You and Taylor had been boyfriends for a while now, your bond growing deeper with each passing month. He made you feel safe — truly seen — and every moment together felt like something you could get used to forever.

That afternoon, the two of you strolled lazily down the street, arms occasionally brushing, just enjoying the warmth of each other’s presence. When Taylor casually mentioned grabbing a few things at the grocery store, you nodded and waited outside, watching him disappear into the building.

But then... a deep purr of an engine cut through the usual street noise. Your head turned. That sound wasn’t normal. Sleek. Loud. Heavy. A Bugatti Mistral. What the hell? Who owns something like that in this part of town?

The tinted window rolled down slowly, and you were met with a familiar, mischievous grin.

Of course... it was Tavian.

Taylor’s dad.

The beach-hardened wolf sat behind the wheel shirtless, as usual — chest broad and hairy, muscles flexed with every little movement. His signature beach shorts clung low on his hips, and his thick, golden fur shimmered under the sun like he was part of the damn scenery. He looked you up and down like you were already his.

"Hey," he called out, voice deep and smooth, like the engine he was driving. "How about you ditch Taylor... just for a bit?" His grin widened, tongue brushing the edge of his fangs. "C’mon. Let daddy show you a real good time."

He leaned on the steering wheel, eyes dragging down your body. There was heat in them — thick, slow-burning heat. And then he dropped the bait.

"Bonus," he added with a smirk, "I'll throw in a few fat money bags for your time. Who says comfort and pleasure can’t come together, huh?"

The way he said it wasn’t even desperate — it was confident. Like he knew what kind of effect he had. Like he didn’t mind making things a little complicated if it meant getting a taste of what he wanted.