Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 74501 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74501 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
It was a lot.
Dutch bent his head and kissed her.
And after all of that, what she gave him, where she took him, the release he felt inside, down deep, still not knowing what it meant to his future, but at least understanding what was there, his kiss was not quick.
Since she was Georgie, she responded wholeheartedly.
They got lost in it, some serious groping was happening, when a questioning, “Mwr?” semi-penetrated right before there was a hammering on his front door.
He lifted his head, aiming his eyes to the door of his bedroom.
“What—?” she started.
He looked down at her.
“Do you think Hound or Jagger told the Club about what we’re doing, and someone is here, angry about it?” she asked.
“No fucking way,” he answered.
The hammering kept coming.
He saw Murtagh bounce out, clearly kitty-ticked at the disturbance.
Dutch felt him. He was biker-ticked.
“I’ll get it. You stay here,” he ordered.
“Dutch—”
He kissed her, this time quick. “I’ll handle it and be back.”
Then he rolled off her and out of bed.
When he got to the door, and opened it, it wasn’t a huge surprise, what was on the other side.
It also was.
Last, it was aggravating.
But apparently, Jagger didn’t waste any time.
“Where is she?” Carolyn demanded, landing a hand in his chest and shoving him aside as she stomped in.
He took a breath to control his temper, a mistake, because it took too long before he began, “Caro—”
“Bitch, I know you’re here!” she shouted down the hall. “Get your traitor ass out here!”
Dutch closed the door and moved between her and the entryway to the hall at the back of his house.
“Calm down,” he ordered.
“Fuck you and fuck her!” she spat, then leaned to the side to scream around him, “Georgiana, get your fat ass out here!”
Uh…
No.
Fuck…
No.
“Get out,” he demanded.
“Fuck you,” she repeated.
“Out of my house, Carolyn.”
“Fuck you, Dutch!” she shrieked.
“For heaven’s sake, keep it down. Dutch has neighbors,” Georgiana said from behind him.
He twisted at the waist, saw she’d put on a mauve satin robe that had a subtle print of purple and white flowers with black stems. It had billowy sleeves, was super short so it showed her long legs, and was gaping open at the top, so it also showed her generous cleavage.
Even without makeup and her ponytail messed up from them making out, or maybe because of it, she looked like she was ready to step in front of a camera for a catalog shoot.
“Ohmigod, I cannot believe you’re doing Dutch Black. Fuck me over and take the brother!” Carolyn accused.
“Go back to the bedroom,” he demanded Georgie’s way.
“Dutch, honey, this is mine to deal with,” she replied, arriving at his side.
“Dutch…honey?” Carolyn asked snidely.
They both turned to her.
She homed in on Dutch. “FYI, she thinks bikers are trash. So she might like what you do with your dick, but you’re just rough trade to her.”
This did not affect Dutch in the slightest because he knew the kernel of truth behind it was gone and the rest of it was just Carolyn pissed that her own shit was blowing up in her face and she was lashing out because of it.
However, in the mix of the second drama they’d had that morning, he’d momentarily forgotten that his Georgie had a temper.
And she liked him.
So what Carolyn said was not a match strike to create a flame.
It was a lighter to a powder keg.
“You…goddamned…bitch!”
Her last word was pitched so high, it was a wonder his windows didn’t shatter.
But Dutch didn’t have time to shake off his ears ringing.
Georgie launched herself at her sister.
He just managed to catch her at the waist and then he pulled her back three feet.
She strained against his hold and yelled, “Let me go!”
“You couldn’t take me,” Carolyn taunted.
“Skin and bones and drug addled? You don’t think?” Georgie returned.
Oh shit.
“Baby,” he whispered, wrapping his other arm around her and pulling her tighter to him as she kept fighting his hold.
“I’m not drug-addled!” Carolyn shouted.
Georgie gave up the fight but kept up the lean.
“You’re a goddamned cokehead,” she retorted.
“Georgie,” Dutch warned.
“Am not!” Carolyn shrieked.
The front door opened.
“And a whore!” Georgie yelled.
Oh fuck.
Jagger walked in, along with their Chaos brother and bud Roscoe, who was undoubtedly bringing Jag to get his truck.
They both read the situation immediately, thus both wasted no time positioning. Roscoe at Carolyn’s back for possible containment purposes. Jagger at her side, for the same and for a better view of the action.
“I’m not a whore!” Carolyn yelled, but looking the woman’s way, Dutch saw that got in there.
“What do you call taking money for services rendered, Carolyn?” Georgie asked.
Christ.
“Ohmigod, you did not just say that to me,” Carolyn stated, looking struck. “In front of Jagger, no less.” She jabbed a finger at Jag.
“You didn’t think to keep Georgie out of it?” Dutch asked his brother.
“I didn’t say her name, or yours. She figured it out,” Jagger replied.