Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 57406 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 287(@200wpm)___ 230(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57406 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 287(@200wpm)___ 230(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
“Oh, sweet Jesus,” she screams, as I feel her walls clamp down around my fingers so tight, I think they might break. Her body shakes and a thin layer of sweat covers her skin as she reaches the end of her orgasm. I replace my fingers, that are now dripping in her juices, with my tongue, lapping and sucking every sweet drop from her again. Removing her other leg from my shoulder, I pull her into my lap. She is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen as she lies limp in my arms, her eyes shut, trying to steady her breathing as I massage her arms and legs, while planting soft kisses on the top of her head. When she calms, I lean into her ear and whisper, “Are you ready for me to take your pussy with my cock?
“Yes,” she whispers so softly I almost don't hear her.
Turning her in my lap so her legs are straddled around my waist, I take her face in my hands and kiss the tears on her cheeks away. Softly, I kiss her lips and tell her, “Then tonight, Kitten... tonight, I will make you mine.” The word “mine” is laced with a surprising amount of possession. She pushes back a little and looks at me confused.
“Not now?”
“No, I have something very important I need to go do right now, and you are exhausted. I want you to sleep, but when I get back, I’ll spend the rest of the night worshipping every inch of you.”
Taking her lips back to mine, I kiss her gently, pick her up, and carry her to my bedroom. I place her in my bed. “Sleep. I will wake you when I get back.”
“What about the locksmith?” she mumbles sleepily.
“I’ll go by there and give them the entrance door key to get in and have them put that and your new keys in your mailbox when they are done. Now sleep,” I urge her, covering her with the comforter. Kissing her on the forehead. I leave the condo and go by the locksmith to give him the key to get in the building, along with the instructions on what to do when they are done.
Kitten gave me some details of the asshole who hit her that I’m hoping will lead me to him. The club owns two of the three tattoo shops in town so I will start there.
17
LINCOLN
At the second shop I hit pay dirt. Dingo is my man, the fucker who put his hand on C. Tim, the artist at the shop, remembered doing the tattoo of a dragon last night. Said the guy came in with a picture of the ugliest dragon he ever saw, but he's not paid to judge. Pulling his consent form, we got his address, which is on Route 6, and that is a gravel road. Tim said he came in with his roommate, guy by the name of Dylan. This could get a little messy, I know both of these little shits are Roscoe's grunts. I also know Dingo is a little punk bitch who I don't doubt would slap a girl.
Heading in the clubhouse, I walk in through the bar, ignoring everyone as I slip back to my office. “What's up, Linc?” I hear Flynn holler. I look back to see him and Billy playing a game of pool at one of the tables that sits off in the corner. I just wave and head straight through the door. I don't want to talk; I want to go kill this fucker. In my office I head over to the gun safe, opening the doors, I look around inside for the perfect weapon and spot the gun I took from her the other night laying on the bottom shelf.
“How fitting.” I grab it and a switchblade knife. Putting the knife in my boot, I remove the clip of the gun to make sure it has ammo. Well, at least she made sure it was loaded before she brought it in here. Sliding the full clip back in the gun, I position it into the waistband of my jeans. Shutting the safe. I turn around to leave and Flynn and Billy are standing side by side, arms across their chest, blocking the door.
“What's going on, Linc?” Flynn asks with accusing eyes.
“Got a problem I need to take care of.”
“Yep, I've figured that out,” he says, nodding to the gun safe behind me. “Now, you wanna tell me about it?” he continues, quirking his eyebrows up.
“It doesn't involve the club, Flynn,” I argue.
“Tell me anyway,” he answers, tilting his head.
“I'm in no mood to listen to your shit,” I spit.
“Just tell me what’s going on!” he shouts, his arms out wide as if he can take anything. Sighing, I give in, I know he is not going to let this go. “Somebody, Dingo to be exact, put his hands on that girl who lives in my building,” I say, looking at him. “C, who delivered the weed here the other night,” I explain, looking to Billy.