LOGINPakin’s P.O.VThe Buriram International Circuit was no longer just a racetrack; it had become a coliseum. As we arrived, the sheer scale of the event hit me like a physical blow. Fifty thousand seats, and every single one of them seemed to be occupied. The air was thick with the smell of burnt rubber, high-octane fuel, and the electric hum of anticipation.But this year, the atmosphere was different. The security was suffocatingly tight, with guards stationed every few meters, their eyes scanning the crowds with a level of intensity that usually reserved for visiting heads of state. And then there were the paparazzi.They were swarming the perimeter like vultures, cameras clicking in a rhythmic, aggressive cadence. I didn't need to be told why. I was the catalyst. The "Hidden Prince" was no longer hidden, and the media was desperate to capture every blink, every bead of sweat, and every flicker of hesitation on my face.As I walked
Pakin’s P.O.VThe silence that followed Pa Yiwa’s question was deafening. For a moment, the gentle lap of the Chao Phraya river against the pier sounded like a crashing wave, drowning out everything else.I felt my heart sink, a cold weight settling in the pit of my stomach. I had come here specifically to escape the noise—to find a sanctuary of steaming noodles and grandmotherly kindness where the suffocating pressure of my royal blood and the toxic fallout of my history with May couldn't reach me.But the tabloids had reached here first. The scandal had leaked into the one place I felt safe.I stared at my plate of Pad Krapow, the vibrant basil and spicy chilies suddenly looking unappetizing. The headline she mentioned—the one claiming I had accepted a proposal from a woman—was a lie, a calculated strike by May to paint me as a hypocrite and a liar, especially now that my relationship with Sean was becoming
Pakin’s P.O.VThe air in the garage was thick with the scent of high-octane fuel and burnt rubber, a smell that had become synonymous with my new life. We stood beside our machines, the silence of the room punctuated only by the rhythmic clink-clink of tools.My car, the Valkyre, looked like a predator poised to strike, its sleek lines shimmering under the fluorescent lights. Beside it sat Sean’s Porsche GT3, a beast of a machine that mirrored its owner’s aggressive confidence.Matt, our lead mechanic, was hunched over the engine bay of the Porsche, his hands grease-stained as he made the final adjustments. He was a man of few words, but his precision was legendary. He moved with a surgical focus, tightening a bolt here, adjusting a valve there, ensuring that every single component was tuned to perfection.Coal stood between us, his arms crossed, looking more like a general than a strategist. He glanced at the clock and
Pakin’s P.O.VThe morning after the shower, my body felt like it was still humming. Every time I shifted in my seat or felt the fabric of my clothes brush against my skin, I was reminded of Sean’s grip, the heat of the water, and the suffocating, electric thrill of almost being caught.I could feel Sean’s gaze on me throughout the morning—heavy, possessive, and laced with a smugness that made my stomach flip. He knew exactly what he’d done to me, and he enjoyed the fact that I was currently vibrating with a mixture of lingering pleasure and lingering embarrassment.But as the day progressed, the haze of lust was replaced by a cold, sharpening tension. The Nationals were looming.The preliminary race for the newbie section was scheduled for tomorrow. It was designed as an introductory event, a way for the newest members of the teams to prove their mettle and get a feel for the high-stakes environment of the professional circuit. Since I was the only new addition to the Track Dragons, t
Pakin’s P.O.VSean’s eyes darkened as I complained about the grime. He didn't look annoyed; instead, a slow, wicked grin spread across his face. He reached up, his thumb brushing against my lower lip, smearing a bit of the saliva he’d left there."I can think of a way to get you clean, teerak," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that vibrated in my chest.He didn't wait for an answer. He grabbed my hand and hauled me toward the back of the locker room, where the communal showers were located. The area was empty, the air heavy with the scent of chlorine and old soap. He pushed me into one of the large stalls, the heavy plastic curtain snapping shut behind us, enclosing us in a small, humid sanctuary.The moment the water hit us—scalding hot and steaming—I let out a sigh of relief. We stripped frantically, the racing suits falling to the wet floor in a heap of fire-retardant fabric. Under the spray, the water washed away the oil and salt, but it did nothing to cool the heat radiating b
Pakin’s P.O.VThe engine’s scream is still vibrating through my bones when I kill the ignition. My hands won’t stop shaking—not from the race, not from the win, but from the knowledge of what comes next. The checkered flag means nothing. The bet means nothing. The only prize I care about is waiting in the pit beside me, engine ticking, heat radiating off his car like it radiates off him.Sean.I don’t even have my helmet off before his boots hit the concrete. I hear him—the heavy stride, the impatient grunt as he yanks his own helmet free. My stomach clenches, my cock already starting to thicken in my suit.I know that look. I’ve been memorizing it since the first time I saw him on the track. That dark hunger, that predatory stillness before he strikes.He doesn’t waste words. He grabs the collar of my racing suit and hauls me against him. The worn Nomex crinkles as our chests collide, and I can smell him—sweat, gasoline, victory. His voice is gravel scraped over steel.“You think tha
Pakin’s P.O.VThe more Dew spoke about May and everything else, the clearer everything became—how blind I had been, how foolish I was to never see the truth staring me in the face.“But there’s something different about you now, you know." He
Pakin’s P.O.VThat night, after dinner, my brother and I sat outside in the garden, the cool night air crisp against our skin. A small fireplace crackled between us, casting flickering shadows across the grass. The scent of burning wood and the earthy aroma of the ga
Pakin’s P.O.VThe next morning, as I slowly blinked awake, the warmth of the sunlight filtering through my curtains was the first thing I noticed. The second was the constant vibration of my phone on the nightstand.Groggy but curious, I reached for it, rubbin
Pakin’s P.O.VI sat on the edge of my bed, my mind still replaying the events from earlier. The confrontation with May, the finality of it all—it should have left me feeling relieved, but instead, I felt heavy, like I had just severed a part of my past that I t







