Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 107595 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107595 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
And that was a fucking shame.
But he wondered how long she was staying in town and if he could convince her otherwise.
He slipped his sled into a spot in the next row, dismounted, and wove around a couple of cars to stand behind her.
“Need help?”
She squeaked, dropped the bag she’d been holding and a can of something rolled out, bouncing off his boot. He nabbed it. Cranberry sauce. The jellied kind he loved when his aunt had served it at Thanksgiving.
He hadn’t had it in fuckever.
In fact, he’d love to smear that shit all over the blonde’s huge tits, which looked even bigger in that tight V-neck sweater she was wearing, and lick it the fuck off.
Damn.
No time to get a raging hard-on. She was scared enough.
“That’s a fuck of a lot of food.” She’d already loaded a few plastic bags into the back of the Honda and still had a cartful. Maybe it wasn’t just Daisy and her and she had a big family to feed.
If so, there went his fucking fantasy.
“Y-yes.”
“Feedin’ an army?”
Color rose into her cheeks and he liked seeing it. But the problem was, it wasn’t because she was embarrassed, it was because she still seemed to be afraid of him.
Or at least worried.
Maybe she should be. While he tried to concentrate on her full cart of groceries, he kept imagining what she’d look like naked as she rode his dick, those tits of hers bouncing like two watermelons in the back of an Amish wagon.
Her brow furrowed. “Um... Christmas is coming up.”
That didn’t tell him what he needed to know. “Here to visit with family for the holidays?”
“Y-Yes. Something like that.”
When he held out the can of cranberry sauce to her, he again could see her hand shaking as she reached for it. Instead of letting it go right away, he let his fingers brush hers. She snatched the can from him, quickly breaking the contact.
He jerked his chin toward the cart. “Why ain’t your man here to help you?”
“He... He... He...” Her lips, which would look good wrapped around his dick, pressed flat.
“Got a stutter or somethin’?”
She shook her head. Her next inhale was like watching two huge balloons inflate under her open winter coat. Her expression became painful. “He’s... gone.”
Judge’s brow dropped low. “What d’you mean, gone?”
When her blue eyes hit his they were filled with turmoil and he felt that to his fucking core.
“He’s just gone.”
What the fuck did that mean? “He get the cancer?”
She frowned. “No.”
Judge began to gather the handles of the bags in his fingers until he had almost all of them. He lifted them and set them into the back of her SUV.
“I...” She grabbed two of the last remaining bags and tossed them with the rest. “I need to get back.”
Judge made sure to grab the last one because once all of her groceries were loaded, she had no reason to stay.
And he wasn’t done talking to her yet. He stared at the bottom lip caught between her teeth as she stared at the lone bag in his hand with almost a conflicted expression.
It pissed him off that he’d been nothing but nice to her and her girl and she still acted afraid of him.
Why?
Because he was big? Or because he was a biker?
“I need to go. I have frozen items that...” She plucked the last bag from his fingers, tossed it into the back of her CRV and slammed the hatch shut. She yanked her purse out of the cart, dug her keys out and shoved it securely over her shoulder. Judge did not miss her tucking a key between each finger.
A technique women tended to use to protect themselves when walking alone to their cages.
Was he that fucking threatening?
When she went to roll the cart to the nearby corral, he stood in front of it, blocking her path and putting a hand on it.
“Where’s your girl?”
“She’s... with my sister.”
“That who you’re visitin’?”
“I...” Her eyes narrowed and her mouth got tight. “Thank you for your help. But I have to go.” She released the cart’s handle and went to the driver’s door, climbing in and immediately starting the SUV. “Thank you for putting the cart away.”
Well, damn. “Hey, what’s your name?”
His answer was the door slamming shut. He was still standing behind the cage with the cart, so she couldn’t reverse out of the spot. Instead, she put it in drive and pulled forward through the empty spot in front of her.
“Fuck,” he muttered as she sped away.
He still didn’t know her fucking name, why she was in town or how long she was staying. Instead, he had nothing but an empty cart, that he did not need to haul the single box of wraps he was buying.
A blacked-out Ford F250 pulled up next to him, and the dark-tinted power window whirred down.