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Fuck, she’s beautiful. His gaze skimmed over her jacket and white leather pants. He was hard just thinking of all the things he was going to do to her. Hades' only mission was to fuck her until she passed out. He took her helmet, hooking in onto his handlebar and grabbed her hand, walking them up to the back porch. He unlocked the door and pushed it open. When Vada didn’t move, he glanced over his shoulder. She was standing awkwardly, rocking on her heels.
“There a problem?”
“No.” Vada looked to the open doorway, back to Hades, and then repeated the move. What the fuck was she doing? Hades looked at the doorway and then back to her.
“You coming in or gonna stay on the porch all night?”
She flattened her lips, swaying on her feet. What the hell was he missing?
“Vada,” he growled.
“It’s tradition,” she blurted.
What was? It was on the tip of his tongue to ask. He didn’t. If he never heard the word tradition again, he’d die fucking happy.
“I know you think it’s silly, but…”
“What’s tradition?”
Vada shrugged, a soft pink flashing over her cheeks. “I want you to carry me over the threshold.”
Hades raised his brows. “The what?”
She pointed to the door. “The doorway. It’s good luck.”
Luck. They didn’t need it. They had something bigger, better, and stronger. They had each other. There were some love stories that were solidified from day one. That was Hades and Vada. But, if this made her happy, then, fuck, he’d do it.
My way.
Hades stalked up to Vada, gripped her under her arms, lifted her up, and pulled her against his chest. She was forced to wrap her legs around his waist.
“This is the naughty version, Hades.” She kissed him and mumbled against his mouth. “This isn’t tradition.” Hades ignored the comment and deepened the kiss, dropping his hands to her ass and walking through the back door.
No, it wasn’t traditional. Fuck tradition. They’d make their own.
The panty-dropping outlaw boss and Vada fucking Monroe.
The End
