Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 92397 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92397 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
While Rage was more like his uncle’s son.
But he didn’t want to think about blood family right now. Not when he was sporting a raging hard-on as he carried Lyric down the hallway to his bedroom with nothing but bad intentions.
He stopped at the doorway to his bedroom and freed her mouth. “Sure you wanna do this?” Because if she wasn’t, he wasn’t taking one more step toward his bed.
She ran the tip of her nose along his bearded jawline and whispered, “Yes.” Her warm breath tickled his neck.
His dick flexed and he swore his balls tightened in his jeans.
His bedroom was dark since the blinds were still closed, and he wanted to be able to see her. Every damn inch.
As he set her down on her feet, she slid down his body and over his dick, making him bite back a groan. He flipped the switch just inside the door and scanned the bedroom, trying to see it through her eyes.
Yeah, it was a disaster like the rest of his apartment. Between managing Heaven’s Angels and being the enforcer of the Dirty Angels, it wasn’t like he had time to keep his place neat.
Anyway, that was what sweet butts were for. He’d need to text a few of them later and they could tackle the mess.
But for now, she’d have to live with it.
“Probably ain’t what you’re expectin’.”
“It’s…” She made a pained face.
The funny thing was, she wasn’t much neater. Her office at the shop proved it.
“Yeah. Got a spare bedroom but it’s probably just as bad.” Since he never had guests using the room, he usually tossed shit in there to get it out of the way.
“I…uh…Are your sheets clean?”
“Really gotta ask? But what we’re about to do’s gonna make ‘em dirty, anyway.”
“Yes, but—”
“Changin’ your mind?” If she did, in one way, he’d be disappointed, in another, he’d be relieved. But he’d let her decide.
The look of determination was back in her eyes. “No.” She stepped farther into his room.
He took those moments to check her out, focusing on the way her perfect ass looked so damn good in the black pants hugging her legs and tucked into black, ankle-high boots.
But besides her ass, his eyes were drawn to her almost black hair in the neat braid that hung halfway down her back.
He swore he’d waited a lifetime to comb his fingers through the those strands. To feel her silky hair against his body.
For fuck’s sake, he had to still be asleep, right? Was this some sort of dream? Lyric couldn’t really be standing in his bedroom about to fuck him.
“Baby.”
She glanced over her shoulder at him in question.
“I’m awake, right?”
Her forehead puckered. “What?”
He shook his head at himself for being such a stupid ass.
He closed in on her as she bent over in the center of his messy bedroom and pulled off her boots. Once she straightened, it really hammered home the fact that at six-foot-three he was a foot taller than her.
When she reached for her pants, he stopped her with, “Wait.” What he was about to do next was something he’d only ever dreamed about. A dream that was about to become a reality.
He stepped behind her and squeezed her shoulders before sliding his hands to the crooks of her neck and pressing both thumbs into her spine. When her shoulders dropped and her head fell slightly forward, he realized how tense she’d been.
Clearly, she was nervous. He needed to take shit slow with her and not be an aggressive bastard like he normally was. Because he usually wanted to just pound it out and move the fuck on.
She groaned and relaxed even more when he circled and pressed his thumbs into her warm flesh.
Since he’d learned when he was young how sacred a Native American’s hair was to them, he asked for permission to touch it first. “Gonna undo your hair, yeah?” She might only be a quarter Lakota, but she still valued her father’s heritage.
Nodding, she released a long, shaky breath.
He slipped the elastic band from the bottom of her braid and handed it to her so she could tuck it into her pocket for later. He then slowly unraveled the long strands, pulling his fingers through to free them. Normally, her hair was as straight as her father’s, but the French braid caused it to fall in soft waves. And now that it wasn’t bound, the length almost reached her waist.
He couldn’t remember the last time she’d worn her hair loose. When they were kids, possibly. Normally, she wore it like today or in double braids to keep it from becoming knotted or damaged.
He lifted the soft curtain, shoved his nose in it, and inhaled deeply. It was difficult to pick up the light floral scent because of the fucking shitty perfume that splattered him last night.