Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 81021 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81021 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
“Fuck that,” the first prospect says. “What the fuck, man?” His arms go up to protect himself as a long, powerful stream of piss hits his face. “You’re fucking crazy.”
Lucky says nothing, just moves down the line, pissing on all three men until he’s empty. Finally, he tucks himself in and stops beside me. “That’s for what you did to my garage.”
“Your garage?” Nogales laughs and looks up at me. “You assholes letting a probie run shit now?”
He wants me to lose my cool, but I refuse. I step in front of him and raise my foot, giving him a size-twelve boot to the face.
“Unlike you and Hector, we value our prospects and the work they do to help the club be something you constantly envy and try to take down.”
“Fuck you.”
“It must really fuck with your head to see how big we are while every night you go to sleep dreaming you were us and knowing you will never be. No matter how many prospects you send, no matter what fucked up scheme you come up with, you will never, and I mean never, beat us.”
“Wanna bet?” The prospect sneers at me, but it fades quickly when Lucky takes a step in his direction.
“Another word and I might muster up a shit for you.” His intimidating glare is enough to shut him up for good.
“Get the fuck outta here,” I yell. “Enjoy your last few days on earth, assholes.” I watch with glee as all three cowards scamper away, reeking of piss and cigarette smoke and the pile of garbage they were sitting on.
When he’s too far away to take another punch, Nogales turns back to me. “This ain’t over.”
“No,” I agree. “But it will be. Soon.” That’s a promise I fully fucking intend to keep.
After another beer, I go to the Reckless Souls clubhouse to get some sleep in the spare rooms we keep there when we need to tighten club security. The place is mostly empty tonight, which means it’s also quiet, and that gives me plenty of time to think.
About Kelsey and her tight pussy, those perky tits I’ll probably never get to see naked and free while she rides my cock. About those big blue eyes filled with fear when Nogales and his boys manhandled her and her friend. About the way my dick hardens just at the thought of her.
It’s too bad, really, because she’s one hell of lay. But it’s also a good thing that I won’t see her again. Kelsey is probably a college girl, shit, she’s only twenty-one. Might even live with her parents. Looking for a diamond ring and a white picket fence, all the things I want no part of and definitely not now. My life is too fun, too free to fuck it up over a woman.
Especially a rich woman. Yeah, the real diamonds sparkling in her ears, the way that red leather hugged her curves marked it as real too. Everything about her screams rich girl, and that means she’s off-limits. Out of my league.
Trouble in three-inch stilettos.
It’s best that I push all thoughts of Kelsey from my mind, and I will. After a quick tug on my cock in the shower. Yeah, a quick jerk to Kelsey’s scent still on my fingers, and then off to bed.
Tomorrow, planning how to take down Iron Kings is what I’ll be thinking about.
Not Kelsey.
Not getting my dick wet again.
Just pure, sweet, fucking vengeance.
Chapter Seven
Kelsey
“You’re up early. That’s good to see.” Daddy’s surprise might have infuriated me a few months ago, but this morning it’s just annoying.
“I have things to do,” I tell him absently as he pours himself a cup of coffee and joins me at the kitchen island, my focus on tracking the path of the car on its way to pick me up.
“It’s about time you showed some initiative, get things done before they become problems.”
“Here we go,” I mutter, but as usual, Daddy only hears who he wants. Himself.
“Responsibility isn’t just about going out drinking and staying out as late as you want just because you can, Kelsey. Seriously, who is going to hire a psychiatrist who can’t even be bothered to get her car serviced?”
He snorts, his disgust evident in the way he practically sneers at me.
I want to lash out at him, to make a list of all his shortcomings as a father, which there are plenty, but I don’t. I won’t because it won’t accomplish anything.
“Those two things have no bearing on one another. Do you know how regularly your accountant gets his car serviced? Whether or not your assistant keeps her yearly gynecological appointment? No, you don’t.”
Daddy’s a hypocrite, lashing out at me because he’s rich and unhappy, just like all his friends.
“We’re not talking about me, Kelsey. You need to grow up and stop partying as if the world is going to end.”