I’m a grumpy asshole as I stomp around the motel room, packing all my belongings. Yes, including the damn cum covered underwear.
I should have just tossed them in the trash, but the idea of the staff here having access to my alpha’s scent has me raging.
Yeah, it’s official, I’ve totally lost the plot.
“Fuck you.” I curse down at the boxers as I shove them in my backpack.
Throwing the door open, I head down to reception where the same creepy guy is, watching something on his phone.
“You!” I seeth.
His head snaps up, eyes wide. “I didn’t do anything!” He drops his phone as he raises his hands above his head.
“Did you give someone a key to my room?” I glare at the little fucker.
“No,” he says quickly.
“Don’t fucking lie to me.” I slam my hand down on the desk.
“He had a gun. He said he would shoot my dick off if I didn’t give him a key.”
Of course he did. Fucking hell.
“What did he look like?” I demand.
“T-tall. Curly dark hair. Lots of tattoos.”
Tatum. It was fucking Tatum who was in my room. Who smells of pumpkin marshmallows...
I should have known he would be depraved enough to break into my hotel room and wank off into my boxers.
I must be just as fucking bad, because knowing just how fucked up he is has my cock twitching. I need help. Big time.
“Tell me right now why I shouldn’t put a bullet through your fucking head.” I growl, pulling my gun out of the bag and pointing it at his head.
He whimpers and the smell of piss fills the air.
My nose wrinkles and I scoff. “Fucking pathetic.” I shake my head. “I’ll let my father deal with you.”
“F-father?”
Normally, I don’t throw my family name around, but right now I’m too pissed off to care. “Eddy Kennedy.”
His face pales. “I’m so sorry. So, so sorry.”
“You will be,” I snap before shoving the door to the lobby open and heading for my car.
I don’t plan on telling my father, so he has nothing to worry about. The fear alone should have him second guessing before he decides to abuse his position again.
It might be a seedy motel, but people deserve a safe place to go.
The drive back to the mansion is rough. My whole car now smells like Tatum, and I debate opening the window to air it out, or hotbox myself in his scent.
The fucked up part of me picks being drowned in his scent. Of course.
Grabbing my bag, I head inside. It’s not until I’m heading for the stairs that I’m really aware of my surroundings.
It was stupid of me and I pay the price because I almost crash into Ralph.
