Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 94921 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94921 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Jude was the artist.
To her mother, Harlow was the fuck-up, the waste of space.
She’d not been born blonde with blue eyes, and a natural beauty. Her mother had wanted a doll to play with. Harlow had been a tomboy. She preferred jeans to dresses, shorts to skirts, climbing to sitting around the table sipping tea. In a nutshell, she’d been her mother’s worst nightmare.
Seven kids, and all her mother wanted was a pretty little girl, and instead, she got Harlow. A social outcast. No one ever showed up for Harlow’s parties, and as time went by, even she didn’t attend her own parties. There was no point.
She had become vegan to piss her mother off, and had every intention of changing back, but then she stopped missing meat. She felt much better, and she liked being the way she was.
Life after that had gotten hard. Even though her mother had never openly been negative about her appearance and her weight, the sly comments had gotten worse.
“I thought vegans were supposed to be slim.” That was one she got all the time.
“I’m not going to think about home.” Picking up her cell phone, she stared at the screen and sure enough, there was Hunter’s number.
She hadn’t programmed his number into her cell phone, but it was there. She must have left her phone unattended, and he was able to get ahold of it.
Was he just teasing her today at lunch?
Her stomach chose that moment to growl. She was hungry, starving even, but she didn’t have enough money for the fries. It was embarrassing how her life had turned out. She didn’t want to ask anyone for help.
Leaving home, finding an apartment, starting a life for herself was all a rite of passage, everyone did it successfully. She wouldn’t ask for help. Living on her own meant she wasn’t bound by any rules. There was no one to control what she did.
Hunter’s name was like a beckon, a promise, calling to her. She knew getting involved with him would be bad. The consequences were scary, if anyone found out.
Did she want people to know about her crush on Hunter? No.
Did she want to have a relationship with a person everyone knew about? No.
Having a secret affair with Hunter would be easy, wouldn’t it? Yes.
Big Dick didn’t need to know everything that happened in her life.
Nor did Smokey.
Nor did the club.
No one was going to get hurt.
It was just her and Hunter.
Their little secret.
She pressed the call icon attached to his name and placed her cell to her ear. It rang, once, twice, and on the third ring he finally answered.
“I was starting to wonder if you would call,” he said.
She closed her eyes and pressed her thighs together. What was it about his voice? It was deep, guttural, and made her think of all kinds of nasty things he could be doing to her.
“What exactly do you want?” she asked.
Hunter chuckled. In the background she heard noise and figured he was at the clubhouse. He was probably toasty warm, rather than freezing his ass off like her. After several seconds, there was no sound, only silence.
“You know exactly what I want.”
She did.
“What are your terms and how do you want to do this?” She didn’t have a clue what she was doing.
“How about you tell me what your terms are, Harlow, and then we’ll see if we can come to an arrangement?”
This was bad. So very bad. But she just couldn’t stop. They had crossed that line at Christmas and there was no going back.
“I don’t want my brother to find out. Nor do I want Smokey or Raven to know. I don’t want any of the club to know.”
“Agreed. This has to remain a secret between you and me. No one can ever know what we’re doing.”
“That means you can’t come to my place. My brother drops in from time to time.” Not often, but enough for her to not want to run the risk of exposing them.
“I’ve got a place. I’ll take you to it soon.”
“When?” she asked.
“Next Friday. There’s a party at the clubhouse. A lot of brothers are going to be here as are a lot of women. My presence is not needed and it will be the perfect opportunity for us.”
Next Friday was a long way off.
“It gives you time to think this over.”
“Why?” she asked.
“I’m not offering you forever, Harlow. I’m not even offering you much of anything. Sex, fucking, that’s it. The use of my dick is all you get. Nothing more, nothing less. I don’t do sweet, cute, or nice. I will not be a hero in your world. I won’t be anything. You cannot rely on me. Don’t think this will end in marriage, it won’t. I don’t do love. I’m not in love with you. I don’t have any feelings for you at all.”