Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 72756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 364(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 364(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
I dig my nails into his back, holding on as he fucks me harder and faster. I'm completely naked to him, but his jeans are still around his thighs, rubbing against me with each hard thrust. I always imagined my first time being like I've heard so many women talk about in whispers with each other. Awkward and painful, fumbling in the dark as someone with no experience tries to last long enough to finish the act. But this is nothing like that. It's rough, primal and absolutely perfect.
“Oh God! Crash!” I cry out as another orgasm builds.
“Come for me,” he orders, driving into me harder and faster. “Now.”
I scream as pleasure crashes over me, sending shockwaves through my body and making me spasm around his shaft. Eyes squeezed tight, an orgasmic light show bursts in my head. Every nerve in my body tightens like a bow string, pulled to the breaking point before release leaving me collapsing on the bed in a pool of molten pleasure.
“Fuck,” he snarls, voice tight like he's dancing on that same edge.
The full implication of that slowly dawns on me. “I'm not on birth control!”
“Shit,” he grits out, driving deep one more time before pulling out with a groan and grabbing his shaft with one hand, jerking himself roughly as thick streams of cum shoot across my belly and breasts, slick reminders of how close that was.
My fingers explore the strange new experience, shocked by how turned on I am by the messy sight of him coming all over me. My skin tingles and my core throbs, slightly disappointed that I didn't get to feel him come inside me.
“Sorry,” he mutters, catching his breath. “I should've thought.”
“Don't apologize,” I whisper, blushing furiously. “I liked it.”
He chuckles. “Yeah? Good. Because once we get you back to the club, there's a lot more to learn.”
A loud bang sounds in the night, startling me right out the moment. Was that…
“Fuck,” hisses Crash. “Where the hell is Preacher?”
“Crash?” I stare up at him with big eyes. “Was that a—”
“Gunshot.”
The door slams open, revealing Preacher. “Fucking can't leave you alone for a second, can I? Get your cock back in your pants. Time to go, kids.”
16
PREACHER
“What the fuck are you up to?” I whisper under my breath. Crash has been gone long enough to make me nervous. If I wanted to stand around waiting, I would’ve become a PI.
Any movement out there? I send to Devil.
Nothing. Something up?
Not sure yet. Be ready.
I slip a little further into the house, though calling it a house is a stretch. It’s a fucking mansion. If I didn’t know so much shit about Crash’s history, and what Summer’s told us, I’d think it was impressive. But now all I can feel how is how fucking dead and empty it is. Like a movie set that nobody was meant to live in.
It’s fucking cavernous, and the farther in I go, the bigger it seems. Somewhere in the background, there's the low rumble of a machine—a dishwasher or a dryer, maybe. So there’s staff here at least. Daddy Hale isn’t washing his own underoos.
I pause on a kind of bridge or walkway over the foyer. A staircase almost as wide as the hall comes up to this floor underneath me, softly lit with dim wall lamps. Movement catches my attention below. Someone's coming up. If I hadn’t seen his picture in the police report, I might never have connected Grayson to Timothy Smith, but now that I know, it’s fucking obvious.
How did he end up here?
What’s his con?
I follow him so hard with my eyes as he passes beneath me I'm surprised he doesn't feel it digging into his back. I hunch down in the shadows behind the railing as he reaches the top. Would be easier if I was a smaller guy, but he’s walking around like he owns the place, without a glimmer of fear that he could be in danger. The fucker’s been off the streets too long. He’s gotten soft.
He looks around briefly, then heads in exactly the wrong direction. As soon as he rounds the corner, I sneak after him. Whatever the fuck he's up to, I want to know, and if he finds Crash or Summer, it will be the last thing he does.
Grayson turns again, cocking his head as if to hear better. He gets a strange look on his face, one that my gut says means trouble.
Fuck.
As quietly as I can, I get close to him, using a corner for cover. Then I hear what he probably heard. Sex.
God dammit, Crash.
Am I surprised? Not for a fucking second, but shit. At least I know where he and step-sis are hanging out.
Grayson dips his hand towards his belt. What, is he going to fucking jerk off to them? I’m judging hard here, Timmy boy.