Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 76082 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76082 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
The girl looks like she’s one shock away from shattering. It’s time to get ourselves outta here.
Crusher seems to agree. “Fine. Fuck off, then. The auction’s over.”
Nobody’s ever accused us of being Boy Scouts, but talking about a woman like we just picked up a rack of ribs on the way to a cook-out makes me feel like I need a fucking shower. The three of us form a protective triangle around her as we make our way out of the shithole they call a clubhouse.
"I’m Badass. What's your name?"
"N—Natalie." Even tight with tension, her voice is rich and low. It makes me wish circumstances were different because I can all too clearly imagine what she’d sound like moaning under me.
"That fits you better than Sugar. The guy holding you is Animal, and that other jackass is Quickshot. Now let’s get you the fuck out of here.”
8
NATALIE
Animal’s dark hair flutters around my face as I press into his back to protect myself from the wind. With my arms wrapped around his powerful body, I dig my nails into the leather of his jacket and try not to notice the insistent rumble of the engine between my thighs. God, this shouldn’t feel as good as it does, but I’m just thrilled to be away from Crusher and his disgusting buddies, even if I don’t know for sure that these guys are any better.
My whole body is on edge. I have no idea what they're planning. Play along and nobody gets hurt, Animal whispered back at the auction, which was good to hear, I guess? But did he mean play along in front of the Unwanted? Or with him and his friends once they have me wherever we’re going and they take my virginity in a beer fueled foursome?
“Where are w—” I try to talk, but end up with a mouthful of hair, and I don’t think he can hear me anyway.
Bits of information click into place. They were at the Eagles’ Roost the other night, and Crusher called them the Screaming Eagles. I should’ve known. That name is infamous in this city. They don’t seem as horrible as the Unwanted, but maybe they just hide it better. They did buy me after all, so they aren’t exactly the good guys.
Which means I have to assume they’re expecting me to… I'm going to blame the vibrations from the motorcycle for why the idea of being taken by the three of them isn’t as disgusting as it should be.
Is this how Stockholm syndrome starts? Is that even a real thing?
The bikes slow, and I risk a peek past Animal.
The Screaming Eagles don’t have just a single rundown clubhouse like the Unwanted. They have a whole freaking compound that takes up multiple city blocks. I might still be property, but I’m definitely moving up in the biker world. Two-story tall walls surround it, and when we pass through the gate, there are guards stationed, waving us by. Inside, at the other side of a large paved courtyard, stands a massive warehouse. A sign that reads Screaming Eagles MC is lit up big enough to be seen from blocks away.
They drive straight in and park in the courtyard, swinging their legs over easily when they dismount. When Animal starts to do the same, I squeeze him tight and he hesitates. “You okay?”
I shake my head, dying of embarrassment even though you’d think I’d used it all up after the twenty-four hours I just had. “I don’t want…”
“She doesn’t want to flash the goods,” Badass says with a laugh, and without even asking, he puts his hands on my waist and lifts me straight off. He sets me down on wobbly legs.
Quickshot narrows his gray-blue eyes. “We need to get that fucking shit off you.”
I take a step back, wrapping my arms around myself. He’s easily the scariest of the three in spite of Animal’s scars and Badass’s size. Every time I think I might be able to trust them, I get a reminder that men don’t spend twenty-five thousand dollars on a woman to have a nice chat, no matter how appealing they might look on the surface.
They form a little shield around me, and Animal lifts my arms, pulling off my tank top right there in the open. I couldn’t stop him if I tried. All three sets of eyes flash with appreciation at the way the too small pushup bra forces my breasts up to unreal proportions.
I steel myself for it to get ripped off as well, but instead, Quickshot pulls off his leather vest and then his shirt, exposing a rippling six-pack that’s impossible to ignore, marred only by a vicious scar next to his belly button. Then he shoves his shirt over my head to cover me up. It’s so long my skirt disappears, giving me the first feeling of modesty I’ve had in hours, and surrounding me with the masculine scent of leather blended with whatever soap he uses.