Dezi (Henchmen MC Next Generation #7) Read Online Jessica Gadziala

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Biker, MC, Romance Tags Authors: Series: Henchmen MC Next Generation Series by Jessica Gadziala
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Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 77715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
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Then, just a few minutes later, there she was. Standing at the top of the aisle with her father.

In a black and white sleeveless gown with, I would see as she got closer, a completely open back, putting that tattoo of hers on display.

Her hair was down.

And while someone had talked her into toning down her eye makeup, she still had her signature red lip going on.

I kinda dug the idea of having that stain all over my face after the kiss, and during the ceremony anytime someone clinked a glass.

“Fucking gorgeous,” I said when she was standing beside me. “You ready for your surprise?” I asked.

“Uh oh. What did you vandalize now?” she asked, giving me a saucy smile.

I nodded toward the kids who were waiting in the wings.

Then they were walking down with their goats. Who had little necklaces I’d fashioned to carry the rings.

“Oh, my God. You didn’t.”

“Hey, your old man bought us the house next door. We have a lot of property to fill up,” I told her.

“Well… that’s true,” she agreed, squatting down to rub the goats’ heads for a long time before she finally stood up so we could get the whole reciting the vows shit over with.

She’d been mine since the moment she’d laid her hand on me.

But now, it was official.

“I know, you want to get onto the food part of the evening,” she said as we walked back down the aisle to the sound of our friends clapping.

“I just want to check things one more time,” I assured her.

“Actually, you have to come with me real quick,” she said, pulling me away at the last moment as we went into the kitchen, leading me into what had to be someone’s office.

But it was set up like a mini dining room with a table draped in linens matching our theme, candles burning, and plates set up.

“What’s this?” I asked.

“My surprise,” she said, giving me a bit of a shy smile as she led me over to a seat, then pressed me down into it.

“What have you been up to?” I asked as she took my plate then moved away to a small table to the side. Where several chafing dishes were set up.

And now that I took a deep breath, I could smell something good wafting over.

“Okay, well, you know the girls night I’ve been having for months and months?” she asked.

“Where you spend five or six hours bragging to them about what an amazing man you have? How handsome and thoughtful I am? And how good I am in bed?”

“Yes, of course. That is all we ever talk about,” she said, giving me a smile over her shoulder as she loaded up my plate.

“It would be difficult to fit anything else in,” I agreed.

“Well, in between the many hours spent lamenting on what a great fuck you are, the girls have been, well, teaching me how to cook,” she said, turning to me with a shy smile.

“They… what?” I asked as she kept moving closer with a plate full of food.

“Don’t worry. I’ve studied really hard. And Gracie told me that I have mastered this meal in particular,” she said, putting my plate down in front of me.

And there it was.

Pretty banging-looking lasagne, mozzarella sticks that looked homemade, and garlic bread.

“Baby…” I said, looking up to find her shifting her feet, clearly feeling vulnerable and unsure of herself.

But… she had been studying to learn how to cook for me. For months.

I don’t think I’d ever felt truly emotional in my entire adult life, but I actually felt a little choked up then as I scooted my chair back so I could grab her and pull her onto my lap.

“I fucking love you, you know that?” I asked, nuzzling my face into her neck.

“You might want to hold back that declaration until you’ve tried the food,” she said.

Sensing she wasn’t going to relax until I did so, though I didn’t give a fuck if it tasted like dirt since it was the thought and effort that counted, I reached for my fork and brought a bit of the main course up to my mouth.

“Fuck,” I said, brows shooting up.

“Is that a good fuck or a ketchup soup fuck?” she asked.

“No, baby, this is a I want to eat all of this, then hop your ass up on this table and eat you out as thanks fuck,” I told her. “You did really fucking good,” I told her, scooping up some for her to try.

“This isn’t all of it, either,” she told me with a smile after she chewed her food.

“No? What else is there?”

“Homemade donuts,” she told me.

“No fucking way.”

“Cinnamon sugar, glazed, chocolate frosted, and jelly.”

“If I hadn’t already locked you down, I’d ask you to marry me all over again.”

“They’re really good. I had to stop sampling them if I wanted to fit into my dress.”


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