Collision [𝗠.𝗩.]

■ Azerbaijan, December 8th ■

SPOTTED: Jessica Bond and Max Verstappen attending the FIA gala together - @F1Gossip_Guru

@F1Gossip_Guru they're so cute i want to hurl - @User09728

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AZERBAIJAN

DECEMBER 8TH

The awards ceremony is easily the most boring part of the year. Yet Max has decided he wants to turn it into something fun. The better part of the morning was spent tangled in the bedsheets of our hotel room as he told me the things he would do to celebrate his victory when the stupid dinner was over.

I had my own plans brewing. Despite the rumours swirling around after his father's remarks about me - which I have unfortunately seen - I'm not letting anything spoil this evening. And what's a better way to ensure Max has a great time than to completely surprise him?

We're arm in arm as we leave the venue, trophies already passed on to our teams, nothing to remember to take with us but our phones, which are both silenced. If I have my way, they'll stay like that.

The taxi ride back to the hotel feels like torture. After half a minute, I can't stop myself from leaning into Max to give him a heated kiss that he's too eager to reciprocate. Our poor taxi driver must feel so awkward. I almost feel bad about it, if not for the subtle swipe of a hand down my body.

Bastard.

I tip the driver generously, because the poor sod deserves it, somehow not throwing Max against the exterior wall of the hotel lobby. It takes all my restraint not to shove him up against the mirror in the lift. My patience frays when he fumbles with the keycard for our room.

My hands are grasping at the sleek black suit jacket as I pull Max towards me; the surprised sound out of him makes me feel confident in what I'm going to do. I know my kisses are desperate, his lips crushed to mine as he drops the card to place his hands at my waist. His fingers press into the sheer black fabric, almost tearing through it.

With little effort, I have him against the door. I drift from his perfect mouth to his neck, biting gently. He gasps. Not good enough. I bite harder, receiving a strangled groan as he pulls my hips to his. That's the noise I wanted.

"Jess—" He's already struggling to keep his breathing under control. I don't answer, hands still holding onto the suit jacket as I suck at the angry red patch that's growing near the collar of his suit. His head hits the door with a thud and a shaky exhale whilst I run my tongue gently over the mark I've created.

I'm stopped as a hand leaves my waist, grabbing a fistful of my hair to yank me away from his neck. It's his turn to attack my neck, and god does it feel like heaven when he bites at the bruising skin. But I can't let him take control of me like that. Much as I would love to let him do as he always does - devour me - it's his turn to be devoured.

I both pull away and use my fisted hands to push him firmly against the door again. His eyes are flaring with defiance. What little colour remains in them is a warning that I will ignore.

"Get the fucking door open." My voice doesn't sound anything like I thought it would. My tone is low, the desperation clear as I struggle not to buckle from the way he looks at me as though I am prey. He bends quickly, snatching up the keycard and arguing with the door; my chance is now.

I'm at his back, hands slipping under the jacket to pull the shirt out from where it's tucked into his black trousers. I place open-mouthed kisses on the back of his neck as he gets the door open and tries to turn in my arms. Big mistake, I think with a smirk as he turns. He's just given me leverage over him.