Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 121728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 609(@200wpm)___ 487(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 609(@200wpm)___ 487(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
Unfortunately—or fortunately, depending on how to look at it—he found no sign of her up there, either.
He hit the backyard next. While doing his initial round, he saw a woman bent over a picnic table, and a half a dozen bikers lined up waiting to take their turn with her.
He would’ve been tempted to intervene if the woman wasn’t smiling, laughing and encouraging whoever was sticking their dick in her to fuck her harder.
To each his own.
He’d never be up for sloppy seconds. He couldn’t imagine fucking a woman after a line of men left their loads behind.
His nostrils flared as he sucked in the cold night air to beat back the nausea.
Funny how he looked at life differently after becoming an adoptive parent. He constantly thought about Val’s future and what kind of woman she would grow up to be. He would do everything in his power to make sure she didn’t end up like Amelia or any of the women who hung with the Demons.
He hoped she would have more self-respect than that. He wanted her to enter adulthood with a healthy view of sex and intimacy, but not allow anyone to use or abuse her.
Despite not drinking the first beer—he had dumped it along the way—he grabbed another bottle, twisted off the cap and flung it into the roaring bonfire in the middle of the yard.
He stumbled to a stop when he came across Screw standing next to the bonfire with his legs spread and his jeans gathered at his white as fuck thighs. They glowed brighter than the moon.
A woman was on her knees in front of the Demons’ VP, her hair wrapped tightly around his fist as he fucked her face so hard, she gagged with each thrust. Loud enough Decker could hear it over the Pink Floyd song being blasted out of the large speakers attached to the back of the house.
From the light of the bonfire, he could see the shine on her cheeks and streaks of black mascara from the tears spilled because of taking him so deeply.
Screw’s mouth was pulled into a sneer as he berated her the whole time, calling her a “whore,” “ugly bitch,” “slut” and worse.
Decker couldn’t fathom how a woman put up with that shit willingly. Like the woman in the basement who let those same words be scribbled on her skin with permanent marker.
Dirty talk was one thing. Done right it could be hot as fuck. Degradation was quite another. While it was a fetish to some, what happened at these biker parties had nothing to do with safe sexual practices between consenting adults.
It was abuse, plain and simple.
However, unless he saw some indication otherwise, he had to assume these women were there of their own free will. That meant he could do nothing if he wanted to remain undercover.
Without missing a beat, Screw pulled his cell phone from the inner pocket of his cut and put it to his ear.
Where Decker stood, he couldn’t hear what was said, but whoever called was important enough to have him answer while preoccupied.
Interesting. He might have to start shadowing Screw as much as he could without raising red flags.
The conversation only took a minute and when done, Screw tucked his cell phone away, grabbed two handfuls of the woman’s hair and began to thrust even harder.
That had to hurt.
After smirking down at the woman getting her throat hammered, the VP raised his gaze and it caught on Decker, flattening out the wicked curl of his lips.
Fuck.
Decker tipped the top of his beer bottle at Screw and nodded like he approved of the style of head the man was enjoying.
Screw jerked his chin up at him in response. Just as Decker thought he was in the clear and was about to make himself scarce, he heard, “Yo! You! Need you to do somethin’.”
Fuck. He was not getting involved in that scene. He needed to stick to the shadows more and remain as invisible as possible. Lesson learned.
“Get over here,” came the order.
Decker reluctantly stepped closer, trying to ignore the whimpers and gagging sounds coming from whom he assumed was a sweet butt since she was dressed in a similar fashion as the prostitutes he’d arrested in the past. Though, Decker was damn sure that between the two, prostitutes got the better deal. “What’s up?”
“Got a truck headin’ south and it needs some protection.”
It took a second for what Screw said to sink in.
Holy fuck. There was no fucking way Decker was stepping this easily into the trafficking pipeline. He expected to get evidence of drug dealing out of Pizza Town, but hitching a ride to Texas to meet up with the Mexican cartel that supplied the meth had not been on his bingo card.
Crew would come all over himself when he found out about this possible windfall. If that was what it was. He shouldn’t get ahead of himself. He needed to act dumb and clueless. “What does that mean?”