Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 134788 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 674(@200wpm)___ 539(@250wpm)___ 449(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 134788 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 674(@200wpm)___ 539(@250wpm)___ 449(@300wpm)
Star came back in, holding enough towels so each doll could be dried separately. Setting them on the counter, she slipped between her and Sex Piston.
Seeing her mother’s sad expression, Star handed her the doll she was about to wash off. “You can do Ken, Mama. He likes his hair washed.”
“You do him, Star. I’m afraid I’ll drown him.” Sex Piston stared at the doll vengefully, as if it were Train incarnate.
“I’ll do him.” Killyama took the doll from Sex Piston, not wanting the girl’s feelings to be hurt.
“Careful,” Star warned. “His head falls off. Mama broke it accidently, and Daddy glued it back on, but it falls off a lot.”
“Does it?” Killyama took her eyes off the doll for a brief second to look at Star. When she turned back, the doll’s head was floating in the sudsy water.
Star fished his head out then took the headless body from her.
“I’m sorry, Star. How about I buy you a new one?” Killyama apologized to the upset girl.
Mollified, she wiggled the head back onto the body. “Can you just buy me a different Barbie I don’t have? I don’t want any more boy dolls. They break too easily.”
Killyama laughed, flicking water on Star’s cheek and starting a water fight. Then the three of them dried off before they finished the dolls.
Killyama enjoyed the afternoon with Star then went into the backyard to play with Rocky as Sex Piston cooked dinner. It was midnight when she drove home to her apartment.
She hadn’t wanted to leave. The love and intimacy in the family always drove home what was missing from her own life, what she never had: her own family.
Growing up, it had been her and her mother, with spurts of appearances from Hammer and Jonas. The only one she had always wanted to be there would show up when no one would know, keeping his identity a secret.
Inside her apartment, she carried her laptop to her bed. After showering, she rested on the bed, letting the cat snuggle next to her as she searched for the doll Star had told her she wanted. Clicking on “purchase,” she checked out before going to another site.
She scrolled down the options available, choosing what she wanted, checking out, and then closing the laptop when the receipt flashed across the screen.
Turning off her bedside lamp, she nuzzled her cat. “Who do you think he’s with tonight? Sasha, Jewell, or both?” The stupid game she played in her mind ripped her to shreds, but she couldn’t help from playing it. The scenarios of what went on in the clubhouse at night played differently every night until she fell asleep. It was a fucked-up way of replacing counting sheep.
Before she had seen Crash and Rider the night she had spent at The Last Riders’ clubhouse, she had imagined Train with only one of the women. Since then, she had begun imagining him with two or three of them a night.
Unable to fall asleep, she reached for the radio on her nightstand, pushing a button on the top. The soothing sound of thunder and rain filled the dark room. She started to count the seconds between the claps of thunder.
She had lied when she told Sex Piston she had ridden Train from her consciousness. There wasn’t going to be any getting over Train. She had instinctively known she would fall in love with him when he had walked across the parking lot the day they had gone for a ride.
She had inherited her mother’s flaw. Only one man had been able to hold her heart. Even in his death, she still mourned him. Though several men had tried to capture the heart that had already been taken, none had succeeded. Her father had made sure of that, secreting her mother away in a small town where no man could live up to the hero worship her mother felt for him.
Train was on the flip side of the same coin. Neither one truly cared about the women in their lives. He would happily share her with any of the men in the club. Hell, probably the women, too.
He was never going to love her. He would only care for her like he did all the women, but there wouldn’t be anything special between them. She bet if the women were grouped in a dark room, none of the men would be able to tell them apart, other than the tits.
Killyama took the thought back. Shade would be able to tell. He watched Lily with a hawk-like intensity. The woman didn’t take a breath before he made sure it was pure enough to enter her body.
Killyama didn’t know if she wanted a man so possessive, but damn, it would be nice to see what it could be like. To feel the warmth of someone’s love battle the frigid emotions that were seeping into her soul.