I jerk at the cuffs again. “Mac, let me go!”
“Weren’t you just yellin’ outside how if I shoot you, then I wouldn’t get to fuck you?”
I roll my eyes. "Doesn't mean I'm happy about it. Or that I want to do it for two hours." It’s all bullshit.
Well, mostly.
The idea of that much time, of being his—belonging to him—makes my mouth feel like the damn desert, and my thighs clench until they resemble rocks.
The corner of his eye twitches and he stands, taking his shotgun with him to the counter without another word. “Nah, just want some dumb bitch to ride your cock.”
Great, now I feel like a jerk.
I run my thumb along the worn grain of the wood table and bite my bottom lip as guilt gnaws at my insides. “I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful.”
Mac doesn’t say anything. He just comes back and slides a plate with chunks of brown, juicy meat in front of me. "Bon appétit."
Damn him.
I've been craving meat like crazy. My stomach's practically howling. I exhale and groan, shoulders slumping. "Fine. Two hours."
I grab a steaming hunk and stuff it into my mouth, deciding right then and there that however many fucks he can fit in two hours will be totally worth it.
God, this is delicious.
“Gimme that.” Mac pulls the plate from me as I whine in protest, then proceeds to cut the chunks into smaller bits before pushing it back. “Don’t need you choking on anything other than my cock.”
I swallow hard.
Is that something he plans to do during our two hours?
I’ve never had a . . . a dick in my mouth.
Fuck me.
What did I just I agree to?
“Maybe keep that comment to yourself?”
After picking back up my fork, I take another bite.
Mac watches me for a bit before deciding to eat his soup. “Weather sucks. You got enough supplies?”
I nod.
“And don’t let me catch you fucking some dumb whore who strolls into town again. Not like I can go buy more bullets.”
“I learned my lesson.” Only, when I look up, I have to press my lips together and fight the twitches at the corners of my mouth to keep from laughing at the way he’s almost stabbing the hot liquid in his bowl.
Never seen someone eat soup angry.
Almost as if he’s . . . jealous.
My pulse quickens ever so slightly, and there’s this weird flutter in my stomach. I rub my neck, which suddenly feels hot. "Thanks for saving me. Should’ve said it sooner."
Mac grunts, one hand dropping under the table as he looks down into the bowl of soup. “Won’t be too grateful by the time I’m done with you.”
Chapter 4
