Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 100257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 501(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 501(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
“I’ll get the doctor on call for some ball cream,” Bull said.
“Why don’t you come and have some fun with me?” Rusty asked. “We could tag team them. You used to enjoy that.”
“Go. I’ve got to head back to the club.” Sitting at the bar didn’t appeal to him. He sipped at his beer. Everyone but Pat went to go and corrupt the party full of engaged women.
“Not your scene?” Bull asked.
“No,” Pat said. He’d gotten home five years ago after finishing his final tour, an ex-soldier, but Bull had an idea the man had a lot more going on than being just a man to take orders.
No one talked to Pat about his nightmares, not then, and certainly not now. They were few and far between. Most of the time, they came when he allowed himself to let go. To just drink and drink until the memories faded, but it was like the alcohol let his guard down in his sleep because that was when the real shit happened.
“I’m heading back to the clubhouse. You want to come?”
Pat slapped his hand against the counter. On their way out, their boys cheered for them, and the women pouted as if they didn’t have enough cocks between them to keep them satisfied.
Bull went straight to his bike, straddling his machine that looked brand fucking new. He’d had this beast for nearly twenty years. The first bike his father had ever bought him. The only bike that had ever been purchased for him. He’d kept her in good nick, but being a mechanic helped him to keep all of the club running smoothly.
Turning over the ignition and feeling his baby purr to life, this was the stuff dreams were made of. He revved the gears and felt the power beneath his thighs.
Pat was already out of the bar’s parking lot and on the road. The guy was going to have to talk to someone soon, otherwise, he was going to crack.
Bull, while he was on his own, took a great deal of pleasure in just existing with his bike, enjoying the feel of her, but in doing so, it allowed his mind to wander, and he started to think of Maddie. The sweet, curvy woman he wanted to fuck.
There was no point denying it.
He’d tried to ignore his feelings for her. The desire to bend her over the nearest surface and to rub every single inch of those curves until he memorized them by touch alone. It wouldn’t be a hardship either.
Maddie had a body made for being touched. Actually, she had a body made to be worshiped.
He had fucked his way through a variety of women in his lifetime, and he was always drawn to the curves. To the full-figured woman. Maddie would fit into his arms with ease.
Bull wouldn’t be afraid of breaking her, unlike so many other women.
His dick was already getting hard thinking about it, but he wasn’t going to bang on some woman’s door, demanding to know why she was being so difficult.
Women fell on the floor for him. Practically begged him to fuck them. Maddie wasn’t like that. She didn’t beg, but one day, she was going to, and that victory would be so sweet.
After pulling out of the parking lot, he headed toward the clubhouse, not caring about the noise he made or the people he disturbed as he pushed his bike into doing what he wanted.
Chapter Two
“I am so sorry, Maddie. You know I would keep you if I could,” Casey said.
Maddie sat down in the diner, staring at the large cup of coffee. It wasn’t fancy. It didn’t have any of the foamed milk she loved so much. It was just a regular cup of coffee and to her, there was nothing wrong in that, but today had sucked.
She worked many jobs. The library being just one of them, but it did take up most of her day. The pay hadn’t been great, but now, due to a reduction in funding once again, she had lost that job this very morning.
The main source of her income.
The coffee wasn’t going to help.
She needed to find a job, pronto.
The neatly folded newspaper lay on the table, and she had no choice but to open it and start looking.
Since she left high school, she had been employed by the library. Her mother had been so upset with her at the time, wanting to know why she was in such a boring job.
“Good men don’t go to the damn library. You are going to die a virgin and alone, Maddie French.”
Again, no mincing words from her mother.
She picked up her coffee and took a sip. It was delicious. Carl, the diner’s owner, took pride in his food not being stereotyped. If you wanted a good meal, even by candlelight, he would see to it. He was a trained chef who had returned to Carnage, taken over the diner from his father, and turned the once-crumbling building into a place of refuge for most of the townsfolk who didn’t want to cook for themselves.