Page 26 of Puck Lust

My cock jumps.

It’s been a while.

And even though it’s not the mouth I desperately want wrapped around my dick, it’ll do for tonight.

As for Carter…I’ll have to get over him again.

Because I can’t afford to jeopardize the one thing that actually does take care of me.

I follow the guy out of the elevator when it stops on the fourth floor. He makes a sharp left down the hallway. I narrow my eyes at his tall, lean form. Definitely not a first timer.

A sudden urge to cut and run consumes me and my leg muscles tighten.

I shake it off, figuring it’s just because my head is all fucked up and clouded with lust for a guy I’ll never have.

He stops at the end of the hall and walks into a small alcove where the rooms are spread out into suites.

At least he’s not a cheap fuck.

The lock clicks and he twists the brass handle to open the door. The room is dark when he enters. The door slams shut behind me before the room is flooded with light.

My heart stutters to a stop.

Jesus Christ, what the hell did I just walk into?

Three guys face us, dressed in black denim, heavy silver chains around their necks and more hanging from their leather cuts. They stare me down, menacing looks on their pock-marked faces. One of them has a long, deep scar down the side of his cheek, greasy hair slicked back and his part covered by a dirty bandana. Another one has tattoos covering his entire upper body starting from behind his ears. And the third thug is bald with piercings everywhere and gauges in his ears.

I back toward the door but the guy looks at me and shakes his head.

“Don’t do it, handsome,” he murmurs. “These guys just want to talk to you.”

The greasy hair guy steps forward, tugging a metal chain tight with both hands.

“Who the hell are you?” I ask, taking a step forward. Fuck them if they think I’ll cower.

“Wrong fucking question. Who we are isn’t important right now,” he grunts.

Then the scarred fucker slides his leather cut aside so I can see the handle of his gun sticking out of the waistband of his torn jeans.

I glare at the guy who delivered me to these fucking pricks. “You think you’re gonna get away with this shit?”

He smirks. “I don’t see how I can’t. You didn’t bother to ask my name, remember? Said you didn’t want to talk. Just fuck,” he says. “Easiest job I’ve had all week. A thousand bucks to get you here, and now I get to walk away.”

“You son of a bitch,” I hiss. “I will fucking destroy you.”

“Not really a possibility, especially with what they’re about to do to you.” He grins and runs a finger down the front of my shirt. “Too bad you got caught in their crosshairs. We would’ve had a lot of fun together, Jack.”

“If I ever find you, I will?—"

“Trust me,” he says. “You won’t ever see me again.” Then he turns and walks out the door without another word or look at the fucking biker gang surrounding me.

“What do you want?” I bite out the words, my heart thrashing in my chest.

“We came to deliver a message, pretty boy,” Baldie grunts, flexing his fingers and cracking his ringed knuckles. He pounds a fist into his opposite palm, lips twitching. “You were stupid to think you could just walk away. Now you’ve got a big fucking debt to pay, and it’s time to collect.”

TEN

carter

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