"I'll wait."
Those were the last words he spoke to her and he damn right meant them.
Runner fell for the wild beauty that was dragged in by the Riders from the first moment he laid her eyes on her. She was an enemy of the club and he shouldn't but...
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Runner
How many fucking jars does Lysa need? This sure looks like a practical joke. Having me drive Mags around and picking up jars is a peculiar, new torture that I don't like. Or Lysa is as every bit as cunning as I had pegged her to be. We drove to five different places and we still don't have enough of those wretched things! I am going to chop Vik into small pieces and I will stuff him in those like a fucking jam!
But I know it's not Vik and it's not Lysa. It's her. I have to be in the car, right next to Mags and I can't take it anymore. When she walked out in that black midi dress that hugs her body so perfectly, I almost dropped dead. I try to keep away and the SUV is big but not that big. Her scent has filled the cabin and on top of that, I have to help her in and out of the car each fucking time cause she is still struggling with her leg.
Eleven times, I count them. Eleven times I have held her from right under her arms and I had her body slide against mine till she was in her seat or out of it. And the result? I drove around Berkeley with a raging hard-on that is still in full battle mode and refuses to retreat until satisfied. Which is not going to happen. No matter how my stupid brain insists on labeling that one time with Mags the best one ever. This can't be true. I've been with literal professionals and avid amateurs times and times over again. I am not one of those guys that have high expectations because of porn. I live the fucking expectations!
But with her, it was more. So much more. Her body was in tune with mine, responding to my touch, reacting to my want. We moved effortlessly, easily. For the first time ever, I wasn't trying to prove something or merely reaching my high. I wanted to make her feel good and I have never felt more fulfilled than seeing her pretty face melt by the pleasure I gave her.
"Fuck!"
I unglue myself from the SUV and I look inside the place, eager to get this over with. Magda is standing at the counter and is talking to a big motherfucker. She has leaned over the counter with both hands and her ass is slightly in the air in that tight dress which I guess is Ava's idea of a torture. I let my eyes take all her perfection in and like a magnet showing the true north, my dick points in her direction, seriously challenging the makings of my jeans.
Then I see Magda hit her hand on the counter, the man scowling at her and then laugh in her face. Lust steps aside and pure anger shows up. That motherfucker just laughed in my woman's face. What? Correction: that motherfucker just laughed in the face of the woman I am simply accompanying and nothing more. Much better.
I walk up through the open door and I step inside. Magda's voice has turned harsh and I know she is one more word away from pulling that man over the counter and feed him nails. I know what she can do, I have seen it with my own eyes. But she is still hurt and I am not risking this.
"We called and we were told you got those," Magda trembles with anger.
"They could be somewhere in the back but I am not going there just for a jar or two. Not worth my trouble."
