3

Gigi

“Is this your car?” my stepbrother’s mouth falls open as I slide into my modified BMW M5. I proudly utter, “Yes, Dad was generous enough to buy me my favorite car.” My hands clutch the steering wheel, and then I turn my face to look at him. His eyebrows go narrow as he declares, “What do you know about cars?” casually shrugging my shoulders, I reply, “So much more.”

As soon as I slide down the windows, he bends over, his arms resting on the door frame. Our eyes collide, and the moment pauses. I am lost in his mesmerizing eyes and the soft grin that creeps upon his beautiful lips. However, I immediately return to reality and smile at him, “I hope I am not keeping you from reaching your girlfriend.” A tiny gasp escapes his mouth, and expressions of realization appear on his face.

“Oh, shit. Yes! I will see you later!” placing a quick kiss on my cheek, he hurries away, leaving me astonished. For over one good minute, I stay still in my place, my hands clutching onto the steering wheel of my car. My heart flutters deep into my heart and my pussy throbs. Now I wonder how it feels when he is playing with me.

As I snap out of my reflective state, the engine of my car roars to life, the powerful sound reverberating through the opulent gates of the mansion as I accelerate into the outside world. Soon I arrive at my favorite place, the scene before me is a display of luxury and excitement, with a crowd already gathering around the freestyle track where the drift show is set to take place.

As the drift show kicks off, a series of cars take to the track one by one, their engines roaring and tires screeching as they drive the twists and turns with precision and skill. The roaring of sound fills the air, the reverberations of screeching tires creating a symphony of adrenaline and excitement that resonates deep within me.

My eyes gleam with excitement as I observe the other drivers in action, the thrill of the competition pulses through me, fueling my own determination as I wait for my turn to take the stage. When my turn finally arrives, I can feel my heart racing with excitement as I rev the engine of my car, the powerful sound reverberating through the air.

With a deep breath, I lean into the steering wheel and push the accelerator, feeling the rush of adrenaline as I initiate a series of controlled circles with the tires of my car. The screech of rubber against the road surface fills the air, the smell of burning rubber mingling with the thrill of speed and skill as I bring off each turn with precision and finesse.

As I am caught up in the excitement of drifting, my brother's voice suddenly calls out to me. Startled, I turn around to see him approaching with a stunning blonde woman by his side, her smile radiating warmth. "Hey Gigi, where do you learn to drift like that?" my brother asks, a mix of surprise and admiration in his voice. I straighten up and walk closer to them, eager to meet the woman by his side.

My brother then proudly introduces me to his girlfriend, saying, "Gigi, this is Tiffany, my girlfriend.”

I pause for a moment, my gaze sweeping over Tiffany as I take in her presence, a flicker of uncertainty crossing my features. It feels unusual to scan her in this way, and I quickly avert my eyes, not wanting to make her feel uncomfortable. "Hi, Genevieve," she speaks in a sweet voice.

I greet her with a forced smile, extending my hand for a handshake. "What are you guys doing here?" I inquire, attempting to shift the focus of our interaction to prevent awkwardness in the situation.

Alex, my stepbrother, meets my gaze with a polite nod, his expression composed as he responds, "We're here to see the bike race. Some of Tiffany's friends are participating." The tension in the air eases slightly as he offers this explanation, the conversation flowing more smoothly with the introduction of a new topic.

The night is alive with the hum of engines and the glow of neon lights, casting an electrifying atmosphere over the drift show. As the car drifting event comes to a close, the focus shifts to the next thrilling spectacle - a high-energy bike race.

Handsome boys, their faces hidden by helmets, rev up their powerful superbikes, their sleek machines gleaming under the moonlit sky. Among them stands a figure cloaked in mystery - a rider in a black balaclava, his aura of enigmatic allure capturing my attention.

The race begins, the bikers tearing through the twisting track with speed and precision, their bikes weaving through the night like streaks of lightning. The balaclava-clad rider steers the course with unparalleled skill, his movements fluid and calculated as he gains ground on his competitors.

I watch in amazement as I stare at the mysterious biker enjoying the praise from the crowd, keeping his face hidden. I feel like I've seen him before, but I can't quite remember where. The feeling of familiarity won't leave me, making me more and more curious about who he is.

It reminds me of the incident at the mansion when my father passed away, A group of people seized the entire mansion, leaving no space for me and my mother to get out. They trapped us and the man wearing a balaclava who threatened me with a knife at my neck.

I am deeply convinced that it is indeed the very same man. His presence remains etched in my memory, refusing to fade away. It feels as though his penetrating eyes are fixed on me as if he is constantly tracking my every move - haunting me. His tall height and the evident strength in his taut physique give me a chilling impression that he possesses the capability to snap the necks of everybody around me swiftly.