Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 77505 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 388(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77505 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 388(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
“They’re gonna be okay,” I assured her. “We will feed them while we gather intel. Then we will take care of them once we take out the others.”
“Yeah. It just sucks.”
There was a shrill whistle, making the dogs stiffen, then whimper at us, looking conflicted before turning and running.
“I fucking hate him,” Dylan snarled as she watched the dogs run back to the man who mistreated them.
The fight was long over, the two men bloodied but slapping each other on the backs as they walked back into the clubhouse.
“I know you do.” And I hated him for her. And the girls. And the dogs.
“Let’s hope Saint and Syn saw more than we did. I wasn’t even paying attention.”
I’d seen a small amount right before the dogs. After that, my concern was making sure Dylan didn’t get mauled.
The night was still relatively young, but the longer we stood there, the louder the music and noise grew from inside. It became pretty clear that no one was coming back out when Saint and Syn made their way back over to us.
We trudged back to the bikes.
“Did you guys see anything worthwhile?” I asked when we were far enough away not to worry about being overheard.
“Noted a bunch of faces and some ink,” Saint said. “Might be able to work with that. Especially if the video is clearer. We’ll check when we get back to the hotel.”
“Sounds good,” I agreed. Even if I had no intention of sitting around staring at a screen when I could be spending time with Dylan.
But when we got back to the hotel, Dylan didn’t climb off her bike.
“Everything alright?” I asked.
“Any chance you want to take Sugar for a walk?” she asked, looking at Syn.
“Yeah, I got her. Just need your keycard.”
She already had it in her hand.
Saint said nothing.
Both of them just turned and walked into the hotel.
“You okay?” I asked.
“I just need to clear my head.”
“You going for a ride?”
“Yeah.”
“Alone?”
To that, she glanced at me, then behind her.
I’d never ridden bitch in my life.
But for her?
I climbed on.
Then we were off.
I could tell she was working through whatever was in her head when she let off the gas a bit, taking the curves more slowly, overall just seeming like she wasn’t trying to outrun something anymore.
Eventually, she turned off the main roads, driving us away from the storefronts and houses until all that was left was sandy terrain and brambly bushes.
Then she was pulled off the road completely, dust kicking up around us. She moved closer and closer to a small, falling-apart red shed. Finally, she cut the engine.
She put down the kickstand.
I lowered my legs to the ground for stability.
“Where are we?” I asked as she pulled off her helmet.
“Does it matter?”
Then she turned until her legs were draped over mine, grabbed my face, and pulled me down until her lips met mine.
Her hands shifted, working the buckle of my helmet free, pulling it off, and tossing it to the side.
All the while, she kissed me like she was sick of waiting—rough, demanding, no room for hesitation.
Her arms wrapped around the back of my neck as mine went around her waist, pulling until she was up on my lap with no question about how badly I wanted her.
She moaned against my lips as her hips rocked against my cock.
My hands slid under her shirt, moving into the cups of her bra and palming her breasts. Then circling, rolling, pinching until she broke the kiss so her head could fall back on a cry.
I yanked up her shirt, leaned forward, and sucked one of her nipples into my mouth. Then I teased, sucked, scraped, and nipped before moving across her chest to drag out the torment.
Her hands were needy then. They worked my button and zipper free, reached inside, and fisted my cock, stroking me until I was too far gone to care that we weren’t exactly hidden, that someone could pass by, that we would be breaking decency laws.
I just grabbed her and climbed off the bike.
I set her on her feet and reached into my wallet for a condom, brushing her hands out of the way, then sliding it on.
But Dylan wasn’t the type of woman to stand there and just watch. Her hands went to her waistband, pushing the button through, pulling down her zipper, then shimmying her jeans and panties down her hips.
A low, primal growl escaped me when she grabbed my hand and pressed it between her thighs, showing me how fucking ready for me she already was.
My fingers slipped inside her, thrusting hard and fast until she was whimpering and pushing me away, only to turn her back on me, bend forward, and lean on the bike.
“Fuck,” I groaned as my hand went automatically to her ass, massaging it before giving her a playful slap.