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)
"Isn't it?" I gesture down to the outfit I'm wearing, the one that shows every curve and jiggle. I was self-conscious when I first wore these clothes, but I've never seen anything but smoldering approval in their eyes. "Maybe it is. And what about you? You look like you should be in college breaking sorority girls' hearts, not riding around with a bunch of…" I trail off.
"Criminals?" He laughs. "You can fucking say it. It's what we are according to most of society. And I don't need to go to school to fuck sorority girls. You'd be surprised how many find their way here. You've got some strange fucking ideas about what I'm like."
"Wouldn't you have wanted to?"
"Fuck no. My childhood was a shitshow. I was never going to college, and nobody expected me to. Hell, I doubt most of the people who knew me when I was a kid expected me to live this long. Closest I've come to the straight and narrow was when I got a job at an auto shop. I thought about being a mechanic, but I was good enough to run errands, and nobody wanted to apprentice a kid who'd fucking dropped out of juvie." He scoffs.
"Maybe you could—"
"Stop. I joined the Eagles when I was seventeen and they were the best fucking thing that ever happened to me, so wipe that look off your face. That kid made me who I am, but I'm not him anymore. I get to work on as many bikes as I want, and I fucking belong. So you can keep your judgment because I know my life better than you do."
"Sorry. I shouldn't have… It doesn't matter. You're right."
"You might've liked me better back then. I was just happy to be riding with the club and finally getting to be more than a fuck up." He wrenches his cut and t-shirt off and points at his chest. "This was the end of that."
He points to the vicious scar that slices through his stomach. I swallow hard. It's shocking, and I’ve seen it, but I get lost in how absolutely ripped he is. His jeans hang low on his hips, revealing a faint trail of blond hair that runs downwards from his belly button.
I lick my lips, dragging my attention back to the scar. "What happened?"
"We were out riding. Not even fucking doing anything, and got stopped. It was back when Hawthorne was in office and trying to distract everyone from his own shit by cracking down on us. Shithead cop shot me. Nearly bit it that night."
"Is that what that girl Emily was talking about?"
He nods. "She helped keep me stable until Doc could patch me up."
"And you still stayed? Even though it's dangerous?"
Quickshot looks at me like I asked him why the sun is still rising in the east. He leans back on the desk and shakes his head. "Living is dangerous. Look at you. You were off baking fucking cupcakes and now you're stuck with three assholes who'd love to do a whole lot more than pretend to own you."
"What do you mean?" I'm playing with fire and I know it. I know exactly what he means. None of them have been shy about letting me know that they'd be happy to take things to the next level if I want.
He might think he's an asshole, but the fact that they give a shit about what I want? That small difference means everything.
His lips quick up in a sly smile, like he can hear the thoughts in my head. "A nice girl like you? Losing your virginity to not one, but three Screaming Eagles after they bought you at auction? That would make for one hell of a story to tuck away once you go back to your little cupcake baking life."
"Who would I tell?"
"Wait until you're ninety and then shock the fuck out of all your cute little grandkids. Unless you're really stuck on being a good girl for the rest of your life." He reaches out and grabs my hand, pulling me close.
My other hand lands on his bare stomach to brace myself, and my fingers trail downward on their own accord. His scar is rough and ragged, but he's standing in front of me, whole and hard.
So very hard. He puts his hand over mine and guides my fingers to his belt buckle. "What's it going to be?"
I get the buckle open before I have to let go as he yanks my barely there tank top over my head and down my arms. I scramble to work at his pants as he reaches around and pops the catches on my bra. One, two, three, and then the cups fall loose. Quickshot growls deep in his throat and captures my lips.
He shifts his hips and it's finally the moment of truth. I'll get to see if the massive bulge in his pants is as impressive as the late night videos I've seen.