Toxic (Satan’s Death Riders MC #1) Read Online Sam Crescent

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Biker, Contemporary, MC, Virgin Tags Authors: Series: Satan's Death Riders MC Series by Sam Crescent
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Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 92519 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
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“Are you … okay?”

“Shut up,” Rosalie said. “Just … finish it.”

“Rosalie.”

“Don’t. Just don’t.”

Colt didn’t like this feeling. She didn’t want to be here and neither did he. He’d never been with a virgin before. This was his first time, and he wasn’t feeling great about it.

He stared down at his cock. Virgins shouldn’t be used in this way.

“Hurry up,” Rosalie said. “Please, just hurry up.”

The damage was already done. Their wedding was consummated. He had his proof and he’d give Daemon the sheets tomorrow. He grabbed her hips and began to fuck her. He didn’t try to make it good for her. His only mission was to finish.

Staring at her ass, he fucked her, ramming his cock hard and deep. Each time he did, he heard a slight whimper. Her hand was clenched into a fist within the sheet. He was hurting her. This shouldn’t bother him, but it did.

He felt the first tingles rolling up his spine and he didn’t try to stop it. The orgasm came, and it was fucking unwelcome. His grip tightened on her hips as he spilled his cum deep inside her. They had to have a baby. They were going to have to have sex more than this.

As soon as his orgasm was done, he pulled out and as he did, blood and cum spilled onto the sheets, staining the fabric instantly. The proof.

The moment it was done, Rosalie didn’t linger. She crawled across the bed, and she looked at the two doors facing her.

“It’s the first door. Rosalie?”

“You have what you need. I’m going to that bathroom.”

“Rosalie, wait…”

She stopped but didn’t turn around.

He had no idea what to say. What did he say? “I had no idea.”

“I know and it doesn’t matter what I’d say, you wouldn’t have believed me, so why do you care now?”

“I’m sorry.”

“You got what you wanted. That’s the evidence my father needs. Take it.”

“We have to make a baby,” he said.

There was plenty of time to say it, but he couldn’t let her leave without her knowing if this didn’t work, they were going to have to do it more than once.

Rosalie turned. She still wore her bra and she held her hands in front of her pussy, hiding from him. He saw tears falling down her cheeks. Her eyes were red and there was pain on her face.

“Do you want us to arrange a schedule?” Rosalie asked.

“Why are you doing this?” he asked.

“It’s what I’ve been told to do. It’s my only use in this.”

He pressed his fingers to his eyes.

“We can do this, if you’d like,” Rosalie said. “Every Friday. I’ll either come to the club, or I’ll arrive at your house. I’ll kneel, and we fuck, and wait until I’m pregnant. We don’t need to make any other arrangements.”

She stepped into the bathroom and closed the door.

Colt stared at the door. He’d not kissed her. The only time he’d been nice to her was … never. Staring at the blood on the sheets, he felt like a fucking animal.

Tucking his cock back into his pants, he gathered up the sheets. He didn’t see a reason to wait until morning. He was pissed off. No, the anger went deeper than that. Women had always left his bed satisfied. They never left it looking like Rosalie did.

She’s the enemy.

It didn’t matter to him. With the sheets in his hands, he stepped out of the bedroom. Myth was there, reading a book.

“That was quick,” Myth said. His gaze fell to the sheets. “Well? Are we about to go and pick a fight with the club?”

Colt showed him and Myth’s gaze went wide. “She was a virgin?”

He nodded.

“Shit.”

“Where is he?”

“Out in the yard with your father and, er, mother.”

Colt made his way downstairs and the club was filled with brothers. Evil Fuckers MC and Satan’s Death Riders MC alike. They all saw him, they saw what he was carrying. The smirks from the Evil Fuckers were clear. For his own club, they held surprise. They had assumed Rosalie was like her father. No, she wasn’t, neither was Gabrielle.

He walked outside. His mother was on his father’s lap. There were several club men around. Daemon looked way too fucking proud of himself, and that happiness seemed to intensify as he stepped forward, holding the sheets.

“That was … quick,” Daemon said.

“Son?” Warden asked.

“Your bloody sheets. A rather archaic mafia tradition,” Colt said.

“Where do you think I got the idea from? I’ve frequented a few of the weddings. I always liked the presentation of the sheets. I think we’ll hang them up in the main clubhouse for all to see. The Evil Fuckers MC have given their blood and you got your rocks off.”

Colt threw the sheets into the trash can, and allowed them to burn.

Daemon got to his feet.

“Enough,” Warden said.

“Rosalie doesn’t need to see these presented to the club. Everyone knows. They’ve seen it. She spread her legs like the good little girl she is.”


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