We recently discovered the incredible phenomenon of NASCAR-themed romance fiction, stories filled with passion and grease and beautiful people being driven swiftly to ecstasy and Victory Lane alike. What follows is a brief selection from one such tale.
From Slingshot Moves, by Anna Schmidt:
"I like Anna way too much to be a home wrecker," Heidi said as they climbed back into the cab of his truck.
"Wait a minute, does that mean I need to worry that if you found some rich guy with a wife you didn't care for, you could —"
"Oh, shut up and drive," Heidi said as she leaned across the center console and planted a kiss on his lips.
Steve pulled her closer until the padding of the console pressed against her side. He deepened the kiss, possessively claiming her mouth with his, their tongues dancing in the familiar tango that only they knew.
After a long moment he slid his mouth across her cheekbones and over her ear. "Or we could stay right here, steam up the windows real good and see what happens," he whispered.
The moist heat of his breath against her ear was thrilling. "Or," she whispered as she allowed her mouth and tongue to roam over his neck and jaw, "you could start your engine and get me home so I can catch a couple of hours of sleep before I have to be at work tomorrow."
"My engine's already running," he whispered. "Turns on automatically the minute you're in the area. Marry me, woman. I wonder if there's a justice of the peace around here somewhere."
Heidi sat up and held his face with both palms. "Steve Grosso, if that's your idea of a proposal, your choice of venues is the worst. The parking lot of a truck stop? You cannot be serious."
Be sure to tune in for the next steamy installment of Tailpipe — your smutty NASCAR romance story hour!