Quiver

Ryan's POV

Fuck Jimmie Johnson! Who the fuck does he think he is?

I don't give two shits that he's a seven time champion. I used to respect the hell out of that guy now all I want to do is put my fist into his smug face.

The fucking nerve of him going on national TV and announcing that I was scared shitless of him and that my lips were quivering and my knees shaking.

Mother fucker hasn't done shit in the last couple of years, and he wants to blame me for his shitty season, like it's going to be my fault if he doesn't make the playoffs.

Fuck him. I angrily storm to my bus.

I need a drink and a shower and time to cool off before I really do put my fist in his face.

"Where you going Blaney? Running from Jimmie?"

I hear a taunting female voice behind me. I whip my head around annoyed. There was this girl. Well, not really a girl, a young woman. She's wearing a Jimmie Johnson shirt. Figures. I really don't feel like having a conversation with one of his fans.

"Whatever." I mumble and start to walk off again.

"Are you scared Blaney?" Her taunting tone stops me in my tracks, and I turn around again.

She is sneering at me. I get a good look at her, and damn she is hot. Small, curvy, impressive rack underneath that tight, fucking Jimmie Johnson shirt.

She pushes her long, dark hair over her shoulder, lifts her sunglasses and glares at me from her deep blue eyes. Fuck! If only she wasn't his fan.

"I'm not scared of him or anyone else." I tell her.

Why the fuck am I even talking to her?

"I think you are. I bet you don't have the balls to go toe to toe with Jimmie. He'll kick your ass." She smirked.

"I already said if Jimmie wants to go, we'll fucking go. I made that clear."

Shit. Why was I even talking to her?

Yeah, she's hot as fuck, but why am I even entertaining this conversation?

"You're full of shit Blaney. You are not fit to be in the presence of Jimmie Johnson's greatness."

I really should have walked away, but something held me back.

"I told you I'm not scared of Jimmie or anyone else for that matter."

Yeah, that came out pretty lame. Repetitive and not very convincing, but I didn't know what else to say. I really tried to take the high road and just walk away, but I found myself drawn to her.

Why? The fuck if I knew.

It was pretty obvious she hated me.

"Prove to me you have balls." She challenged.

Something in me snapped. She wanted me to prove to her that I had balls? Hell, I could do that in my sleep.

I smirked at her. "You want me to prove to you that I have balls? Come with me then. I'll show you I have the balls, and then some."

I was actually getting extremely turned on by this girl. I could feel my dick straining against the tight fabric of my compression shorts under my firesuit.

I figured my bold comment would either shut her up or quite possibly get me laid. Either one worked for me.

I looked at her again, part of me hoping she was insulted, the other part hoping she would take me up on my offer, that she was as turned on as I was.