Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 105506 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 528(@200wpm)___ 422(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105506 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 528(@200wpm)___ 422(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
I didn’t know how she did it. But it was a fucking treat to watch.
Well, that was until my brothers started scrambling over each other in order to try their luck with her.
That’s when my night started darkening. I’d planned on waiting it out, watching them fumble then taking her back to my room and fucking her senseless, finishing on those glorious tits of hers.
A good fuck. Nothing else.
Not very noble of me, but I didn’t consider myself to be an overly noble guy.
Then I started to want to kill my brothers. I wasn’t violent by nature. I got blood on my hands when the club required it, but I didn’t relish in it.
Yet in that moment, it was very fucking satisfying, thinking of the crunch that would come with breaking Javier’s nose.
No, I didn’t know Sariah Cardoso was mine the first time I saw her.
But I knew the second time.
CHAPTER
TWO
SARIAH
I was on the roof of a biker clubhouse staring at the stars.
And I was drunk.
Prior to the last hour, I’d been a happy drunk. Playful. Flirty. I mean, who could’ve blamed me? I was partying in a biker clubhouse with a bunch of hot dudes with tats and airs of danger.
Totally unlike the college frat boys I’d been around the past few years.
The men of the Sons of Templar showed me what kind of boys I’d been interacting with.
As expected, they all hit on me. All of the single ones, at least. And it was tempting. Javier in particular was cocky, handsome and charming. But, although I could appreciate him in all of his masculine glory, he didn’t do it for me.
None of them did.
Except for the man who had scowled at every single man who tried to pick me up. He himself didn’t try to pick me up; he just glared at the men then stared at me with some kind of self-satisfied grin that made me fear he could read my mind and knew that I wasn’t interested in fucking anyone but him.
So of course, I flirted extra heavily with Javier and ignored Colby.
I wasn’t sure when I stopped having fun. When the booze started dragging me down in melancholy, the room started feeling very small and I started feeling very alone.
Hence me seeking out the roof. Being alone when nobody was around was much more tolerable than feeling alone in a crowd of people.
I’d been settled up there for a few minutes when the ladder to my left creaked. I knew that meant someone was ascending. There was a well utilized ashtray on a table beside the chairs I had forgone. It made sense that someone was coming up here to smoke and gaze at the stars.
I didn’t move from where I was lying.
It was too late for escape, and I didn’t run from shit anyway. Apart from my childhood.
A shape settled down beside me. I knew that it was Colby because it smelled like him. Leather and some kind of spicy, subtle cologne that was unexpectedly elegant for a biker.
I’d cataloged that smell from our first meeting a few days ago. Had bookmarked it as him.
Neither of us spoke for a long while. We just laid there side by side, staring at the stars. The low thump of the music from inside the club was barely a whisper. Everything seemed quiet and peaceful. Like the whole world had stopped.
I’d never had a moment like that with anyone, especially not with a man. Especially a man who knew I was drunk and had been looking at me the way Colby had been looking at me since the first time we met.
A flash entered my mind.
I couldn’t feel my limbs.
I was being dragged into a bedroom. There were hands up my dress and I groaned in protest, unable to articulate the word no. My arms flailed uselessly as I tried to fight.
“You killed him, didn’t you?” I asked without looking at him. “The boy who raped me.”
He didn’t answer straight away. I didn’t see Colby’s expression in response to my flat tone, but his body did go solid beside mine.
“It’s my fault,” I whispered, staring at the ceiling.
Ollie, my roommate, was lying on the bed beside me. It was rare for her to come out of her room and get away from her computers. Then again, there were extenuating circumstances. I’d woken up this morning in an unfamiliar bed, without my panties, with a man who I did not consent to having sex with.
In fact, I had no memory of the night before. Except flashes of pain. Panic. Hands tearing off my clothes. Wanting to fight so terribly but my limbs not obeying.
“You’re so fucking hot,” a voice drawled in my ear.
His finger had been inside me then.
It hurt. A lot.
But it hurt more when he was fucking me, groaning on top of me. Tears had trailed down my face.