Chapter 92

Summer’s POV

I followed my truck’s GPS up the twisty mountain road, my foot slowly morphing into a lead weight on the gas. Every mile felt like pure agony—my muscles screamed for relief, and I’d have sold my soul for a decent fuck at this point. Finally, I coasted to a stop in front of an unassuming bar with faded neon. Jackpot? More like closed for business. I yanked on the door handle until my shoulders burned, shoved it with my hip for dramatic effect, then peered at the sign: CLOSED.

Hell’s bells.

I glanced up at the dusty windows above the bar and realized someone lived there. Landlord arrangements aside, I needed a cock, and I needed it now. So I pounded on the door like a misbehaving toddler denied candy.

Hard.

My knuckles throbbed, but desperation is an excellent motivator. It was early morning—seriously early—but I was praying for any breathing, cock-bearing creature to answer. My body throbbed like a snare drum at a rock concert, and I