Page 44 of Pit Stop

As I put the car in drive, something unfurls within me, my hole growing wet.

Oh fuck.

I thought I had more time.

I grab the steering wheel and breathe deeply through my nose, my entire body starting to tremble.

I need to get home, need to use the toys.

I start to pull out of the lot, but as soon as I do, a cramp hits me and I double over, honking the horn in the process and knocking my glasses off my face.

“Shit,” I moan as I try to gather the strength to move, but I suddenly feel bereft, my hole far too empty, my body in desperate need.

I need fucking more.

I throw the car in park and grab my phone, trying to pull up the names I got the other day, but I don’t want any of them. I don’t want any.

I wanthim.

I groan as I hit his number and nearly cry when it goes straight to voicemail.

I’m going to die. I’m going to fucking die here on the side of the road by the sex shop. This is way worse than the first time. Oh gods.

I pull up Tater’s number and hit call.

Fuck, I hope he answers.

He needs to answer.

“You sure you want me to drop you off here?” Tater asks, looking slightly concerned as he takes in the run-down trailer park.

I’ve never felt such a sense of relief being here once again.

“Yes. Yes, I’m so sorry.”

He shakes his head, breathing through his mouth. I know my scent is having an effect on him, but Tater is a gentleman and there was no way in hell I was calling my brother. Any of them.

No.

“Let me help you out…” he says, getting out quickly and grabbing my bag as another painful cramp hits me.

I groan and lean against the open car door, trying to right myself. Tater pulls me into his arms just as the sound of a motorcycle makes its way down the gravel path.

Another groan slips past my lips as the motorcycle turns off and a growl pierces my ears.

“Get your fucking hands off him.”

“Chill, bro,” Tater drawls. “Just helping him to this place.”

Maverick is next to me in two steps, shoving Tater aside.

“Skye-light,” he whispers and pulls me into his arms as another wave pulses through me.

“Do you need help—” Tater begins but he’s cut off suddenly.

“No. Leave.”

Tater drops the bag and holds his hands up, moving to his car.

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