Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 105709 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105709 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
Finally, he rises, his lips glistening with my arousal, that fucking smirk firmly in place. He licks his lips deliberately, making sure I watch every stroke of his tongue.
“You taste even better than you look,” he says, his voice dropping to something barely human. His hands grip my waist, spinning me to face the wall. The concrete scrapes my palms as I brace myself. He kicks my legs apart with his boot.
The clink of his belt buckle is the only warning I get. Anticipation coils tight in my belly as I hear the crinkle of a condom wrapper. His heat presses against my back, his breath hot on my ear.
“You ready for me, princess?” The arrogance in his voice should piss me off, but instead, it sends another wave of heat between my thighs. I can't form words, or breathe, as his hand slides up my spine and tangles in my hair.
He pulls back, exposing my throat. His teeth graze the sensitive skin there, a sharp nip making me gasp. “I'll take that as a yes,” he murmurs, triumph evident.
The sound of his zipper makes me press back against him, seeking the friction I suddenly can't live without. His chuckle vibrates through me as his hand grips my hip with bruising force.
He drags the thick crown of his cock through my wetness, pressing just enough to make me gasp before pulling back.
My nails scrape against plaster, leaving white crescents in the paint while my breath comes in broken sobs.
“Please,” I beg, barely recognizing my voice.
“Please what?” he taunts, tightening his grip on my hair.
“Please, fuck me,” I plead, past caring about anything but the emptiness I need him to fill.
He rewards me with a growl of approval before driving into me with one brutal thrust. I cry out, my body stretching around him, pain and pleasure melding into something transcendent.
“The name's Hella,” he growls against my ear, his hips slamming into mine with enough force to shove me against the wall. “Fucking remember it.”
His pace is relentless, each pounding stroke hitting deeper than the last. The sound of skin against skin echoes in the garage, mixing with my breathless moans and his grunted curses.
My nails rake down the wall as he splits me open and rebuilds me around him. Nothing soft exists between us—only this violent hunger that demands we consume each other whole.
His hand snakes around to find my clit, circling with ruthless precision. My second orgasm crashes through me like a wrecking ball, tearing a scream from my throat that he silences with his palm over my mouth.
“Fuck,” he grunts, his rhythm faltering as he follows me over the edge with a final, brutal thrust. For one suspended moment, we're frozen together, our ragged breathing the only sound besides the distant echo of the party.
Then he pulls out, leaving me empty and shaking. I turn to face him on wobbly legs, watching as he ties off the condom and tucks himself back into his jeans. With my dress bunched around my waist, and my underwear hanging uselessly from one ankle, I fumble to pull myself together.
Jesus. Dignity? What dignity.
He looks me up and down. “What's your name again?”
I inhale; the scent of sex and leather heavy in the air. “Melissa.”
Those blue eyes flash with amusement. “Aren't you a little underdressed to be a club slut?”
My mouth drops open. “What...” But he disappears through the night. Mother fucker!
I sure know how to pick them.
"Fuck it." I brush my shoulders off and return to the party, burying the hurt beneath another layer of armour. Men take what they want. Always have. This is nothing new.
Just another scar to join my collection.
My feet drag toward the clubhouse. The trees sway overhead, branches moving in the breeze.
My phone buzzes in my pocket just as I reach the clubhouse's massive doors. I fish it out, stumbling as I step away from the noise spilling through the entrance. The screen glows with an unfamiliar number.
"Hello?" I press a finger against my other ear.
"Ms. Melissa Hart? This is Richard Donovan from Pacific West Partners."
I lean against the wall, feeling the cool wood through my dress. The ache between my thighs does nothing to numb the fact that I just fucked a nameless biker.
I shift my weight, wincing. “Yes, this is she.”
“I apologize for calling at this hour, but I'm flying out tomorrow morning and wanted to reach you personally. We've been following your bakery's growth trajectory, and I'd like to discuss a potential investment opportunity.”
Something crashes inside the clubhouse, glass shattering against the floor.
My body twitches, heartbeat spiking. The sudden reaction annoys me. I'm not as drunk as I thought.
“Ms. Hart? Are you still there?”
“Yes, sorry. You mentioned an investment?” I answer, annoyed with my current state.
“We're looking to fund expansions for promising local businesses. Cyanide & Sugar has shown growth, and we believe you're ready to scale. We'd provide capital for a second location, equipment upgrades, and marketing support.”