Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 126148 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 631(@200wpm)___ 505(@250wpm)___ 420(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126148 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 631(@200wpm)___ 505(@250wpm)___ 420(@300wpm)
A movement from the back corner of The Barn caught Rook’s attention. Where the steps led up to the second floor meeting room.
Some of his brothers occasionally disappeared up there for privacy with whoever they needed a moment alone with. But it wasn’t one of his brothers coming down those steps. The new prospect Rook sponsored wasn’t alone, either.
Since Crazy Pete’s had been shut down early so all the prospects, new and old, could attend the Christmas party, most were still lingering around The Barn and the bunkhouse. Possum was passed out in a corner half-hidden under the twinkling Christmas tree with a beer bottle still clutched within his fingers. Tater Tot sat on one of the benches in front of the roaring fireplace, a dumb, blank look on his face, like he was spaced out. Or brain dead. Or a little of both.
All night the prospects Rook sponsored had been trolling any female hang-arounds that had showed up earlier since they couldn’t touch the sweet butts.
Since all three men hadn’t been out of the joint for very long, Rook was sure they all were chasing as much tail as they could to make up for the time they hadn’t had any. That was how Rook was every time he got sprung. He would take a week afterward, nailing anyone he could until his balls were so empty, his dick began shooting dust.
Unlike the thick cum that had filled Jet, then dribbled down her creamy thighs, the ones he wanted to take a bite out of. Leave his mark inside her and outside, too.
Fuck.
For once, he’d like to stop thinking about her. Maybe he should go hang with Reilly in his room since she seemed to be the only one to drag Jet from his brain, even if only temporarily.
But first he had to deal with Fitz, now known as Scar, as he hit The Barn’s floor followed by a female who Rook recognized as Angel’s friend. Rook didn’t care enough to know her name yet, but the redhead was turning into a regular hang-around.
“Yo!” Rook shouted at Scar, who stopped in his tracks and so did the chick.
Rook jerked his chin up in an unspoken command for Scar to approach. The woman began to follow the prospect and Rook shook his head.
Scar stopped again and said something low to the woman, who pouted and planted a hand on her hip.
Rook sighed at the attitude. What-fuckin-ever. Hang-arounds were there by invite-only. An invitation that could easily be revoked.
So could a prospect’s sponsorship.
When Scar reached him, Rook growled low, “What the fuck were you doin’ up there?”
Scar tipped his head toward the woman who obediently remained standing where he’d left her. “Was doin’ her.”
“Not up there you ain’t.”
“Got the top of a fuckin’ bunkbed, Rook. Sharin’ a room with four other fuckin’ guys. If I wanted to still do that shit, I’da stayed in prison.”
“Nobody forced you to come here. Offered you a place to land. You don’t wanna be here, then get the fuck out. You wanna stay, then don’t be doin’ shit that’ll get you tossed. ‘Specially since I brought you in. Don’t fuckin’ kick me in the balls ‘cause you’re emptyin’ yours where you shouldn’t be.”
Scar’s deep frown pulled at the thick scar that divided the whiskers on his jaw. “I ain’t allowed to fuck her? She ain’t a sweet butt.”
“Don’t give a fuck that you fucked her, it’s where you fucked her.” Rook jabbed a finger toward the ceiling. “Better not be one fuckin’ drop of jizz on that table upstairs. The exec committee ain’t gonna be happy if they go to have a meetin’ and there’s dried white shit on their precious table. You get me?”
“Yeah,” Scar grunted.
“Our prez also told you to get that teardrop tat removed. You got that scheduled?”
A muscle popped in Scar’s tight jaw. “Yeah.”
With the time Rook spent with Scar on the inside, he was aware the man didn’t like rules. He didn’t like being told what to do. He was also aware that Scar might be an issue. But he figured if the man could make it through his first year being treated like dog shit, he’d be an asset to the brotherhood.
The man was a cold-blooded killer and wouldn’t hesitate to do what he needed to do to save himself or anyone he was loyal to. His loyalty was his best trait. If you had his back, he had yours no matter what. No matter if that loyalty added more time onto his bid. Even so…
Rook hooked a thumb over his shoulder toward the front doors of The Barn. “Again, you don’t wanna do what you need to do, then there’s the fuckin’ door. Warned you even before your ass got here, the first year’s gonna be miserable as fuck. Still better than prison. You got pussy, better food, booze, a way to put scratch in your pocket and, even better, you ain’t getting fucked with by the screws. Should feel like goddamn heaven. So, decide this fuckin’ second and tell me to my face right fuckin’ now: you stayin’ or you goin’?”