Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 28170 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 141(@200wpm)___ 113(@250wpm)___ 94(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 28170 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 141(@200wpm)___ 113(@250wpm)___ 94(@300wpm)
Tank’s hand tightened in mine, and a smirk eventually pulled on his soft lips. “Nothing,” he sighed, shaking his head. “Nothing the fuck at all.”
I laughed and ran my bare pussy along his thickening dick. “Then how about a celebratory fuck?”
Tank flipped me on my back, rubbed my clit with his finger, and said, “Best fucking thing to ever come out your pretty-ass mouth.”
So we fucked.
Chapter Three
Tank
Four months later . . .
I rolled my bike to a stop outside the diner and peered inside the long silver trailer. A wide smile greeted me from the nearest window. I flicked my chin and felt that fire rush through my chest, the one I’d felt every fucking day for four months. A minute later the door swung open and a fucking bombshell in a tight pink waitress uniform strutted out of the diner and down the steps that led her to me.
Arms came around my neck and a pair of red lips smashed against mine. “Darlin’,” Beauty whispered against my mouth.
I slapped her ass. “Get the fuck on. We’re riding today.”
Beauty straddled the back of my bike and wrapped her arms around my waist. Her tongue traced the shell of my ear. I tightened my hands on the handlebars as my cock pushed against my jeans. Bitch got me hard every fucking time she touched me.
And she knew it. The woman could be a total cocktease.
I reached behind me and moved my hand straight to her pussy. Beauty moaned into my mouth. I pulled my hand away and made sure her blue eyes were locked on mine as I licked along each finger. She moaned and bit her lip. Grabbing hold of my face, she kissed me hard. “I can never get enough of you.”
I smirked and turned back to my bike. Kicking up the kickstand, I pulled out onto the road, feeling Beauty’s big tits pressing against my back.
She said she couldn’t get enough of me, but I couldn’t fucking quit the woman. Since the night of the bar fight, she’d never left my side. Staying in hickville towns a few weeks at a time, grabbing work where we could, just moving, riding, and fucking. Her and her long-ass red nails had clawed their way into my fucked-up soul.
My woman was going no-fucking-where.
Beauty gripped me tighter as I built up speed, rushing by the bike shop I’d managed to get some work at. It was a shithole, and the bikes that came through weren’t no good to work on. But we’d be out of here soon, off to whatever town we rolled up in.
We rode for an hour, ending up at a rest stop in the middle of fucking nowhere. “I need a piss, darlin’!” Beauty shouted into my ear. I rolled my eyes as she climbed off the bike the minute I stopped and strutted, high heels clicking on the pavement, to the rundown building.
I lit up a smoke and took a drag, then I saw a guy on the other side of the rest stop. He was a big fucker wearing a leather cut, with long dark hair, and a smoke in his hand. He was leaning against a Fat Boy Harley, and I almost got hard at how fucking beautiful that machine was.
Smoke was billowing from the engine. “Fucking cunt!” the guy shouted and threw his cell. It smashed to the floor. I looked over at the bathroom. There was no sign of Beauty. I walked toward the guy and his bike. Out here, there was fuck-all cell service. He was stuck.
And I’d have given my left nut to work on a bike like that.
I was only a few feet away when he pulled a gun, his crazy fucking hazel eyes staring me down. “One more step, Nazi cunt, and I’ll blow a motherfuckin’ slug through your skull.”
As I lifted my hands up, I saw his cut. Fuck. The Hades Hangmen. And not just any member, but the fucking prez of the Austin chapter. The mother chapter.
Psycho cracked his neck from side to side, gun still held out. His eyes never left me as he carried on smoking as if he wasn’t about to kill me on the spot. He flicked the butt to the ground. “Who sent you?” he asked, voice fucking laced with death.
Reaper, his cut read. Reaper Nash.
I kept my cool. “No one sent me. I ain’t with the Klan anymore.”
Reaper raised his eyebrow. “Your ink says otherwise.” His eyes narrowed. “Thought you could get me alone? Could cut me down without my brothers?” He smiled, but it was cold as fuck. He stepped closer and closer until the barrel of his Glock pressed against the middle of my forehead. “Got news for you, Klan fucker. You ain’t gonna kill me. I murder pieces of shit like you just for fuckin’ Sunday mornin’ fun.”