Page 25 of The Worst Pucking Deal

I laugh darkly. “Oh, I always keep my promises. Thirteen months, Lucia. And unlimited access to your body. This will be fun.”

She sends me a scathing look. “You fucking better. I don’t appreciate being lied to,” she hisses, causing me to smirk.

“I didn’t lie,” I grin. “I called Tom just as promised.”

Arching a brow, she asks, “Why exactly am I here?”

I’m not sure why that wasn’t her first question, or why she prioritized sucking me off before getting answers. Not that I’m complaining since it turned out with me coming in her mouth. “You don’t remember falling asleep in my car?” She shakes her head. “Hmm, okay. Well, you were at O’Jackie’s with a friend and when you saw me, you came up to me and chased some blonde away—”

“Oh,” she gasps, looking around while sucking her bottom lip between her teeth. “I remember now. You said you were going to take me home.”

“I did,” I agree. “But you fell asleep before you could give me your address, so here we are.”

She nods, seemingly accepting the way things played out. Since she isn’t questioning why we’re in the same bed, I see no need to fill in her blanks. “I guess I should get going,” she laughs nervously.

“No,” I say, and her head snaps up. Her mouth opens, ready to argue, but I continue before she can say anything. “You can’t leave my place in the middle of the night. You’re my girlfriend, remember? We have pretenses to keep up. So you’ll stay until I have practice, and I’ll drop you off on the way.”

She nods and looks down at her body. “I need a shower,” she states. “And then I need to borrow some clothes. I can’t leave in the same outfit I arrived in. Not if I spent my night at…” she makes air quotes with her fingers. “…my boyfriend’s.”

Lucia

My head is pounding, and my throat feels like I’ve crossed the Sahara without having even the smallest sip of water for days. Seriously, my mouth is so dry my tongue sticks to the roof. This hangover of all hangovers might just kill me.

“Must you do that?” I hiss, staring pointedly at Sawyer’s fingers as he drums them against the steering wheel.

“Do what?” he asks, amused.

I groan and squint my eyes. “Make that noise.” How much did Gail and I drink last night? I don’t think I’ve ever been this hungover before.

Yesterday is a blur of activities and broken memories. I remember meeting with Remus, what he said about the Senate and marriage. I even remember meeting Gail at O’Jackie’s and seeing Sawyer. But it’s more like I’m watching an old movie where some of the reel has been damaged, not giving me the complete picture.

I need much more sleep than the few hours I got at Sawyer’s place. When I woke up and saw him next to me, I didn’t even question it. The only thing I could think about was that it needed to be me, and that I’d do anything to make myself a better choice. So, yeah, I took his cock in my mouth. God, I wish I could blame the alcohol or an aneurysm. But the shameful truth is that I was just that desperate.

The drive isn’t all that long. Yet it feels like an eternity as I suffer through the sun and sounds of traffic. When we’re finally here, I thank him for the ride and get out of the car. I blink in confusion as Sawyer gets out as well. “What are you doing?” I ask, perplexed.

“Walking you in, of course,” he states. Then he places his hand on the small of my back and walks so close our bodies brush against each other with each step. Warmth spreads where his hand is touching me, causing me to shiver.

I hate how good he looks and smells, like a fucking ad for healthy and clean living. Whereas I feel like death warmed over. It’s not fair, and it’s enough to make me rethink my stance on alcohol consumption.

The apartment I share with Gail is only on the second floor, so instead of using the shady looking and sounding elevator, we take the stairs. I walk up first, with Sawyer closely behind me. He keeps his hand on my back for the first set, but by the time we climb the last few stairs, it’s fallen to my ass.

“This is me,” I say, my back to the door as I fish my keys out of my coat pocket. Sawyer told me I didn’t have my handbag or coat with me when he saw me last night, so we swung by O’Jackie’s before he dropped me off. Apparently, he’s tight with the owner, a grumpy-looking woman who looked like she had a lot to say to me, yet didn’t even say hi. “Thanks for the ride. And umm… for getting me my things.”

When a door opens below us, Sawyer moves closer. He grips my hips and shoves me against the wall. “Thank you for the blowjob,” he whispers against my ear. “I can’t wait to repeat that.”

His nearness overwhelms me, causing my breath to hitch. What can I say? Oh, it’s fine. No worries. Thank you for letting me suck you dry… none of that sounds right. “Don’t mention it.”

His answering smirk is infuriatingly knowing. “I’ll come pick you up after practice. Be ready for me,” he rasps.

“What? Why?”

“Isn’t that what couples do?” he asks, putting some distance between us. “Spend the weekend together.”

“Yeah, but—”

He shakes his head. “No buts, Lucia. You wanted this. Now that you have it, you need to live up to your end of the deal.”

His words penetrate my hazy brain, which is good, because I was on the verge of doing something stupid like turning my head and kissing him. “Fine,” I sniff. “I’ll see you later.” With those words, I turn to unlock the door. “What the hell?” I gasp, shocked at what I see. There’s white spray paint on our door, in the shape of a wolf’s head. The way some of the paint has bled down the wood makes it look ominous.

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