Page 2 of Mine to Claim

Well, fuck me sideways.

How’d he know that? I hadn’t noticed him lurking around.

Guess I was too busy rutting.

An accountant had also beat the odds out here. We met by chance, just passing through. He gave my package a look and offered himself for the night in exchange for the meat I was getting ready to roast.

Sex is rare and fleeting out here. A form of currency.

So I did him twice that night and once more come dawn. We parted ways with no drama.

My molars grind. This kid’s been close enough to hear every nasty detail, yet evade me noticing him.

Fuckin’ hell.

How long’s he even been tracking me?

I grind my teeth, shoulders squaring on instinct. I’ve never appreciated being stalked. “You watch me, kid?”

His Adam’s apple bobs, his neck reddening even more.

My cock starts to swell a bit and I give his lean frame another look. His offer’s not a bad one, and his audacity intrigues me. Even embarrassed, he holds my gaze like a defiant little shit.

Not gonna lie, love the fact he watched me dominate the accountant. Railed that hole real good.

“Liked what you saw?”

He huffs, the little snarl in his lips coming back, as if trying to act repulsed. Only, the dark blush betrays him.

I tilt my head. “How old are you—eighteen?” Maybe older.

His eyes narrow. “Old enough to not wanna starve to death.”

I nod and smirk, amused I struck a nerve. Scratching my stubbled jaw, I consider his proposition.

My gaze trails over his lean frame, lingering on the corded muscle in his arms, the sharp cut of his cheekbones. A spark of heat ignites in my core. Claiming him fiercely, rutting into tight, young heat . . . it’s an appealing thought.

Too appealing.

I tamp the ember down. Business first.

“Here’s the deal. I tap that tonight, you get fed. Weapons stay outside. You stay ’til morning, got it? No garroting me in my sleep.”

His lips pinch thin, but his traitorous stomach rumbles loud enough to wake the dead. We’ve got an accord. That blade vanishes behind his back, smooth as silk.

Consider me impressed.

I gesture left with my chin. “That way, you walk in front. I’ll steer us straight. At the door, strip and ditch your shit. I’ll whip up some chow after.”

He scowls and stalks off, back rigid with annoyance. Probably hates me calling the shots. But I didn't get this far by being reckless.

I trail a pace behind, eyes drawn to his shoulders' lean strength beneath the frayed shirt. His worn jeans pull taut over a trim ass as he walks. I imagine grasping those slim hips, rutting into his. . .

I shake my head.

“What's your name, kid?” I ask, tamping down the urge to satisfy my hunger a different way.

“Devon.” He bites as those intense eyes rake the empty street, aware and calculating.

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