Preppy: The Life & Death of Samuel Clearwater Read Online T.M. Frazier (King #5)

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Angst, Bad Boy, Biker, Crime, Dark, Erotic, Funny, MC, Romance Tags Authors: Series: King Series by T.M. Frazier
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Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 79374 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
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“You can’t go anywhere, Doc,” Preppy said, sounding bored.

“Oh yeah? And why the hell not?” I asked, finding my footing and pulling up. One step down. I looked up. About seventy to go.

“You can’t go anywhere ’cause you’ve got nowhere to go,” he answered. Although, I knew what he was really saying, that without him keeping my secret from Mirna, I couldn’t stay there. “Truth hurts, don’t it?”

“The truth?” I asked, growing more irritated by the second. I growled when my foot slipped from a rock. Holding on tighter I tried again, this time landing my foot on a smooth rock that felt like it would hold. “What would you know about truth? About honesty?” I asked, looking back over my shoulder where, unfortunately, he was still shirtless, his thumbs tucked into his pockets as he watched me climb. Even though we were arguing, his gaze was fixated on my ass until he finally decided that my face was also worthy of his attentions. “All you’ve been doing is playing games and toying with me. First, you act like you want to kill me, and then you act like you’re saving me, then you’re ignoring me completely, and now you want to take me out and pretend like you haven’t been playing some sort of game with me that I never agreed to play!” I shouted, just as the rock I thought would hold gave out and I slid the foot and a half I’d climbed back to the ground. I hit the rock with my closed fist and surprised myself when I made a dent.

“First, I said you couldn’t go anywhere not because I was being a dick, but because that type of rock you’re trying to climb crumbles like chalk and doesn’t hold much weight.” I let my forehead fall against my rock nemesis.

“SECOND, I think I liked you better when you were all crying and weepy over your shitty life, because this stubborn-chick thing is starting to be a real pain in my dick,” Preppy said. “And last, but not motherfucking least, I may be a lot of things, Doc. A criminal. Sure. A very good dresser. Absolutely. A man with a huge cock. Fuck, yes.” His face grew serious. “But I’m no fucking liar.” For the first time, there was no joke behind his words. No cocky smile or punchline to follow.

“Yeah?” I asked, just as an idea hit me. He’d put me in my place by throwing the H back in my face, and maybe it was time I put him in his. “Then let’s find out,” I said casually. I hopped back down the rocks and marched right back up to Preppy, who looked amused as all hell as I crossed my arms over my chest and tapped my foot on the ground.

“Oh yeah? How do you think you’re gonna prove that?” I couldn’t wait to wipe that smirk right off his face.

“SHOW ME.” I demanded, pointing to his crotch.

“Now we’re getting somewhere,” Preppy said, biting his bottom lip.

I shook my head. “I don’t want to fuck you. I want to see it. ALL of it. NOW. Since you say you’re not a liar, and I’ve been hearing about this monster cock, this thick dick, this whatever the fuck you seem to want to call the third man living in your pants, it occurred to me that you’re probably only talking about it so much because you have some sort of complex about it. Like the way short men are aggressive, or the way older men buy sports cars.” In my head, I’d already won this challenge and was well on my way back to Mirna’s where we could pretend the entire day never happened. “The way I see it, this is me.” I took a step toward him, pushing my index finger into his chest. “Calling your bluff.” I lowered it and pointed again to his pants. “Now strip.”

Preppy took a step back and, for a second, I thought he was going to tell me to fuck off. I was already planning my victory ‘flipping of the bird’ when he slowly tipped his chin up to me, accepting my challenge. He again removed his gun and set it on a rock.

“What do I get if you’re wrong?” he asked, hooking his thumbs in his pants and boxers, like he was about to pull them down. Yeah, definitely a move by someone who was bluffing. I was calling him out on his, and now he was calling me out on mine.

“What do you want?” I asked, curious as to what he would even want.

“Three minutes,” he said, without a second of hesitation.

“Excuse me?”

“Not to fuck you,” he said, and I let out the breath I was holding. “That would at least take four.” He taunted me more by lowering his pants, stopping just above what the fuss was all about. “Three minutes, and I can do whatever I want to you.”


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