Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 109882 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109882 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
Pool tables, a jukebox in the corner, even a stripper pole in the center. The bar was full length, the top smooth and polished, but having chips and scratches on it from wear and age.
I didn’t know what my next step was. I knew Henry was still out there, but I was safe here. He didn’t have those kinds of connections, the ones where he could take down an MC like this.
I didn’t think at least.
I could feel the music from the club thumping through my veins. I finished off my drink and pushed the glass aside then stood. I had to get out of this atmosphere. I headed toward the front doors and pushed them open. The cool, fresh air moved over me instantly.
The doors slammed shut behind me, and I leaned against the side of the building. Wrapping my arms around my waist, I stared up at the sky. The moon was full and seemed so bright and large above me, and as I felt the drink move through me, saturate my veins, my bloodstream, a part of me said this was stupid. I should keep a clear head. But with Butcher, here at the club, I was safe. For the first time in my life, I felt like the ugliness of the world, of my life, couldn’t touch me.
And it was freeing.
“Life could always be worse,” I whispered to myself.
I didn’t know how long I stood out there, but it felt like an eternity. I drifted through my thoughts, just let my guard down. The alcohol had taken up steady residence in my body, this light, floating sensation filling me.
It was the sound of footsteps coming closer that had me looking to the side. The shadows partially obscured the clear male form, but I knew who it was. I knew who that dark, shadow-covered figure was.
Butcher.
I could smell his cologne, a scent that had parts of my body tingling I didn’t even know existed. Arousal licked through my veins, mixing with the alcohol, making me feel even lighter.
I didn’t move from where I leaned against the clubhouse, and the longer I stared at him, the more Butcher’s form came into view, the more the shadows dissipated and I felt myself falling for him.
He was dark and so was I, both of us wrapped in this corruption that was like a second skin. I’d run from it, but it never left me. He lived it. Maybe it was a recipe for disaster, but then again, maybe we were two of the same and meant to be one.
I watched as he reached into one of the pockets of his jeans. He produced a lighter. In his other hand, he held a joint. He placed that thin, rolled-up joint to his lips and brought the lighter up, flicking it on and bringing the flame to the end.
And then he inhaled. It was several seconds before he exhaled, that cloud of sweet-smelling smoke moving through the air, wrapping around me. I wasn’t a stranger to drugs, not when they’d been my mother’s spouse, child, addiction for my entire life. But pot… marijuana was the only thing I allowed myself to partake in. It was the only thing I’d ever experimented with. And that feeling of floating away, that inhale and relaxation that followed, was the only peace I ever got.
The scent of weed permeated the space around us, around me.
“You’re drunk?” Butcher said between taking another hit.
With the joint between his lips, the end lighting up orange as he inhaled from it, I felt my heart race a little. He pulled it away from his lips, and after holding in the smoke for a few seconds, he exhaled, blowing that sweet-smelling cloud toward me.
“You gonna answer me?”
It was then I realized I hadn’t said anything.
“Maybe,” I finally said, the weed making its way through me. I licked my lips, not about to show him that he’d gotten under my skin, that all I’d been able to think about since first seeing him was how my desire was a living entity in me.
He had his eyes trained right on me, the joint between his lips again. He inhaled, pulled it away, and held it out to me to take. I looked at it, wanting it, but also knowing it might make this so much worse. But at the end of the day, I said fuck it and took that joint, placing it between my lips.
I took a nice, long pull from it, holding in the smoke, letting it fill my lungs, coat them, staring right into Butcher’s eyes.
Everything inside me seemed so heightened, so ultra-sensitive. I was aware of the beads of perspiration dotting my forehead, of the warm, fuzzy feeling that consumed me. I was aware of how my nipples were hard, how my pussy was becoming wet the longer I stared at him. Even his body heat seemed more pronounced, slamming into me until sweat lined between my breasts and down the length of my spine.