Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 91270 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91270 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Me, I didn’t mind club life. I liked growing up in the club. I liked the camaraderie and brotherhood. But I loved Indy more, and if she moved to hell, then I’d follow her. She was my girl and I’d walk through fire for the rest of my life if I had to.
Until the West Destiny High School shootings, our life had been pretty good. But Travis Hawthorne shooting up our high school set off a string of events that changed everything.
When I shot Travis, I only wounded him. A bullet to the right shoulder stopped him from carrying out anymore of his psychopathic plan. He would live, but it would probably have been better for him if he hadn’t.
Me, I was labeled a hero. Cade fucking Calley—the son of the President of the Kings of Mayhem MC—a fucking hero.
Who would have thought?
For years I was the bad boy of West Destiny High School. The one who would never amount to much. The one who surprised the fuck out of every one of his teachers when he achieved the high SAT scores and got his choice of colleges. All of a sudden, he was the good guy.
At first, my dad was pissed at me for confronting an armed Travis. He said my balls were bigger than my brains and that someday they’d get me shot dead. My mom was furious and called me a stupid asshole. The police were pissed at me, too. They were all right, of course. What I did was stupid. Plain stupid. I was lucky I wasn’t lying in the funeral home.
Three nights after the shooting, the MC decided to celebrate my heroism with a party at the clubhouse. MC parties were legendary. They could go on for days and, more often than not, they got very messy and rowdy.
The afternoon of the party I lay with Indy on her bed in her room. Her mom was at the clubhouse with the other old ladies setting up for the party, while her dad—the club’s VP—was out with my dad.
We spent the afternoon naked and enjoying every inch of one another’s bodies. Looking down at her, I felt so crazy in love with her that I had to make love to her again.
“You’re such a hero,” she teased.
“I did it all for you,” I whispered against her ear. “Because you’re my girl.”
She had snuggled into me, and the familiar smell of her had made all my insides feel warm and happy. She was the light in all my darkness.
“I feel so safe with you,” she whispered.
I cupped her face in my hands. “I’d do everything and anything to keep you safe, baby.”
She smiled and dragged her teeth across her bottom lip. “Tomorrow we start our new life together, college boy.”
I grinned. “Are you sure you won’t come to tonight’s thing at the clubhouse?”
She pulled a face and went rigid in my arms. “No. I’ll let you enjoy that on your own.”
I wish she had come with me to the clubhouse.
Maybe then I wouldn’t have drank too much.
Maybe then I wouldn’t have fucked up our future together.
CADE
Twelve Years Later
Now
Without a word of a lie, I woke up with some chick’s hand on my cock. I was on my bed in my room at the clubhouse, sleeping off an eight-hour ride back from Missouri. Despite a party going on in the clubhouse, I was way too tired to party and wanted nothing more than to be left the fuck alone. Yet, there she was. A brunette with great tits and an even greater ass. Pressing herself all over my body and pushing her hand down my jeans.
“Whoa …” I said, blinking awake.
A surge of pleasure streamed though me—completely involuntary because I wasn’t interested. Except according to my cock I was.
“You like that, Cade?” The brunette asked, squeezing a little tighter. My balls contracted and tightened with a surge of pleasure.
“What do you think you’re doing?” My voice was husky from being in a deep sleep.
“Waking you up.” The brunette looked up at me through thick, false lashes before pulling my jeans and boxer shorts down. She straddled me, her hand firmly gripping the base of my hard-as-fuck cock. She was wearing nothing but a g-string. It was one of those really tiny ones with the thin straps, and I could feel the gentle tickle of her pubic hair through the almost non-existent fabric. And I was wrong—her tits weren’t great—they were fucking amazing.
She started to stroke, and dear God, if she kept that up I was going to blow my load.
Using every ounce of mental strength, I pushed her hand away and she pouted. “You don’t like that, Cade?”
“Ain’t nothing I can’t do myself, sweetheart,” I said. I wanted her off me. Granted, she was hot. But I wasn’t in the mood. Which lasted all of five seconds. Because she grabbed my hand and forced it between her legs, and she was dripping wet. My cock throbbed and begged me to fuck her.