Total pages in book: 154
Estimated words: 148220 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 741(@200wpm)___ 593(@250wpm)___ 494(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 148220 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 741(@200wpm)___ 593(@250wpm)___ 494(@300wpm)
I still want a taste. But next time, there won’t be any roofies involved. And I’m sure as hell not going to forget everything I do to her.
She won’t forget it, either. Because she didn’t fake everything when I was kissing her. I’m certain of that. Just like I’m certain she won’t fake a thing when I’m with her again.
And she knows it. Yeah, she does. Like now, when she turns away from Handlebar’s stall holding her tray of vitamins—only two little cups left, one for me, one for Tusk. There’s a moment every time her eyes meet mine when that emerald goes so dark, when she bites her lip before remembering to smile bright and wide. When her gaze slips down over my chest, and for an instant she looks so damn hungry that her mouth might as well already be on my dick, it stiffens up so quick.
That’s not just her being a good nurse and giving me a visual examination. That’s want. That’s need.
So maybe I did give her something to remember that night. Maybe I licked her pussy like she was made of sugar. Maybe I fucked her real good.
All I know is, we’ll be doing it again. Soon.
“You’re looking well today,” she says—and I love her voice. A little sweet, a little husky, it finishes the job that her eyes started, bringing my dick to full mast. Not that she can see her effect on me now, while I’m standing close to the bars. But I’m so damn hard, I could drill a hole through the wood making up the bottom half of the door. “How are you feeling?”
“Like I won’t be sorry if I never hear ‘Candle In The Wind’ again. But also real glad they don’t play the Princess Di version, because that shit makes me cry like a baby.”
Her smile compresses into a little grin, as if she’s trying not to laugh. “And how are you feeling physically?”
“Damn good.” Gripping the bars, I let my gaze slide from her eyes to her mouth to her tits. “Like if I had a nurse in here with me through the night, I’d probably make her come four or five times.”
“Only four or five?” Her eyebrows arch. “So you’re feeling weak, then? I’ll make a note in your chart.”
Shit. I do like this girl. And I fucking hate the bastard who steps forward, making the amusement in her smile vanish into that bland, bright curve again.
I don’t look at him. “I don’t need a wingman, Vic.”
“Just answer the nurse’s question, Mr. Wall.”
Mr. Wall.
So he knows my name.
That shit shrivels my dick, but I don’t even blink. “Pretty sure I already did answer her. Since I’m not playing in your little Cage, all that matters to Cherry here is whether I’m in fine enough shape to fuck. And I am, darlin’. Any time you like.”
But I can’t even get a smile out of her now. Not a real one. Just the one she gives everyone else—and even that falters when Victor starts talking again.
“Anna Wall lives on Newberry Road outside of Pine Valley, Oregon. Paul and Clara Wall on Walnut Street, also in Pine Valley.”
Just hearing those names out of his mouth wraps barbed wire around my heart. Cherry’s eyes squeeze shut, her expression a picture of dismay.
But me? They aren’t getting anything out of me. Because the one thing I’m certain of is that the Hellfire Riders are looking out for Anna, for my parents.
Carelessly, I shrug. “Is that supposed to mean something to me, Vic? Because it don’t.”
“You need to change your mind, Mr. Wall. Our associates do not take refusal lightly.”
“Yeah, and you need to stop this cockblocking shit and move out of the way so my girl can give me some vitamins.”
“You have two days to give a different answer. Think it over.”
“I’m not real big on thinking. So how about taking a ‘no’ right now. And tossing a ‘fuck no’ on top, just for shits and giggles.” I look to Cherry, whose eyes are dark emerald pools. “So come on up here and give me some of that sexy Vitamin C, girl.”
She moves closer, her voice a trembling whisper barely discernable over the music. “I’m so sorry.”
“Nah. You ain’t got nothing to be sorry for.” My family’s just fine. I pluck the little paper cup off her tray. “And when I bust out of here, I’m taking you with me. How about that?”
That sweet, nervous little smile appears again. “You’re a good man, Stone.”
I’m not.
But I like it when she looks at me as if I am.
9
Apparently no one cared enough about Lissa’s death to pass on the news right away that she was dead, because a week goes by before they stop sending her meals. We don’t cook here in the barn. Instead the meals are delivered daily from the farmhouse in neatly wrapped individual trays, each one labeled for each fighter, the macros and calories calculated according to their weight.