Total pages in book: 171
Estimated words: 159500 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 798(@200wpm)___ 638(@250wpm)___ 532(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 159500 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 798(@200wpm)___ 638(@250wpm)___ 532(@300wpm)
“That’s what your prez does? Sucks everyone’s dicks, faggot?” Clyde’s words are like those cleavers on his back, sharp and deadly. Even the music seems to die down when he steps my way, eyes like two bullets with my name on them.
“Too busy between chasing girls and work. Why? Are you offering your services?” I ask, noticing Prophet shake his head somewhere to the side. This was what he wanted to avoid when he approached me about skipping the rally, but my blood boiled and spilled over. Too late.
And yet, when Clyde comes close enough that I can smell his cologne over the persistent aroma of grilled meat and burning wood, the chaos coming our way seems worth it. He should smell like grease and cigarettes, but no, there’s some kind of herb on him, bourbon, leather, and fucking… rain? I don’t know how he does it, or if it’s his shampoo, but despite my words, I want to pull him close and lick the side of his neck, not punch his face.
I love that I have an inch or three on him and he has to look up into my eyes. “You really wanna do this?” Clyde asks with a snarl, and I’m not sure anymore if his question has a double meaning for me only.
We’ve had quite a few fights over the years, but there’s a different kind of fire in him, I can sense it. As if his sweat is a potent aphrodisiac. A droplet forms on his neck, and I watch it slide down his collarbone. He’s so fucking solid.
Before I can have an answer for him, I grab the zipper of my jeans and flick it gently as I stare into his pale eyes, hoping he can see the heat in mine. They widen in the way I want to see when I come in his mouth.
I should expect his punch, but it still hurts like a motherfucker. Yelling erupts around us before he manages a second swing at me. I block it, and even though I’m gripping his fist and about to throw him in the mud, it still gives me a thrill to touch him.
We could have done it the nice way. Behind some car with him on his knees. But no, clearly I can’t have nice things because of my short temper and stupid mouth.
“Boo!” I breathe in his face, which distracts him enough for me to cut his legs from under him with a swing of my leg. Damn, but does he smell delicious! As he lands on his back, sinking in the shallow mud, I imagine myself falling on top of him and licking a line across his neck, then down his torso, all the way to the pink scar I left on him. A nice reminder that I’ve already penetrated him once. With a knife, but it still counts.
But there’s no time to waste, and I pluck out the old phone I’ve been carrying on me whenever I left my club’s territory. Just in case I accidentally meet Clyde Turner in the wild. He groans when I shove it down his pocket.
He grabs my forearm, and while I’ve healed up well, bile rises in my throat at the pang of pain where my bone was broken. Clyde is leaner than me but oh, so strong. When he pulls, I fall forward, half of my body in the mud, but one of my legs wraps around him and blocks a kick.
I barely avoid a punch to the face. I’m fucking exhilarated. If I never get to fuck him, I may start a fight every time I see him just for his touch.
He twists like an eel, but it’s now my turn to dominate this fight, and I roll on top of him, sliding one of my arms around his waist, the other—to his throat. Wet mud soaks through my pants where I dig my knees into the ground, but all I want is for everyone else to disappear, so I can drop all pretense and rub myself against his lean form. Twisting my head, I steal a discreet lick of his nape and shiver at the musky salt of his sweat.
I’m such a fucking goner for this bastard.
“I’m gonna kill you, motherfucker!” Clyde roars, but only the two of us know what’s provoked the outburst. Is he so furious because he liked my tongue on him?
I don’t get to think about it when he elbows me in the jaw so hard I see stars. I’m about to respond with a punch blindly, ‘cause he deserves it even if he’s a snack, when two pairs of arms pull me up. It’s a good thing I didn’t have more time on top of him, or it would have shown in my jeans.
“Just fucking stop! Enough!” Prophet yells in my ear.