Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 64662 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 323(@200wpm)___ 259(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64662 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 323(@200wpm)___ 259(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
PROLOGUE
Diesel
Dix raises his shot glass high in the air, a wide, shit-eating grin on his face. “To a long and slow and painful as fuck death. I can’t think of a more worthy man!”
For Dix, this is beyond personal. His wife Valentina is—or was—Rojas’s daughter, and they couldn’t rest until today. Until we got word that Arturo Rojas, our nemesis and head of the cartel, had taken his last breath.
“Fuck, yeah!” Banger, fully healed and hungry for revenge, is celebrating like there’s no tomorrow. He tosses his head back, his toothy grin visible from goddamn space he’s so loopy with glee.
There’s been no sign of the Bloodthirsty Devils or the Latin Mafia in weeks, but with the death of Arturo Rojas, they’ll make their presence known soon enough. I’m sure of that.
Ace steps into the middle of the party with a double-shot glass high in the air. “Officially, the old man died of a heart attack, but a slow poisoning sent him to the prison infirmary where he—unfortunately—succumbed to a lethal dose of potassium chloride that stopped his heart.” Ace flashes a wide grin, proud of the intricate plan that took out our biggest enemy. “Let us all drink to the life—”
“—and the death!” Dix calls out with a laugh.
“Of Arturo Rojas!” Ace lowers the shot glass and knocks it back with a smile, his gaze landing on the one woman who might feel something other than joy during our celebration. “Valentina, any words?”
With one arm slung over Dix’s broad shoulders, the former cartel princess smiles. “To my papi, may you rot in hell for all of eternity.”
She turns to Dix with a smile, whispering something softly that makes him smile in return.
“Fuck,” I growl as everyone takes a shot to celebrate the not-so-tragic death of our biggest enemy, or one of them anyway. Everyone is celebrating, and it feels like I’m the only one still worried about what comes next. Sure, Arturo is dead, but his cartel isn’t completely demolished. Have they forgotten we’ve added two more enemies to the mix. And now, their silence worries me more than anything.
“Hiya, Diesel. Feel like some company?” Layla is one of the newest club whores, as eager as she is gorgeous. She uses her bright red hair and pale blue eyes to advantage, and it doesn’t hurt that she’s built like a brick shithouse. Best of all? She’s always down for a quick fuck. Even better, she likes it hard and fast. Always.
With worries about the aftermath of Roja’s death on my mind, I’m not in the mood right now. But when Layla grabs my cock through my jeans, he stands up to make his opinion known. No matter what I think I want, he’s in the mood for something tight and wet, which describes Layla to a fucking tee.
It’s a good fucking thing he’s in charge right now because I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with me. This is exactly what I do. I fuck girls and fix cars, with a hell of a lot of partying in between. I chalk up my ambivalence to stress and flash a smile at Layla. “Maybe?”
She laughs deep and throaty sounds like she lives on cigarettes, whiskey, and deepthroating.
“Just maybe? I’m sure I can push that maybe to a fuck, yeah.” She squeezes my cock again, pressing her perfect tits against my chest.
My cock responds, standing stiff and tall. But something holds me back, and I fucking hate it. Maybe this is what growing up feels like. Fuck that, I tell myself. I reject that notion flat out. If I wanted that shit, I’d have a miserable nine-to-five job where I daydream about killing my boss instead of the life I have as a bad-ass biker who gets to tinker with engines all day.
“You can try,” I tell Layla in a teasing voice because no matter what the fuck else is going on, I’m getting my dick wet. Period.
“Oh, I’ll do more than try, big guy,” she purrs. Her whole body presses against mine, and she nips my ear and squeezes my cock again, applying a bit more pressure, just how I like it. “Let me show you.”
“Yeah, sure,” I drawl, finishing off another shot along with my beer before she grabs my hand and leads me to an empty room inside the clubhouse.
As soon as we’re alone, Layla pushes me against the nearest wall and drops to her knees, where she makes quick work of my jeans and boxer briefs, tugging them halfway down my legs while she uses one hand to stroke my cock and the other to cup my balls.
“You’re already hard. Throbbing,” she whispers before sliding her tongue along the head of my cock.
“What the fuck is it supposed to do? I’ve got a big-tittied woman with her lips around my dick,” I say, trying to make a joke of it. But my head falls back and one hand threads through her red hair as she takes me all the way to the back of her throat. “Ah, fuck,” I moan, releasing myself into the pleasure of her mouth.