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)
"This little beauty’s untouched, gentlemen. Imagine that. Give them a spin, darlin’.” He raises her arm as if they’re dancing, and she twirls stiffly in place. Anyone with eyes in their fucking head's got to see how fake that smile is, but nobody fucking cares. "Sugar got herself into a little trouble, so she’s ready to be all yours, no fucking limits. That's got to be worth a little dough, right? Think about it. You’ll be the first to pop her cherry. Any of her cherries, or all of them."
“Two hundred bucks,” the asshole who yelled earlier bids.
Crusher looks insulted. “Two c-notes? C’mon, Bullseye. You couldn’t get one of our girls to suck that little pinkie of yours for that. For the right amount, we’re talking long term, not just a quick poke. She’s got a bit of a tab to work off, so this ass is an investment.”
“Thousand,” someone offers, like she’s goods to be flipped and not a fucking human being.
It takes everything I’ve got to sit on my hands as the bidding quickly goes up to five grand.
“You going to want her back?” A guy down front asks.
Crusher hesitates. “We’ll knock your bid off her debt, and then take a cut of what she makes you until it’s paid off.”
Six grand, seven, eight. It’s down to the guy down front and someone off to the side, and I don't fucking like the look of either of them.
And neither does Sugar. Her big blue eyes lock with mine, pleading for me to do something. Anything.
Fuck, she’s recognized us. I’m sure of it. The way she’s staring, she seems to think we’re all that stands between her and fucking doom.
I’m no hero, but I can’t keep watching this. Fuck it.
I start to stand up, and Badass puts his hand on my arm.
“Seriously? You’re going to stop me?” I snarl, shaking him off again.
He shakes his head. “Fuck no, but this is going to go to shit fast and we need to be ready.”
Quickshot nods, subtly pushing his cut out of the way to get access to his piece.
With a quick nod to acknowledge them, I get to my feet. The old guy on stage goes, “First chance,” as he looks around the room for bidders.
I raise my hand. “Ten grand!”
6
NATALIE
Ten thousand dollars? I stare wide-eyed at the scarred biker.
He stares right back, his smoldering gaze so intense that for a moment I forget where I am and why I’m here. All I can remember is our kiss and the primal connection I felt the other night. Heat pools in my belly, and it happens so suddenly that when Crusher’s fingers tighten, I’m almost grateful for the pain that pulls me back to reality. I wasn’t sure if he’d recognized me earlier, but now there’s no doubt in my mind.
He just bid on me.
My first thought is relief. He’s trying to save me—and then reality kicks in. Of course he’s not. He couldn’t have known I would be here, so clearly he was already ready to buy. I’m just some girl he happened to steal a kiss from in a dive bar.
I need to think he’s different. But what proof do I have of that? Treating me like an actual person when he saw me getting groped? Stop being naive, Natalie.
For a good while, the room is silent. I’m about to become biker property, my body and virginity nothing but things to buy and own.
“Twelve thousand.”
A murmur goes through the room as I snap my attention to the new bidder. It’s the man in the suit who was talking to Crusher. He looks up at me from his chair, his lips curling into a seductive smile.
Why did he just jump into the bidding? He didn’t seem interested until just now.
I bet he drives a nice car, and lives in a fancy house. That suit looks both expensive and out of place in a biker den. Maybe he’ll win and I can pretend to be a high end escort like in Pretty Woman. He’ll fall in love with me and we’ll have a messed up happily ever after.
But he’s no Richard Gere, and there’s nothing seductive about his nearly black eyes. Just eerie darkness, and the longer I look, the sharper his smile gets, until it’s ready to draw blood. There’s no salvation there, either. He wants to own me, and while I’m pretty sure what the bikers want, I get the feeling sex is only a small part of this man’s desires.
“Motherfucker,” growls the biker, scanning the crowd, but I doubt he can see the guy in the suit. His friend, the wall of a man who caught me at the bar, is saying something, but the bidding biker shakes his head. “Thirteen!”
This is insane.
"Fifteen," the man in the suit responds coolly. His suit jacket has opened to reveal the dark hilt of a gun. Now I’m certain I don’t want him to win. He’s giving me ‘don’t let them take you to a second location’ vibes.