Asher
When one of my contacts had informed me that he had seen Cynthia and the other cheerleaders being led into a seedy bar by their coach, I had hoped that person was mistaken.
Cynthia had assured me the swimsuit contest was taking part at a nice restaurant, and I didn’t wanted to doubt her.
But to be safe, I had to check out the bar anyway.
As soon as I walked into the bar, I spotted Cynthia on the bartop in nothing but her sexy bikini, her face pale with fear. She looked at me, but then away quickly, as if ashamed.
She had lied to me – about the restaurant, and about the swimsuit she had chosen to wear.
My every impulse wanted me to jettison forward and snatch her off the bar, to snap my teeth at any and all who attempted to look at the bare, beautiful skin she had on display
