Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 106404 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 532(@200wpm)___ 426(@250wpm)___ 355(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106404 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 532(@200wpm)___ 426(@250wpm)___ 355(@300wpm)
I haven’t heard shit about Edge and Dolly because my morning consisted of Frosty showing me footage from one of my grow houses and the fucks who’ve been scouting it. I know it’s the same guys who ripped off our warehouse.
Then I bought two new shipping containers so that I can grow our best batch in it with massive security. After that, Ryder texted me about Antoinette.
“Look. I don’t want you talking to Crystal.”
She tilts her head back in my silver helmet. “I thought she’s one of you guys? Isn’t she Blade’s ex?” she yells.
“Stop listening to gossip.” I’m rock hard and take a step back to adjust myself. How the fuck am I going to ride like this?
“You ever been on a bike?” She shakes her head.
“Just move with me. Think you can do that?” I swing my leg over the Harley and start her up.
As I turn to look at her, she stands in the sun wearing my jacket and my helmet, her posture perfect. I can almost feel the excitement radiating off her. My mind instantly goes to where I can take her and fuck her.
Revving up my beast, I smile at her, liking everything about having her on the back of my bike, wearing my cut.
“Get on, baby.”
Like she was born to ride, she gracefully gets on. My hand moves to her knee, trailing down to her ankle and back up.
She lays her head on my back and I tighten her arms around my waist. I’ve had many women on the back of my bike, but this is the first one who feels right. A tingle of unease slithers down my spine. I shouldn’t be thinking like this.
I’m fucking thirty-three and she’s twenty. I’m leading her on and she doesn’t know the game or even how to play. I’m never gonna have an old lady, never gonna get married and have kids. I don’t want that life. I certainly don’t want to become pussy whipped like my brothers. But I do want to keep her, mold her… corrupt her.
Why worry? I’m incapable of having those feelings. Love? It’s not for me.
I tried when I was younger. My attraction lasts at the most a week or two. Then something will bother me and before you know it, I have a new one on the back of my bike and in my bed.
I need to drop her off at the first apartment I see for rent. Pay for it, then walk the fuck away. A good guy would do that.
But I’m not good.
There’s no way I’m depriving myself of her and that tight cunt. I shift into gear, and her body seems to know how to move with me.
Leaning forward, I let the wind whip around my face as we head toward Griffith Park.
ANTOINETTE
I have no idea where we’re going. All I know is I love being on the back of Axel’s bike, wearing his heavy jacket, which smells like him.
It’s ridiculous how secure a jacket can make you feel even if you’re swimming in it. Sweat trickles down my neck, no doubt from the hot helmet and the bike throwing off its own heat.
He stops but keeps the bike running. The view takes my breath away: Los Angeles and all her glory.
Perfect.
My lips split into a grin. I’m happy. I can’t remember the last time I was truly happy, maybe when I was fourteen, fifteen. Whatever, it doesn’t matter. I’m happy right now and I’m gonna cherish it. Because it can change in seconds.
As I get ready to lift my visor, he squeezes my hand and shifts. His bike responds and rumbles down a dirt trail. Looking around, I had no idea places like this even existed in Los Angeles.
He stops the bike and I wait to see what we’re doing. Are we hiking? Is that why he wanted me to wear different clothes?
He gets off and before I can undo the clasp on the helmet, his warm hands are there, taking it off. I shake out my hair and let the fresh air cool my face. He leans down to hang the helmet on the handlebars.
“Take everything off but my cut,” he says, lifting me off the bike.
My legs can barely hold me up. Not sure if the bike or his words are responsible, but I reach out for him to steady me.
I obey. Kicking off my tennis shoes, I’m surprised by a flutter of excitement that makes me rather breathless.
“Good girl,” he says, and my core clenches. What is wrong with me? I almost stop. Am I being too easy? Like am I supposed to pretend I don’t want him?
It’s times like this I wish I had listened to Bella and Heather when they would get into details about sex and what guys like.
“Not now, Antoinette. I’m too wound up. I suggest you do what I say, or this might not end up the way you want.” His sapphire eyes are cold, dark, almost as if he’s angry.