyes traveled south again and landed on my shorts as
he fumbled for a moment with the button. He was trying to remain sexy about
this but he was so drunk that every time he tried to keep a sexy mysterious
look to him he’d smile and we’d both start laughing.

Holding back his laughter, he began to drag my panties
slowly down my legs.

Pinned against the tree by his hips, I was determined to
make this last longer than I knew it would. Pushing back against him, my hands
found his shorts. My fingers got the button undone when I felt his stare again.
He watched each movement as I slowly let the camshaft out.

He smiled. I smiled.

“He’s missed you.” He breathed bringing my lips back to
his.

Kissing Jameson was like ice cream for me on a hot summer
day, hell, any day. I couldn’t get enough of him or ice cream.

Jameson seemed frustrated he couldn’t get my shirt off
fast enough so I once again pushed him back to assist with the pit stop.

Helping him out, I pulled my shirt over my head instantly
regretting the cool night air as it provided quite the reaction to the funbags.
It had been a while since they’d been out to play after having kids. So many
times I had to keep my bra on just because it wasn’t worth the effort of having
to constantly tell Jameson to stop trying to get his mouth around them.

I looked up at Jameson watching as his eyes. He only
stared, his laughter suppressed, with silent words and it only made me want to
scream. I wanted to know what he was thinking and to hear him say dirty engine
words to me but no, he just stared with that smirk and warm eyes that spoke for
him.

All laughter aside, he wanted me.

He reached out tentatively and touched the side of my
face holding my jaw in the palm of his hand. Moving closer, his lips rested
behind my ear and he whispered.

“Are you gonna fuck me or just stand there and stare?”

I attacked him like a cougar and he couldn’t stop
laughing at me. We ended up somewhere against a tree and then the ground and
then back to the tree. We were both laughing, clinging to each other and making
the best of our time alone even though our friends and family were making
animal sounds not more than thirty feet away.

My legs wrapped around his waist using his shoulders as
leverage. He moved me the way he wanted.

While I enjoyed this, the only problem was that, as with
Dayton Peak and the pit lizard days, my ass was scrapping against the grain of
the bark and giving me splinters. I wasn’t sure if my cries of pleasure were
from the bark itching, all my bug bites or from Jameson. Either way, it was
kind of nice.

“Fuck honey,” Jameson growled and pushed me against the
tree harder.

His movements sped as did his hips and we were lost in a
world of itching bug bites, sweaty bodies, breathy words, hurried touches and
laughs.

Any time I was with Jameson, it was a flurry of emotions
both emotional and physical swirling inside me. He had the power to stir up and
turn wild those very same feelings whenever he felt like it. I hated that he
could do that to me but I took pride that I could do that same to him if
needed.

Believe me when I say that not every time you have sex
with your husband is it going to be this way. Sometimes it’s quick and dirty,
other times it’s slow and sensual and then there are the times when you just don’t
mix. Something feels off, maybe it’s you, maybe it’s him, but guess what?

That’s marriage.

But this time, against the tree, I briefly thought to
myself, “Well, this is the second time in your life you’ve been fucked against
a tree.” And then I thought, “Hot damn, this is the second time I’m being
fucked against a tree.”

Focusing on the moment, my dirty heathen pressed his
forehead to mine, one hand wrapped around my right thigh and the other holding
onto a branch above my head. My eyes darted to his arm beside my head watching
the way the thick muscles flexed as his hips moved. My eyes traveled over his
shoulder and then to his face watching the way his brow knitted together in
concentration, the way his lips parted slightly as he let out soft grunts of
pleasure. His eyes were closed but when I breathed his name, he opened them for
me just about the time we fell.

I don’t mean fell into our rev limit either. I mean
actually fell.

“Son of a bitch!” Jameson shouted, trying to break our
fall as his knee slammed into a log.

We must not have had good leverage or something because
regardless, we fell.

“Get over here,” Jameson roughly grabbed me by my hips
and placed me on all fours, on the ground, in the woods.

If that wasn’t hot I’m not sure what was because I
completely lost it and found my rev limit and then some.

I’m not sure what it was that made it so hot and sent my
temps rising but I’d like to think it was because of the way he manhandled me
and shoved me on all fours to satisfy his need.

“That’s right.” Jameson said in a rush of winded words
and a cocky nod when I finished moaning and turned to look at him.

He looked so hot with chips of wood in his hair, polished
body from the humidity and working up fast time.

Removing myself from him, I threw his shirt at him.

“Someday you’ll need your own country to house that head
of yours.”

I left him sitting there in the woods and began to make
my way back to camp when I heard Tommy yell, “Hey look, it’s a cougar.”

I knew he was joking but I’d never seen Jameson run so
fast. He flew past me and was standing by the fire before I even made two
steps. Probably not that fast but it seemed that way.

“Hey asshole, thanks for caring about your wife!” I
shouted at him and then tripped over a log and face planted.

When I made it back to the fire Jameson was wrestling
with Tommy and a bottle of pink hair dye.

Apparently, Tommy was trying to replace Jameson’s shampoo
with pink hair dye when Jameson caught him.

I, for one, could have cared less about the hair dye or
who got their hair dyed when I returned.

I had some many cuts, bruises, splinters, and abrasions
that I needed a first aid kit and a few words with Jameson and Tommy.

Tommy ran from Jameson when he kicked him in the shin and
realized he shouldn’t have but instead slipped and smacked the back of his head
on a log.

Tommy laid there for a moment before he panicked.

“Oh god, please tell me I don’t have blood coming out of
my ears! Please tell me!” he groaned pushing his hands through his orange hair
and down his face roughly.

“No,” Jameson kicked him in the side, still without shoes
on. “You don’t have blood coming from your ears dumb shit.”

Pushing Jameson aside, I knelt next to Tommy pretending to
check for blood. “Nope, no blood. But you do smell like piss and Tequila and
you’re missing your eyebrows.” And then I smacked his forehead. “Don’t ever do
that to me again!”

“Do what?”

“Threaten a cougar sighting. We take that shit seriously
in this family.”

“Oh please, it was a joke.” Tommy curled into a ball with
his log. The sun peaking over the trees revealed his pale face. “If I never see
Tequila again, it will be too soon.”

Justin laughed hanging on Ami, his own face just as pale.
“He said that last week.”

Still sitting next to Tommy in the dirt, he looked at me,
with wide blood shot eyes. “I sometimes think that my ideas will work on
Jameson.”

“Fire crotch,” I shook my head rubbing his back softly.
“I sometimes think that I could have been a professional dancer and then
reality sinks in and I say to myself, that’s a pipe dream.”

He looked concerned. “Are you saying I’ll never get him
back?”

“No. I just don’t want you to get your hopes up.”

Tommy moaned and fell back into the dirt. “Did they
really brand my chest?”

I nodded with a smile. “Yes, that really happened.”

“Are my eyebrows missing?”

“Yes, that really happened too.”

Before heading back to our tent, I looked at the campsite
and cringed at what ten adults were able to do in one evening.

We had no beer left, no hard alcohol and most of our food
was now gone. Not to mention we almost set the picnic table on fire,
successfully discovered how to make a bomb with Pepsi and Mentos, made a beer
bong with Ami’s breast bump, gave Tommy a tattoo with a branding iron Aiden had
made on his chest that said “I’m your bitch” and lost Ryder. Actually lost him.