Total pages in book: 171
Estimated words: 159500 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 798(@200wpm)___ 638(@250wpm)___ 532(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 159500 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 798(@200wpm)___ 638(@250wpm)___ 532(@300wpm)
His pupils have blown wide, barely any of the blue still in his eyes, and as he swallows, never taking his gaze off me, I’m torn between watching the sensuous dip of his Adam’s apple or the pink mouth I’m so desperate to taste. The more he denies it to me, the more I’m obsessed with it.
As the wind blows hair into his face, I cross the distance between us and put my hands on his bare arms. Maybe it’s wrong, but I’m not giving it a rest and dive in for a kiss, but Clyde seems ready for it. He frowns and manages to slide his hand between our mouths, placing it on my face. I’m tempted to lick it again. It was so hot and salty.
Clyde gives me a stern look, as if he’s disciplining a dog. Too bad he’s dealing with a wolf, but I’ll let it slide for now. He’s also much more collected after the drive through the forest.
“We need to set some ground rules.”
Fuck. I hate rules.
“Really? You’ll take my cock in your mouth, but not my tongue?” I ask into his palm, cocking my head as the warmth between our bodies intensifies.
My eyes grow when his lips part. He’s blushing. Clyde fucking Turner is blushing. Because of me. I want my dick inside him so bad I might forego the kissing for now.
“That’s different. We are just bodies, remember, fuck puppet?” Clyde raises his eyebrows. He’s trying to keep a lid on me. Fat chance. Even my club hasn’t quite managed to do that. “So. Rules. We’ll enjoy this while it lasts, because we both know it can’t last—”
“That’s exactly why we should fuck the rules and enjoy it all.”
“Maybe I just don’t wanna kiss you?” Clyde glares at me. “Maybe I think you’re a piece of shit with a very hot and available body?”
He’s trying to offend me, and it’s working, but I don’t want him to know he can make me feel bad, so I shrug at this weird, backhanded compliment.
“Fine,” I say, even though it definitely isn’t fine.
But his shoulders ease and that’s good, because I need him more relaxed for what I wanna do with him. “Second rule, no club talk. Whatever happens, I’m not betraying my club. Here, I’m just… Clyde, okay?” But he has to take a deep breath, and I can’t help the pang of satisfaction. He’s stressed. Good.
“Same. This has nothing to do with our clubs,” I tell him and lean down to smell the fragrance on his skin. Fuck, he smells like whiskey drunk from a charred wooden cup, and I want to dive in right away. So I slide my tongue along his bared collarbone, all the way to the neck.
I love his little gasp. He’s not the controlling, tight-assed prick when he gives in to me, and I’m not sure what to do with how much I enjoy that, but I’m not gonna overthink it. His hands move to my neck, and despite the memory of him choking the life out of me being so vivid in my head, I’m relaxed about it.
Touching him feels so… natural. Like pure instinct. So I slide my arms around him and press close in something that’s awfully similar to a hug. Again, that sweet gasp in my ear. I fucking love it. And I love how warm his solid form feels in my arms.
“What is this place?” I ask, taking in the wooden shed constructed out of a patchwork of steel sheets and wooden planks. There’s even a basic campfire spit over a pile of charred wood nearby.
Unbelievably, after a moment of hesitation, he hugs me back. His arms slide around my waist, and it’s making my insides melt in ways they definitely shouldn’t.
“It’s just a very secret spot. Call me paranoid, but I don’t watch porn on my phone, just in case, so if I want visuals, I’ve got some… magazines here. I can chill here, since no one knows about this place.”
“Magazines?” I ask, leaning back to look at his face. “This is your porn shed?”
Clyde groans and rolls his eyes, but never lets go of me. “Yeah, I suppose it is. You… want to look at some together?” His icy gaze meets mine from so close I have to stifle my craving to kiss his mouth, because I don’t want another argument when seeing his porn is on the table.
I want to speak, act all casual, as if I wasn’t fucking overwhelmed by this whole situation, but when words fail me, I give him a nod and squeeze his shoulder. I came here hoping to get off, but he’s offering me a glimpse into his brain, into his fantasies and wants. How could I say no?
Clyde slides out of my embrace and leads the way into the shack. Even walking behind him, sends sparks down my spine, because I’m closer than is strictly acceptable. I’m enveloped in the scent of his shampoo, which I swear is some kind of witchy potion, because it smells of rosemary, peppercorns, and rum. I did stop for a shower before coming here, but I’ve never met a biker who smells as good as Clyde.