The F1 Champion Wants to Claim Me for Herself in a Reverse World
Chapter 38: Guilt Job

Guilt sits in my stomach like a lead weight, even as I plaster on my congratulatory smile. The Miami podium looms behind me, champagne puddles still glistening on the platform where my wife just collected another trophy for her ever-expanding collection.

The race went well enough, I suppose. Ivy beat Blair by a clean two seconds, with Olivia Piastri surprisingly close behind despite driving what everyone knows is an inferior machine. I should be ecstatic, my wife dominated again, finally getting the lead in the championship over Blair by 1 point. But all I can think about is how my special sauce seems to be losing its edge for Ivy.

I shift uncomfortably against the barrier separating fans from team personnel. The crowd’s energy has barely diminished since the checkered flag, the Miami atmosphere electric with wealth and excitement.

The office doors swing open, and they emerge one by one, the top three finishers fresh from their mandatory weigh-in. Blair first, her silver eyes fixed straight ahead, deliberately avoiding my gaze as she strides toward the Zenith Area. Olivia follows.

Then Ivy appears, purple highlights catching the afternoon sun as her eyes scan the crowd with predatory focus. The moment she spots me, her entire demeanor transforms. The calculated champion melts away, replaced by something I still can’t quite believe is meant for me, pure, unfiltered joy.

“Nick!” she shouts, breaking into a sprint that sends nearby photographers scrambling for their cameras.

Before I can react, she barrels into me with the force of an F1 car at full throttle. Her arms wrap around my waist and suddenly my feet leave the ground as she hoists me into the air with effortless strength. My body spins in a dizzying arc as she twirls me, her powerful muscles flexing beneath her racing suit.

“Did you watch me out there?” she purrs, her accent thicker with post-race adrenaline. “Was I sexy destroying the competition?”

I can’t help but laugh, partly from the ridiculous display of strength I’ve grown to cherish, partly from the sheer joy radiating from her. My hands find her shoulders to steady myself as she holds me aloft like I weigh nothing.

“The sexiest,” I confirm, acutely aware of the dozens of phones capturing this moment.

She finally sets me down but keeps me pressed against her, one arm snaked possessively around my waist. The scent of champagne and sweat clings to her skin, intoxicating in its familiarity.

Her eyes find mine, and something shifts in her expression, a desperate hunger that makes my breath catch. There’s a rawness there, something primal that sends electricity racing down my spine.

“I need you,” she whispers, just loud enough for me to hear.

I barely have time to process her words before she’s closing the distance between us. My lips part instinctively, tongue darting out to meet hers as she claims my mouth with bruising intensity. The kiss is immediate and filthy, all tongue, teeth, and hopelessly needy. I melt against her, my body responding with a hunger that matches her own.

Her fingers tangle in my hair, pulling just hard enough to make me gasp into her mouth. I don’t care that we’re surrounded by cameras, that tomorrow this will be splashed across every sports website and social media platform. All I care about is being closer to her, feeling more of her, drowning in the heat of her.

The world narrows to just us, the taste of champagne on her tongue, the firmness of her body against mine, the soft moan she breathes into my mouth. I’d give her anything in this moment. My body, my soul, whatever she needs.

“Let the man breathe! He’s gonna pass out!” A voice cuts through the moment, followed by scattered laughter from the crowd.

Without breaking our kiss, Ivy’s middle finger shoots up defiantly toward the voice. Her other hand slides down my back, finding my ass and squeezing possessively, pulling me even tighter against her. The crowd whoops and hollers at her brazen response, but she doesn’t care. If anything, the audience only fuels her further.

I should be embarrassed. I should want to pull away, create some distance between us in this very public space. Instead, I press closer, my body responding with a traitorous enthusiasm that surprises even me. I feel myself hardening against her, a warm wetness beginning to form at my tip, my body completely betraying any sense of public decency.

God help me, am I actually enjoying this? The realization hits me like a physical blow, I’m getting off on this, on being claimed so thoroughly in front of everyone. I try not to unpack that thought any further.

When we finally break apart, I’m gasping for air, my face scorching hot. Ivy’s eyes are dark with desire, pupils blown wide as she studies my flushed face.

Her expression shifts subtly, eyes narrowing as they search mine. Something in my face must betray me because her hands move to cup my cheeks, thumbs stroking my flushed skin.

“What’s wrong?” she asks, voice dropping to a concerned whisper that feels jarringly intimate amid the crowd’s noise. “You look... troubled.”

I swallow hard, the guilt churning inside me like a living thing. This isn’t the place, surrounded by fans, team personnel, and what feels like a hundred cameras.

“Later,” I manage, forcing a smile that doesn’t reach my eyes. “When we’re alone.”

Something annoyed flashes across her face. Without another word, she grabs my wrist, her grip firm but not painful. She turns, cutting through the crowd with such purpose that people instinctively part before her. I stumble along behind her, mumbling half-formed apologies to those we brush past.

The walk to our trailer feels both endless and too quick. Ivy doesn’t speak, doesn’t look back, just marches forward with the same single-minded focus she applies to everything in her life. Her fingers remain locked around my wrist like she’s afraid I might bolt if given the chance.

We reach the trailer in record time. Ivy yanks the door open, pushes me inside, and slams it shut behind us with enough force to rattle the windows. Before I can catch my balance, her hands are on my shoulders, guiding me backward until my legs hit the edge of the bed.

“Sit,” she commands, her accent thicker than usual.

I comply without thinking, sinking onto the mattress as she drops to her knees before me. Her fingers make quick work of my belt, then my zipper, tugging my pants down with practiced efficiency. The cool air of the trailer hits my exposed skin, making me shiver.

“Now,” she says, looking up at me through her lashes, “talk.”

Before I can formulate a response, she leans forward and takes me fully into her mouth in one fluid motion. Her soft wet mouth engulfs my cock completely, stealing the breath from my lungs. A pathetic sound escapes me, half whimper, half moan, as pleasure crashes through my system.

“I… I can’t think when you do that,” I gasp, my fingers tangling in her hair reflexively.

She pulls back just enough to speak, her breath hot against my sensitive skin. “That’s the point. No overthinking. Just truth.”

Her mouth descends again, taking me deeper than before. I feel the back of her throat constrict around my tip as she pushes past her comfort zone, eyes watering slightly as she forces herself to swallow more of me. My hips buck involuntarily, driving me even deeper into her willing throat.

“Jesus Christ, Ivy,” I moan, watching her purple-tinged head bob between my trembling thighs.

She gags audibly, her throat spasming around me, yet she doesn’t pull back. Instead, she doubles down until her nose presses against my stomach. The wet, obscene sounds filling our trailer fuel my arousal.

I try to sit up straighter to maintain some semblance of control, but her relentless assault makes it difficult. My arms shake as I attempt to prop myself up, only to collapse back onto my elbows when she hollows her cheeks and sucks hard enough to make my vision blur.

“Fuck,” I pant, watching her through half-lidded eyes. “I think I’m becoming too much of a distraction for you. The gap between you and Blair... it’s getting shorter.”

She pulls back with a vulgar, wet pop, saliva connecting her swollen lips to my glistening cock. Her purple eyes flash dangerously.

“What did you just say?” she demands, her voice raspy from the abuse her throat just endured.

“I just…” My words catch in my throat as she presses her lips to my tip, planting soft, deliberate kisses that somehow feel more intimate than when she’d taken all of me. Each press of her mouth sends shivers radiating through my body, her eyes never leaving mine.

“You think you’re distracting me?” she asks between kisses, her tongue darting out to trace the sensitive ridge. “That Blair’s catching up because of you?”

I swallow hard, watching her worship me with those plush lips. “She’s closing the distance, Ivy. And all those hours we spend together…”

She cuts me off by swallowing me whole again, taking me so deep I feel her throat close around me. My thoughts scatter like startled birds, coherence dissolving into pure sensation as she works me with devastating precision.

When she finally releases me, I’m trembling, barely able to form words. “I think... I think I’m taking up too much of your time,” I manage, my voice breaking. “You should be in the simulator more, studying telemetry, not wasting energy on me.”

Her expression darkens as she takes me back into the wet heaven of her mouth, this time with a gentleness that makes tears spring to my eyes. The contrast between her fierce personality and this tender act of devotion undoes me completely.

“I don’t want to spend less time with you,” I whisper, my fingers caressing her hair as she continues her loving ministrations. “I just don’t want to be the reason you lose.”

She swallows me down with renewed hunger, her pace quickening to something almost punishing. The gurgiling sounds of her throat working around me fill our trailer, drowning out the distant celebrations outside. Her purple-tinged hair becomes a blur as she bobs faster, more desperately, like she’s trying to physically pull the doubt from my body through sheer force.

“Oh god,” I groan, my back arching off the bed. “Ivy, I’m close… I can’t hold…”

Her eyes lock with mine, fierce and commanding even from her position between my legs. Those purple irises burn with such intensity it steals my breath. No words pass her lips, but the message in her gaze is unmistakable, an order, a demand, a challenge.

My entire body shakes as pleasure tears through me like lightning. “Ivy!” I cry out her name as I erupt, flooding her eager mouth with pulse after pulse of hot release. She doesn’t flinch, doesn’t pull away, just keeps those mesmerizing eyes locked on mine as she swallows everything I have to give her.

When the last tremor subsides, she slowly pulls away, licking her lips with deliberate showmanship. A single pearly drop escapes the corner of her mouth, and she catches it with her thumb before sucking it clean.

She rises from her knees, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand as she settles beside me on the bed. The mattress dips under her weight, and I feel the heat radiating from her body even through her racing suit.

“You’re right,” she says quietly, her voice still raspy from her efforts. “I have been slacking a bit lately.”

My heart sinks at her admission, but she continues before I can respond.

“But you know what? Blair’s also just a better driver than I initially gave her credit for. It’s not just any one thing.” She takes my hand, her thumb tracing circles on my palm. “And even if you are distracting me, I’ve been a champion before.” Her purple eyes soften. “But I’ve never been in love before. That’s a worthwhile pursuit too, don’t you think?”

The sincerity in her voice makes my chest ache. “I don’t want you to regret this in the future,” I whisper, squeezing her hand. “I’m not going anywhere, Ivy. You don’t have to choose between me and racing. You can have both.”

A smile spreads across her face, transforming her features from fierce to almost vulnerable. “I don’t live with regrets, Nick. I’m impulsive, yes, but I’m also committed. When I decide something matters, it matters forever.” She brings my hand to her lips, kissing my knuckles with surprising tenderness. “I love loving you. I love it far more than I love racing.”

Heat rushes to my face, and I duck my head, overwhelmed by her declaration.

“Still,” I persist, unable to let it go completely, “you said you had the triple crown dream, and you need to win this year for…”

She cuts me off with another deep kiss, her lips silencing my concerns more effectively than any words could. When she pulls back, there’s a mixture of amusement and exasperation in her eyes.

“Stop overthinking everything, Nick. I’m an adult. I’m four years older than you, for God’s sake. You’re not making me choose.” Her smile returns, softer now, almost vulnerable. “Even if I lose, I have you. So I’m still a winner.”

My throat tightens with emotion. I’ve never been someone’s prize before, never been valued above ambition and career. The weight of her declaration settles over me like a warm blanket.

“I love you so much,” I whisper, my voice cracking with emotion.

“I love you too.”