Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 78487 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78487 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
I’m expected at the clubhouse for Church at midday, but until then, I’m free as a bird. So I step out of my jeans and walk toward the bathroom. She doesn’t hear me enter until I open the shower door. She has her back to me and looks like a vision of perfection beneath the glittering stream of water.
She looks over her shoulder at me, her long wet hair hanging like silk over the subtle curves of her shoulder blades and down to the arc of her waist.
Her gaze sweeps over me, and a dark heat enters her eyes when she sees the heavy erection hanging between my legs.
“Like what you see?”
She quirks an eyebrow. “Maybe.”
I step inside and stand behind her, and she bites down on her lower lip.
I love how tiny she is in comparison to my size.
My lips graze her shoulder, my tongue trailing up to the sensitive spot behind her ear. She shivers and tilts her head, exposing the full curve of her throat. My teeth sink into the flawless skin, and she lets out a whimper that sends all kinds of crazy to my cock.
I guide her hands up to the wall and press her palms against the tiles.
We didn’t use a condom last night, and it’s the farthest thing from my mind when I rock my hips forward and slide my cock inside her. With a groan, she braces herself against the tiled wall and sinks her teeth into her lips.
Her sweet pussy tightens around me, and it feels so good, the effort not to come straight away almost kills me.
I’m high on all the sensations hitting my brain at once. The sound of her sweet moans. Her soft milky body bending against mine. Her wet pussy as it suckles my cock. The warm shower water hitting my skin. It all feels so good I know I’m about to explode.
Reaching around, I begin to rub her clit, and her knees buckle.
“Oh God, Ares, don’t stop,” she begs. She sags against the tiles and gasps for breath. “I’m so close. So… fucking… close.”
I pick up the pace.
Both my fingers and my cock.
She trembles and cries out as she comes. Her sweet pussy contracts violently around my cock and fuck me, out of nowhere my orgasm hits me like a brick in the face. It crashes through me, but I don’t stop thrusting until we both ride the wave all the way to the end, and our cries are swallowed by the warm stream of the shower.
Panting, I turn her to face me and take her by the throat. I claim her mouth and kiss her until my racing pulse begins to calm.
This woman.
Fuck.
I could get fucking addicted to this.
Leaving the shower cubicle, we towel off the water and dress.
Once in the kitchen, Rory makes us coffee.
“About last night and this morning,” she says candidly, handing me a cup. “I don’t want you to worry. I had a full medical last month for work, and I got a clean bill of health.”
I never take a pussy unprotected, but somehow all rhyme and reason left me last night. And again, this morning.
“It’s not how I usually roll,” I assure her. “And I have to have medical clearance to fight, so you’re safe.”
She smiles at me over her coffee. “Then we should be okay.”
She’s fucking cute when she smiles.
Especially when she’s standing there in a tiny pair of shorts and a sweater hanging off one shoulder.
Before I realize it, I’m smiling back at her.
She notices the patch on my cut. “What does it mean to be a sergeant-at-arms?”
“It means I enforce the things my president wants enforced.”
Her eyes narrow with intrigue. “Sounds dangerous.”
She licks her lips, and I know I want to taste them again.
“Sometimes,” I say.
As SAA, I work closely beside my president and VP to make sure the club and their families are safe and that the interests of the club—like the cannabis crops—are protected. Sometimes that means getting blood on my hands.
The mood takes a strange turn.
“If I ask you something, will you answer truthfully?” she asks.
“I don’t lie.”
“How many men have you killed?”
The question should catch me off guard, but strangely it doesn’t. It makes me curious.
“You don’t ask if I’ve killed a man. Instead, you ask how many I’ve killed?”
“Because like I said to you last night, I know a killer when I see one.”
The harshness of her words is in complete contrast to the calm tone she uses.
“And where do you come from that you would know such a thing?”
“A lot of different men used to visit my uncle’s gym. Good guys. Bad guys. A few in between.”
“What constitutes a bad guy?”
“The ones who lie and say they’re good guys. When really, they should be honest and own it. I’m bad. I do shitty things. I’d have more respect for them if they did.”