Page 114 of Heart of Frost and Scars

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The wheel vibrates beneath my fingertips as the Bentley slices through the Alaskan wilderness, the tires gripping the road like claws. The sheer intensity of cornering at high speeds, rapid braking, and counteracting these forces makes my dick hard, matching the hungry rhythm of my heart.

Learning to drive checks off a box, a skill we need in this world.

But driving this sexy car? It’s goddamn thrilling.

“Bet you couldn’t take that turn as smoothly as I did.” I meet Leo’s eyes in the rearview.

“Pull over, rimjob,” he shouts over the roar of the wind. “Watch and learn.”

Beside me, Monty assesses every move we make, providing instruction, but only when we need it. His presence no longer chafes. Not right now. All I can think about is the road ahead and the rush of adrenaline as we switch drivers again.

Leo slides into the driver’s seat with practiced ease, his gold and blue eyes glinting with challenge.

The rivalry between us lights a fire in me. But it’s less about besting Leo and more about sharing this experience with him.

We all need something to ground us, something to remind us of who we are and what we’ve accomplished.

For Monty, it’s his car collection, expensive suits, and fine liquors—the proof of his success.

For Leo and me, it’s been survival, scraping by on guts and adrenaline.

But this…this is another level.

By the time we head back to the garage, my entire body buzzes with vitality. I replay the powerful thrusts of speed, the g-forces exerted on my muscles, the scent of burning rubber and exhaust, every twist and turn of the road—all of it etches into my memory.

“Well done, both of you.” Monty steps out of the car, his expression indifferent. “A few more practice runs, and you’ll be ready to take the test.”

As we walk back to the yacht, the sun perches on the horizon, setting the harbor ablaze and wrapping a distant volcano in velvety robes of pink, orange, and purple.

Small boats come and go from the islands. Eagles and gulls worry the air above the fish processing plants. Yet, from the concrete path beneath my feet, this busy world seems at peace.

“Let’s stop in here for a minute.” Monty takes a detour, heading down a narrow alleyway.

I share a look with Leo, my muscles coiling. Is it a trap?

Monty reaches for a door, glancing over his shoulder with a dare in his eyes. Then he steps inside, swallowed by the blast of music and lively conversations within.

I stare at the faded wooden sign overhead.

Tipsy Sailor

“Have you heard from Frankie?” I remove my phone.

“Not since her last message.”

I text her again.

Me: How are you doing?

Frankie: Still talking to Rhett.

Me: Want us to head back?

Frankie: Take your time.

“She’s okay.” I show Leo the messages. “I can’t decide if we should rush back to her or see what this is about.” I gesture at the door.

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