Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 45135 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 226(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 150(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45135 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 226(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 150(@300wpm)
He just had his own issues to work through, and getting involved with a woman, especially a club whore, was far down on his list of priorities.
He took a shot for the road and headed down the hallway to the room he was crashing in for the night. Once the door was shut behind him, he got undressed and headed into the bathroom, cranked on the shower, and stepped in before it warmed up.
Shorty braced a hand on the wall, closed his eyes, and breathed out. He thought about having a woman pinned down beneath him, seeing her wide eyes staring up at him as she didn’t know what in the fuck was going to happen.
She’d slap him, bite him, give him hell, and he’d relish all of it, fucking get hard because of it.
And then he felt his dick get hard as those visions played through his mind. He didn’t doubt he could find a willing woman at the club to slap and hit him, to act like she didn’t want it. But that wouldn’t get Shorty off.
He liked giving pain, but also liked receiving it. It’s what made his blood rush through his veins, what had also made him tick. He was fucked up, he knew that, but he’d accepted it, as well.
Grabbing his dick had a harsh groan leaving him. In his mind he envisioned the stinging slap across his face. He’d lean down and lick her tears away, hear her moan, because deep down she’d want him, want whatever he gave her.
Shorty wasn’t a rapist, would never force himself on a woman, but someone that enjoyed the kind of serious, hardcore play he liked was far and few in between. A woman might act like she enjoyed it, but deep down she wouldn’t.
He squeezed his cock as he stroked himself, pain moving through his dick and right up his spine. The pain felt good, made him harder. Shorty started jerking off like a madman, bringing his fist down to the base of his cock right before sliding it back up to the tip.
He added more pressure to his dick, the pain and pleasure mixing as one. He felt his orgasm rush forward. The pain had his balls drawing up tight and a hiss leaving him, but fuck, did it feel good.
He braced his forearms on the tile and breathed out, just letting the water beat down on his back.
Yeah, Shorty was one fucked up asshole.
21
Nando sat in the plastic chair in front of the window of the motel room he’d rented out for the night and stared at the Bleeding Mayhem clubhouse.
He was using a long-range scope, the smoke from the cigarette hanging from between his lips wafting around him.
The only security detail he saw were the two guys standing on the other side of the gate bullshitting with each other. These men were either careless and stupid, or thought they didn’t need the protection.
Maybe they didn’t. It wasn’t like they were a crime family, or part of an elaborate operation that needed around-the-clock security. All they had was some fucking gate that went around the perimeter of the clubhouse, as if that could keep someone out if they really wanted to get through.
He watched them for ten more minutes before putting down the scope and rifle and leaning back in the chair. Nando finished off his cigarette, rubbed the butt out on the bottom of his boot, and felt adrenaline course through his veins.
He was good at his job, good at tracking and hunting. It might not be the most law-abiding work, but Nando knew when it came to staying afloat, he had to do what was required of him.
And what was required of him to do to this fucking MC looked like it would be easy pickings.
22
Angelina was still thinking about the dinner they’d just finished and what they’d talked about as she cleaned up. This felt so … domestic, yet at the same time it kept her mind from wandering and her hands busy.
Even though there was so much hanging over her—Fury planning on killing her father, her giving up a location where her father most likely was, and recently finding out her brother was dead—all she could think about was Fury.
The way he touched me.
The feeling of his hands on my body.
The fact I’ve never been so aroused with another man.
And the way he’d made me come.
She braced her hands on the sink, breathed out, and closed her eyes. He’d left dinner and gone to take a shower, and she’d been thinking about what he looked like without clothes on, how powerful he’d look totally naked, and how she felt so small and feminine in his presence.
Exhaling once more, she turned from the sink and headed down the hallway to the bedroom. She should just go to sleep, and she hoped her dreams wouldn’t be filled with images of all the filthy things Fury could do to her.