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TEN
My truck’sGPS guided me through the mountainous road, my foot getting heavier on the gas the longer I drove. When I finally pulled up in front of a bar, I threw my truck in park and ran up to the door. Yanking and then shoving on the handle got me nowhere, and I looked at the hours.
Closed.
Dammit.
I looked up, and saw windows above the place. Someone lived there too—above the bar.
So I banged on the door.
Hard.
It was still fairly early in the morning, but I really hoped someone would answer. My body ached so badly that I would’ve settled for pretty much any breathing thing with a cock in that moment.
I knocked louder.
The door opened after a few minutes, and an exhausted, annoyed-looking asshole peered out.
His expression changed when he saw me.
“I need you to let me inside, and fuck me,” I blurted.
The words practically spewed from my mouth.
The guy blinked at me.
“Please,” I added, as if that would help.
The guy peered out behind me, as if looking for a camera, or a cop.
“I’m not underage. I have my ID—it’s in my truck. I have a mattress back there, too, if you’d prefer it, and—”
“Alright, come on.” He stepped back, opening the door wider.
Such a damned asshole.
What the hell was I doing?
I saw reason for all of half a second.
Then another flood of need rolled through me, and I was gone.
“I’ll get you a drink,” the guy told me, striding behind the bar. “We’re not fucking until you’ve told me why you’re so desperate,” he said.
Dammit, did he have to pick that moment to have a conscience? If I’d been there late at night, he wouldn’t have given a shit. But now, he decided to grow a pair and make sure I was okay?
“It’s for a bet,” I blurted. “I—"
I cut myself off when I heard tires squeal on pavement outside.
Shit.
Not a chance in hell that wasn’t Del, or Rocco, or one of the other wolfy-crew. Zed wouldn’t care that I’d left, but the rest of them were all so convinced he was possessive that they had actually come after me, and—
Zed strode through the doors. His jeans were unbuttoned, his erection straining against the front of them, and he wasn’t even wearing a damned shirt. “There you are, Beautiful.” His voice was a low growl, his eyes scanning the situation and clearly seeing the distance between me and the jerk behind the bar. “Getting drinks, are we?”
His arm slung around my waist, his hand curving possessively around my hip—and then wrapping around my core.
