Cato (Golden Glades Henchmen MC #7) Read Online Jessica Gadziala

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Biker, Mafia, MC Tags Authors: Series: Golden Glades Henchmen MC Series by Jessica Gadziala
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Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 74078 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 370(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
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But yeah, dopamine and all those feel-good hormones were racing through me as I watched him pull off the helmet, revealing light brown hair that wasn’t short, but wasn’t long either, and charmingly mussed from the helmet.

Then he was turning.

And, fuck yeah.

Jackpot.

The guy was smoking hot.

All the typical crap. The chiseled jaw, that kind of broody brow ridge. And, because the world was unfair and guys got things naturally that girls had to fake, he had an abundance of dark lashes around pretty green eyes.

The chances of him being that stupid hot were slim.

I felt like I found a unicorn or something as his gaze moved over me, drinking me in.

I didn’t squirm, didn’t try to hide the fact that I was wearing a bathing suit top like a shirt. This was Miami. It was hot. The beach was all around. Girls liked to show off their bodies. Men liked to look.

I counted on that last part in my line of work.

Sure, my titties were on the small side, but, hey, they were boobs. Guys liked those. And I would unabashedly use them as a form of distraction if I needed to on a job.

I didn’t have a lot to thank my mom for, but her metabolism had served me well. And the whole way her genes made it so when I did put on weight, I did so in my thighs and ass. And thighs and asses were also popular amongst the menfolk.

I was vaguely aware of saying something about him being hot before I pounced on him.

You know… the hormones and all that.

Taking charge, I dragged him down to me, lips sealing to his.

But it was only a few seconds before he was taking over, his lips bruising into mine, his hand reaching out to grab the back of my neck, thick fingers digging in, holding me to him as his lips pressed, his teeth nipped, his tongue explored.

A soft moan escaped me as my hands left his cut and traveled up the slopes of his chest and shoulders, then down the corded brawn of his arms.

Taking his cue from me, his hands started to explore, sliding down my back to sink into my ass, fingers curling in almost to the point of pain, a sensation that sent more pleasure rushing through my bloodstream.

He used his grip on my ass to pull me more tightly against him, all my soft lines yielding to his firm ones.

His cock was pressing against my stomach, hard and yearning, making my sex clench hard at the idea of him inside of me.

Another moan escaped me, less quiet, but muffled by his lips regardless, prompting his fingers to dig in again, but this time, they slipped under the short hem of my skirt, finding nothing but cheek underneath, making me suddenly very happy that I’d recently joined the ranks of women who were comfortable in thong bikini bottoms.

His fingers were surprisingly rough, and the feel of them on my soft skin had another wave of desire moving through me, culminating in an almost painful ache between my thighs, this need for release that felt so acute that it was impossible to ignore.

The biker seemed to sense the shift, the decision being silently made, because the next thing I knew, he was moving me, slamming me hard against the house as his hand slid in between us.

His fingers pressed against the barely-there material between my thighs, and a rumbling sound moved through him.

“Fucking drenched already,” he mumbled against my lips as his fingers slipped inside of my panties and teased up my cleft, finding my clit with a precision that bordered on expert, and starting to work me even as my fingers fisted in his hair, as my lips demanded more from him.

“Fuck,” I hissed as two of his fingers thrust inside me, making a white-hot desire burn through me.

Then my hands weren’t just grabbing his hair, they were pulling, guiding him down until he lowered to his knees in front of me, yanking my panties to the side, and working me with his mouth as his fingers kept fucking me, kept driving me up.

My leg slid over his strong shoulder as I gripped the back of his head, my hips rocking against his tongue as he worked me.

“No, stop,” I said, yanking at his hair, feeling him stiffen, but pull back. And, hey, we had to dig a guy who didn’t even hesitate to move away when they thought consent was being rescinded. “I need to fuck you,” I said, pulling him up.

He looked a little taken aback at that.

It was always fun to catch a hot guy off-guard.

But he reached into his pocket, finding his wallet, and the condom, even as my hands were working at his button and zipper, then reaching inside to free his cock.


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