Lynx (Wild Wolves MC #1)

1. Morgan

MORGAN

Four Months Ago

“Really?” Ash stops about twenty feet from the pub, forehead scrunched. “Here?”

“Yes, here.” I get why he’s hesitant. The music and noise coming from the White Hart is loud and raucous, people spilling out from the overcrowded insides. It’s not usually this busy when we come for a pint, but tonight’s different.

Tonight, the White Hart and the Old Bell across the road are holding a fundraiser for the local animal shelter. Normally we’d avoid it like the plague, but it’s been a shit week, and I needed to get out of the house for a bit.

So naturally I dragged Ash along with me. That’s what best mates are for.

He stops just outside the doors as a massive cheer erupts from the pub opposite. We both turn to look, along with half the people around us. Bodies fill the beer garden, the familiar leather cuts of the Wild Wolves standing out among everyone else.

It’s a captivating sight, and we stare for a beat too long before Ash nudges me and we go inside.

It’s hot and sweaty, the bar packed, and it takes us way too long to get served. “Order some shots.” We’ll probably regret it later but I don’t really give a fuck.

They go down easy, way too fucking easy, and it feels like the next few hours pass in the blink of an eye.

By this time, we’ve migrated outside for some fresh air.

We’re not alone out here, but the few scattered people are nothing compared to the party still raging over the road.

I can’t decide whether it looks like the best time ever or a nightmare.

We watch as two guys kiss against the side of the pub.

It’s passionate and raw, like they don’t give a shit who’s watching, and a pang of jealousy hits me square in the chest. It’s been ages since anyone kissed me like that.

“We could go over there,” I muse, unable to look away. The jealousy slowly slides into longing and I’m taking a step forward before I realise.

Ash catches my arm. “Are you insane?” He pulls me back hard enough that I stumble into him, laughing when I lose my footing and take him down with me.

“Wanker,” he huffs as I land on top of him, but then we both crack up and it’s a good few minutes of breathless laughter before we manage to get upright again. “I need a piss after that.” He sets his glass on a nearby table and disappears back into the pub, weaving as he goes.

I go to sit at the picnic bench and almost miss the bench entirely. Fuck me, I didn’t think I was that drunk.

It hits me as soon as I sit down that I also need a piss. The thought of going back into the hot, sweaty pub holds exactly zero appeal so instead I wander around the back of the pub into the trees behind it.

It’s darker than I expected, and I have to concentrate hard to avoid taking a header into the undergrowth. I’m too busy watching my feet and end up going further into the trees than planned, but I’d rather not get caught and arrested for pissing in a public place.

It’s a beautiful night, though, and after I’m finished, I walk to the edge of the tree line but don’t head back to our table. It’s quieter here, even though I’m not that far away from the pub, the sounds seem muted somehow.

A twig snaps somewhere behind me, and I realise with a jolt that I’m not the only one out here. My skin prickles with awareness, but for some reason I’m not scared. Maybe that’s the alcohol talking, but instead of hurrying back inside, I casually lean against the tree next to me and wait.

It doesn’t take long until I see someone stumbling through the trees. It’s too dark to see their face clearly, but they’re tall and broad and definitely male. My stomach tightens as he comes to an abrupt halt about fifteen feet away and his head snaps up.

He’s got his hood up, so I can’t see his eyes, but I feel his gaze on me. Feel it taking me in from head to toe and back again.

“Who the fuck’re you?” The words slur a little, like maybe he’s as drunk as me.

“Who’re you ?” I ask instead of answering because I’m not giving my name to a fucking stranger, no matter how hot my drunk self thinks he might be.

He grunts and copies me by leaning against the tree beside him, then crooks his finger, beckoning me over.

Not a chance.

“Come here,” he drawls, and I have zero intention of obeying, but there’s something in his voice that seeps into me, all warmth and invitation, and my body moves like it’s on autopilot.

When I’m within arm’s reach, he wraps his hand around mine and tugs me hard enough that I fall forward into his very fucking solid chest. I let out an oomph , but words catch in my throat as he buries his nose in the crook of my neck and inhales.

“Fuck, you smell good,” he murmurs, sending a shiver through me.

Man, that voice.

All sexy and rough and promising bad, bad things. I tilt my head to the side, closing my eyes as he starts to kiss his way up the side of my neck. The sharp sting of teeth makes my breath catch, but my cock’s getting harder by the second, so I guess I like it.

Who knew?

He slides smooth hands over my jaw, his hot mouth finally finding mine, and it’s like the world around us stops. The noise from the pub, the trees around us, everything fades into the background as I close my eyes and feel .

I’m lost to the way he tilts my head, the soft scratch of stubble against my lips, and the teasing stroke of his tongue as he kisses me so thoroughly that I don’t think it’s the alcohol making my head spin.

He turns us and pins me against the tree. I’m helpless against the groan that bubbles out of me, or the need to press my body into his and find some friction for my poor neglected cock.

I’m met with an answering hardness as I lean into him, and it feels so fucking good to grind into it that I moan again and again, not caring how desperate I sound.

It almost hurts to pull away so I can breathe, but then he’s back to kissing my neck, my throat, pulling my T-shirt aside so he can graze his teeth along my collarbone.

I never thought I’d be into a little pain with my pleasure, but I am.

I so fucking am.

He grabs my thigh, hooking my leg over his hip to get a better angle, and I cling onto his shoulders.

Maybe it’s the thrill of doing this with a complete stranger, in the woods of all places, but embarrassingly quickly I feel the telltale swell of pleasure deep in my belly.

It builds with each dirty grind of our hips, each hot, wet kiss he leaves on my skin, until I’m rocking into him chasing the hottest orgasm I can remember having when no part of me is even naked.

Wave after wave of searing heat flows through my body. I’m dimly aware of a sharp sting at the base of my throat and then cool air hits me as he suddenly jumps away from me.

“ Fuck .” It’s the only thing he says before turning and bolting into the night.

It takes a good few seconds for my brain to come back online, and then the gut-wrenching sting of rejection hits me hard.

I’m too drunk to make sense of what the fuck just happened, but I know it’s made me feel shit enough that I don’t want to feel it one second longer.

I clean myself up the best I can and stumble back to the pub, where I find Ash and enough alcohol to forget that any of the last ten minutes actually happened.