He nods, running a hand through his hair, like he’s already forcing himself back into control.
“Yeah, I know,” he says. “That’s why we stick to the plan, just like we said.”
I nod in agreement, wiping my hands on the rag before stepping back to give him space.
“Go on, try it now.”
Dom swings his leg over the bike and hits the starter, the engine sputtering before dying again. He barely has time to get off before I step in and kick the bike hard, sending it crashing onto its side.
“You fucking piece of shit!” I snap, already over it.
Dom just laughs, lifting his hands in mock surrender.
“Whoa, whoa, brother, take it easy.” I glare at him, dragging a frustrated breath through my teeth.
“Fuck this shit, bro. Let’s go get the Ducati,” I deadpan. “I’m done with Honda.”
Sierra
Oh my God… I slept way too much.
I keep my eyes closed a little longer, one hand pressed against my forehead as I take a slow breath, immediately regretting every glass I had last night.
Drinking that much was a mistake.
What’s wrong with me?!
My head is pounding in that dull, persistent way that makes everything feel off, and even shifting in bed feels like more effort than I’m willing to give right now.
I reach for my phone on the nightstand, ready to call Tess and have her bring me something for this shitty headache, because there’s no way I’m dealing with it on my own. I still don’t get why she left so early, but honestly, who the fuck cares.
My thumb hovers over her contact for barely a second before a new notification catches my attention instead. A message from an unknown number, sent ten minutes ago.
What the hell?
I open it.
“Good morning, cumslut.”
I fix my eyes on the screen, making sure I actually read that right. I did.
“What the fuck…” I mutter under my breath, my brows pulling together as irritation settles in fast.
Someone really has the nerve to text me like that. From an unknown number?!
I push myself up, the headache still there but suddenly less important, my attention fully on the message.
Who even…
I don’t overthink it. I type back quickly.
“Who is this?”
I hit send and drop the phone back onto the bed, already annoyed, but not enough to ignore it. Not when someone clearly thinks they can talk to me like that.
“Someone who hasn’t forgotten what it felt like to have your cunt wrapped around his cock.”
I focus on the screen, my hold on the phone growing firmer as my blood begins to boil. I don’t know who the hell this is, and I’m definitely not in the mood for this shit.
