Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 76203 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 381(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76203 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 381(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
A hiss escaped him as my hand closed around his cock and my hand was still for a moment, marveling at how my fingers couldn’t quite close around him. Maybe my hands were small. But there was no denying that his cock was huge, either.
Almost as if sensing my thoughts of how he would feel inside of me, his fingers slipped inside, and my walls clenched around them, aching for more fulfillment.
My hand started to work him then, stroking him from head to hilt, and it was like his fingers fell into motion with them, working me how I was working him.
My little whimpers became moans that I muffled with my lips to his neck. His reaction was just catches of breath at first, then a deep, rumbling sound in his chest.
As my hand stroked him faster, his fingers worked me faster as well. Until we were both breathless and lost in the sensations, in the need for release.
Until the orgasm crashed through me, leaving me crying out against his skin, my body shuddering hard.
I was still present of mind enough to keep working him through it.
But the sound of a voice made us both freeze.
Close.
Too close.
“Detroit, where the fuck are you?” Slash called. “Coach is waiting.”
“Fuck,” Detroit said in this pained voice.
Because he was so close.
But he didn’t have time to finish.
He pulled away from me, yanking his hard cock back into his underwear and pants, then looking at me, his eyes heated, yet somehow soft at the same time.
Leaning forward, he pressed a soft kiss to my forehead before getting to his feet.
“Coming,” he called as he zipped up, then reached for his phone.
I’d probably dripped on his clothes, but he seemed oblivious as he moved out of the door, leaving me there, spent, yet somehow disappointed.
Because I wanted to make him fall apart too.
I wanted him to grab me, slam me up against the wall, and surge inside of me.
I wanted to feel him stretch me, move inside me, drive us both toward oblivion together.
If we hadn’t been interrupted, I was sure that was exactly what would have happened.
Taking a deep breath, I moved to stand in the shower, draining the water, and rinsing the soap off of me, then climbing out.
As I stood in the mirror, brushing out my hair and doing my morning skincare, I made a decision.
One that was completely out of character for me.
I was going to seduce Detroit.
I was going to let myself be okay with something casual for once in my life.
Maybe I would regret it.
Maybe I would get my heart broken because I would catch feelings, and outlaw bikers didn’t really do that.
I mean, that’s not fair. They did. Slash, Sway, Crow, and Judge all had. But they did that with kind of exceptional women.
Morgaine, the poisoner.
Delaney, the Irish mafia princess.
Nyx, the goddess bartender at a mafia bar.
And Murphy, the weapons designer.
They were all extraordinary.
I was, you know, just an average girl.
I was okay with being that. I liked who I was. But I wasn’t delusional enough to think that some adrenaline junkie, outlaw biker was going to think I was enough to settle down with.
So I had to accept that I was just going to get something casual out of it while I was staying at the clubhouse.
Even so, I knew myself too well to think I wouldn’t develop feelings.
But I was just squashing those negative thoughts as I got myself dressed, and went downstairs to find Slash standing in the kitchen, pouring a cup of coffee.
“Want some?” he asked.
“Yes, please,” I said, giving him a smile. “Where did Detroit go?” I asked, trying for casual, and having no idea if I pulled it off or not.
“He went to pick up another prospect from the prison,” Slash told me as he handed me my mug of coffee.
They didn’t keep any flavors in the clubhouse. And I was a flavored coffee kind of girl. But I made do with cream and sugar, poorly pretending I wasn’t aching for some caramel syrup or even some of that flavored creamer that comes in like fifty different variations.
“Oh,” I said, surprised, even though I knew they did seem to take their club members from the ex-convicts being released from the local penitentiary.
“His release date was changed,” Slash told me. “We didn’t find out until the last minute,” he added. Like he could read my thoughts. About why Detroit didn’t tell me he had plans. Even though he wasn’t my boyfriend, and he didn’t have to tell me what he was doing with his days. “I hate to break this to you, babe,” Slash said, giving me a wince. “But the peace in the clubhouse is gonna end tonight.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, tensing.
“The guys are going to want to party. Just out of prison and shit like that,” he said.