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)
I’m excited by Road’s body, from his wide shoulders to his intense eyes, but also by his shameless desire for me.
“I’m getting hard. Let’s go,” I rasp, because there’s no reason to be coy with the guy I want to… do things with. I don’t know what, or how, or how much, but one way or another, we’re both getting off together today.
He smirks, and I shiver when he nips my hand before letting it drop. Heat falls over me like a blanket, and it’s so stifling I worry I might not be able to make it to our destination before—before what?
My gaze slides down his strong chest, and I inhale at the sight of the bulge at the front of his pants. My brain devoid of thought, I… touch it. It’s an out-of-body experience when I see my own hand go there and cup his cock.
He grunts, gaze trained on my face as we stand on the lonely road, between never-ending rows of trees. Maybe pulling away would have been easier if I focused on the fragrance of the woods rather than on the erection pushing at my hand.
“Found something you like, Blue Eyes?”
My breaths are shallow as I rub him with my hand. I’m conflicted about doing this with Road, but since my discovery about him, my thoughts shifted, and I can no longer see him as the guy whose face I wanna punch. Pleasuring him makes me feel weirdly subservient, but is it really, when I’m the one who wants to do it?
“Fuck…” I utter as my dick strains against my jeans.
Undress him. Suck his cock. Suck it here, on the side of the fucking road. My brain throbs with pure arousal that makes my mouth water whenever I think of his hot pulsing dick in my mouth, hairy thighs to the sides of my face, his happy groans and grunts when I take him deep—
The sound of a faraway engine makes me take a step back, but I don’t have to touch my cheeks to know I’m flushed.
He beams at me, but how can I fault him for enjoying himself? Still, I clear my throat and head straight for my bike, trying not to let him distract me again, because, fuck, I was moments away from giving him head at the side of the road.
“Sure hope that place of yours is not too far away,” Road calls out.
I don’t even answer, just hop on my bike and speed away at full throttle. He better be right behind me.
Chapter 13
Road
This could be a trap, and I’m riding straight into it, but I still follow Clyde Turner, eventually going off-road as he leads me past a fallen tree. The path behind it is impossible to spot by accident, and we stop for him to cover the tracks of our wheels with old leaves. I wouldn’t normally take my hog into this kind of terrain, but I trust Clyde wouldn’t want his own ride wrecked either, so I don’t question him as we make our way down a ravine, which opens into a clearing by the lake.
My heart beats faster, and I squeeze my handlebars, looking for any signs of other Butchers, but I see none.
We’re alone.
Clyde slows down as we drive into a clearing, and a strange sense of déjà vu hits me for a few fleeting seconds. Something about watching the Butcher patches on his back as I ride behind him. Once he parks by a small house that’s a glorified shed, I stop my bike as well.
I’m overwhelmed by the excitement of being alone with him. I can hardly pay attention to the fresh scent of trees around us, the sunshine, the lake glittering in the distance behind some bushes, because when he takes off his jacket and glances at me, he is my only focus. The patches are off, and though I know he still has the tattoo all over his back, it’s hidden under a black T-shirt. I swear the top is much tighter than he usually wears. It shows off his trim waist, wide shoulders, and hugs his biceps, inviting my touch.
Unlike to the meeting where he claimed he’d stab me to death, the long blond hair of my metalhead dreams flows freely, so I’m guessing he’s not anticipating being grabbed by it for reasons other than pleasure.
“I got the whole day off,” he says, watching me. I can’t wait to find out what that means, but I hope he’ll let me fuck him without distractions.
I dismount my bike and take a step toward him, approaching as if he were a stag with its antlers stuck between the branches of a tree. His chest is working faster now, and while his hands remain open, I can see the slightest tremble in his fingers, as if he were struggling against the instinct telling him that letting the predator close might be the end of him.