Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 80074 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80074 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
I didn’t have to reach for him, the puppy pretty much jumped into my arms. Whimperin’, layin’ kisses all over my face with his puppy breath.
My heart melted right then and there.
“Found him at the park down the road,” he declared. “Looks healthy as can be too. Not a flea on him.”
“He must have just run away from home. He has to be chipped.”
“He’s not. I checked.”
“There’s no way he doesn’t have an owner. This dog costs over two grand.”
He shrugged, scratchin’ behind the puppy’s ears. “You know the drill, if he has owners they got forty-eight hours to find or report him missing. If they don’t, he goes up for adoption.”
“Someone’s gonna claim him. I mean, look at him.” I held him up. “He’s like a teddy bear.”
He shrugged again. “Something tells me they won’t.”
“What do you mean?”
“Been doing this a long time, Harley girl. Might as well start the adoption papers because that puppy’s yours.”
As if agreein’ with him, the puppy barked, and I swear he nodded and winked at me.
“You think?”
“I know.”
“Does that mean Teddy will finally make his new mom enjoy her birthday?” Shiloh questioned, and I ignored her while kissin’ all over my new best friend’s furry face.
“What are you going to name him?” Arnold asked.
I didn’t think twice about it, answerin’, “Teddy.”
<>Jackson<>
Then: Seventeen years old
“Just listen to my baby purr,” Trigger muttered, caressing the hood of his diesel engine souped-up Ford F-250.
His truck, also known as Delilah, was lifted up to the sky, sitting on bogger tires. Custom fender flares accentuated the light kit he had just installed for tonight. It illuminated the undercarriage, tires, and the ground surrounding us.
The motherfucker was obsessed with his truck like the true redneck he was.
He’d been talking about this night for months, wanting to show off his most prized possession at the street races. Where a bunch of school kids in the area got together to show off their rides. Some would even race for money.
It took us over an hour to get here. Where we were literally in the middle of nowhere, the fuckin’ sticks. A huge ass empty parking lot that led out to a long road you could race down. Which was filled to the brim with cars, trucks, bikes, booze, and slutty chicks waiting for the next guy to rail them.
This place was the talk of the town. Especially for good ol’ boys like Trigger, who had nothing better to do than prove how big his balls were by judging the size of his nuts dangling off the back of his hitch.
And my boy’s nuts were made of fuckin’ steel.
I shook my head, looking at the brass balls hanging there. “How are we best friends?”
“’Cuz I’m the shit.”
“You’re something alright.”
“You’re gonna be beggin’ to suck my dick like that bitch over there, when you realize how much pussy we score tonight ’cuz of my girl.”
“Trigger, I don’t need your truck to score anything. Especially pussy.”
He held his hands out in front of him. “Oh, I’m sorry. I forgot, you’re Jackson fuckin’ Pierce. Star quarterback. Recruiters been kissin’ your ass since grade school, right? Well guess what, motherfucker, I’m Trigger Reed. Star defensive end, and together we’re a dynamic duo, so don’t you ever forget that.”
“Like you would ever let me.”
He laughed, handing me a beer. “I don’t see your birthday girl or my Shy. You think they’re comin’?”
“This ain’t their scene.”
“You sure ‘bout that? Harley’s a Jameson. They probably started this shit.”
“They ride motorcycles, not crotch rockets.”
I was about to take a swig from my beer, but the deafening sound of two street bikes came to life down the road. Heightening everyone’s eyes toward the street.
Including, mine.
The chills down my spine should’ve been a sign, a warning, a goddamn fuckin’ beacon. However, I was too busy, too consumed, too hypnotized by the vision in front of me.
No one had ever caught my cock’s attention like this.
This girl, watching her, was wrecking...
My self-control.
Chapter 8
<>Jackson<>
Two goddesses with chromed out helmets, wearing tiny school girl outfits that showed more skin than the flimsy fabric covered, tore through the crowd on black stunt street bikes. Popping wheelies.
Not just any wheelies, though. They were standing with one foot on the back of the jump seat handle, while their other foot slightly touched the ground beneath them. Dragging their black combat boots as they held the bikes perfectly upright in two sharp, straight lines.
The beat of the song “Closer” by Nine Inch Nails came on, blaring off the stereo system of the car following close behind them. The girl I couldn’t take my eyes off of, slammed on the brakes, launching her petite frame to the front of her bike.
Where she proceeded to pop another wheelie with her legs now resting out over the front wheel, sitting on the center of the handlebars. She floored it before dropping the front wheel back down on the concrete. Only to slam on the brakes again, making her back tire abruptly lift off the street, into a seamless front wheelie.