Preppy: The Life & Death of Samuel Clearwater Read Online T.M. Frazier (King #5)

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Angst, Bad Boy, Biker, Crime, Dark, Erotic, Funny, MC, Romance Tags Authors: Series: King Series by T.M. Frazier
Advertisement1

Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 79374 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
<<<<455563646566677585>86
Advertisement2


She was overlooking the bay with her back to me. Her dark hair blowing around in the wind. She turned around to face me just as I got close, her dark eyes softening when she saw me, her smile tugging at the corners of her plump lips. When she spoke it made my heart beat faster and I drifted off into a state of semi-consciousness, surrounded by her words echoing in every corner of my brain over and over again on an endless loop of regret.

Keep me.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

PREPPY

When the doorbell rang I thought it was Billy, who was supposed to be dropping off some fresh blue crab before I headed out to see Dre. I wanted to take her mind off Mirna and what better way to do that than a nice homemade crab dinner, followed by my face between her legs, and my tongue deep inside her pussy, for an undetermined amount of time?

When I opened the door, it wasn’t Billy. It wasn’t even a man. A woman stood on my porch, She had shoulder length bleach-blond hair and she smelled of hairspray. Her glossy lips were painted bright pink. She stared up at me with big golden eyes like she was waiting for me to say something. “You’re the one that knocked on my door, lady,” I said, wondering what the fuck was keeping Billy. The woman adjusted the short sleeved jacket of her white pant suite, gold bangle bracelets slid up and down on her wrist when she moved, clinking together loudly.

When she didn’t say anything and continued to stare up at me, I raised the volume of my voice and spoke slowly, “Can I help you?” I wasn’t even sure if she’d blinked. I knew I was a sight to behold but god-fucking-damn lady, I had places to be. Over her shoulder was a shiny white Cadillac SUV. The front window was tinted dark so I couldn’t see anyone in it, but I could hear the engine running.

The sunlight glinted off of the humungous rock on her left hand and I flinched when the beam of light shot me directly in the fucking eye. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, moving her hand behind her back. “And yes, yes you can help me. Although, the reason I’m here is because I didn’t help you.”

“But let me guess, Jesus can help me?” I asked, leaning up against the door frame. “’Cause I gotta tell you, lady, that you should stop before you even start ’cause you’re waisting your time with me. It don’t matter what kind of god you’re selling today, I’m not buying it. I don’t need to go to church to know I’m a sinner and whatever god up there that might exist is fully aware of who I am and hasn’t struck me down just yet. So the way I see it, me and God have a good thing going and you know how that saying goes, don’t fix it, if it ain’t broken.”

I went to close the door and call Billy to see when I could expect him, when the woman’s hand shot out and grabbed onto it before it could click shut. “Samuel! Wait!” she shouted, and that’s when the recognition slammed into me head first.

It couldn’t be.

But it was.

I opened the door again, taking another look at the woman in front of me. “Mom?”

“Yes, Samuel,” she said with a small smile. Happy I recognized her. “It’s me.”

I’d been angry a time or two in my life. I’d been confused. I’d been hurt. But I’d never been more murderously irate than I was right then. I balled my fists. The heat of my sudden rage threatened to boil me alive. “Get the fuck off my property,” I hissed, taking a step out onto the porch. She had no choice but to drop down to the first step or be trampled. I glared down at her with all the hate that had been festering in my soul for years. “I thought you were dead.”

“I’m not,” she said, her hands shaking.

“Shame.”

“I…I deserve that,” she said, glancing back at the SUV where an older man in a sport coat got out of the car and buttoned his jacket. “Mitch, it’s okay. We’re just talking,” she called out to him.

“No, we’re not. Leave. NOW!” I demanded.

“That’s my husband, Mitch,” my mom said, pointing back to the man.

“You were always good at ignoring me,” I muttered, feeling the pressure build behind my eyes. If she didn’t take my warning, things were going to end badly for her.

“Samuel, I’ll be quick. I promise. Two minutes, that’s all I want,” she said, raising her eyebrows and waiting for me to respond.

“You have one minute.”

She spoke quickly. “I came here because it’s part of my rehab. To make amends with those I’ve wronged and I’ve wronged you the most.”


Advertisement3

<<<<455563646566677585>86

Advertisement4