Q – Satan’s Fury MC Read Online L. Wilder

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Biker, MC, Romance Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 75152 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
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“Better today than yesterday.” I took a sip of my beer, then added, “I got a dog.”

“That should make life interesting.”

“No doubt.” I looked over to Rooster and was pleased to see that, like me, he was back on his feet. “How about you? You making it alright?”

“Better than ever.” He snickered as he said, “Our girl Ariana has been taking good care of me. She’s been tendin’ to all my needs.”

“I bet she has.”

“It’s been all good, except she has this thing for doing it in the shower.” He grimaced as he explained, “It’d be one thing if there were multiple shower heads and everybody got plenty of hot water, but that shit doesn’t ever happen. My ass is always in the back where there’s just a trickle.”

I thought back to my shower with Jules, and Rooster wasn’t wrong. It was a little cold, but Jules kept me plenty warm. So, I kept my thoughts to myself and waited for him to finish his rant.

“Now, don’t get me wrong. It’s hot as fuck to see a sexy beast like Ariana naked with water streaming down her.” He used his hands to demonstrate. “But damn. My balls have never drawn up so tight, like a pup left out in the cold. Sitting there shaking and begging to be let in where it’s warm.”

“Sounds like a real problem you’ve got there.”

“Yeah, I’m thinking I need to get a prospect to put in some more shower heads.”

“Might not be a bad idea.” Before Rooster had a chance to carry on any further, I turned back to Cotton and asked, “Have there been any new leads with our friends?”

“Not a damn thing.” Cotton shook his head. “I got a bad feeling about all this. We might have a real fight on our hands—one like we’ve never had before.”

“Then, we’ll fight. We’ll fight with everything we have because nobody takes down Fury. Not now. Not ever.”

JULES

"Jules!"

"Yeah?"

"Your dog has been at it again!"

I knew the second he called Roscoe my dog, he’d done something terribly wrong. It was the only time he didn’t refer to him as our dog. We’d only had him for a couple of weeks, and for the most part, things had gone well. He was quick to learn the whole potty-training thing, and he liked his kennel, but he was deep in that puppy chewing phase.

He'd gnaw on anything from slippers to Christmas tree ornaments, but most of all, he loved Quinton’s things. So I wasn't surprised when I walked into the bedroom and found Quinton sitting on the edge of the bed with one of his boots in his hand. The laces were chewed up, and the heel was gone, and my sweet Roscoe looked as guilty as could be as he crouched under the bed. "Looks like someone forgot to put their shoes in the closet."

"Um, noo.” He raised his brow with indignance. “It looks like someone still hasn't trained their dog."

"He’s our dog, and I’ve been working on it! He knows not to go in the closet, but things left on the floor are fair game."

"These were brand new boots, Jules.” There was no missing the aggravation in his voice as he added, “I spent a fortune on these damn things, and now, they're ruined."

"Well, they wouldn't be ruined if you'd put them in the closet instead of leaving them in the middle of the floor."

"If I didn't know better, I’d say you taught him to do that shit."

"You know better than that!"

"I don't know any such thing! You taught him how to roll over and play dead."

"That's different!"

"Maybe so, but I don't see him chewing up your shoes."

"Because I put my shoes in the closet where they belong!"

There was a time when I would've never said something like that, much less argued. I would've simply dropped my head and accepted defeat, and then, I'd hate myself for it. That was back when I was scared, but things are different now.

I was with someone I loved and trusted, and I wasn’t scared anymore.

I could say what was on my mind without fearing the consequences—which was why I placed my hand on my hip and sassed, "And that goes for my socks and underwear, too! You keep leaving them on the floor, and it's only a matter of time before Roscoe starts shredding them."

“That little asshole is going outside if he starts shredding my underwear!”

“That sweet baby is too little to be outside, and you know it!”

“Well, then, you better train his sweet, little ass not to chew up my damn boots!”

Quinton tossed his chewed-up boot on the floor with a defeated sigh, and I couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for him. I knew there was stuff going on with the club, and he had a long day ahead. In hopes of lightening the mood, I dropped my hands to the hem of my shirt and lifted it, along with my bra, exposing my breasts.


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