Total pages in book: 37
Estimated words: 33713 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 169(@200wpm)___ 135(@250wpm)___ 112(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33713 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 169(@200wpm)___ 135(@250wpm)___ 112(@300wpm)
“Look at me,” he commands, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through my entire body. I force my eyes open, blinking through the haze of pleasure. He’s watching me with a fierce, burning intensity. “Tell me who you belong to.”
“You,” I moan, the word catching in my throat as he hits a spot deep inside that makes my toes curl. “I’m yours, Diesel. Only yours.”
He growls, a deep, animal sound and increases the pace. He’s relentless, his body a blur of tattooed muscle and sweat-slicked skin. I can feel the orgasm building, a tight, frantic coil in my belly that’s threatening to snap. My vision starts to fray at the edges, the world narrowing down to the feeling of him inside me and the rough texture of the wall against my back.
“I love you,” he says, and it sounds like a vow, a sacred oath delivered in the middle of a storm. “I’ll kill for you, Ren. I’ll burn the whole world down before I let anyone touch you again.”
The intensity of his words is the final push I need. My walls shatter. I fall into the climax with a scream, my pussy clamping down on him in violent, rhythmic waves of heat. I’m shaking, my entire body vibrating with the force of the release, and I cling to him like he’s the only thing keeping me from falling into the abyss.
Diesel follows a moment later, his body stiffening as he lets out a long, guttural shout. He thrusts one last time, burying himself as deep as possible, and I feel the hot, thick spurts of his cum filling me, a pulsing warmth that makes me feel claimed in a way that goes beyond the physical. He stays there, buried inside me, his chest heaving against mine as we both try to find our breath in the wreckage of the moment.
Slowly, he slides out of me, and the sudden absence of him makes me whimper. He catches me before my feet can even hit the floor, scoops me up, and carries me into the bedroom. He lays me down on the cool sheets, but he doesn't pull away. He climbs in beside me, pulling the duvet over us and tucking my head under his chin.
It’s only early afternoon, but I feel like I could sleep the rest of the day away as the adrenaline that’s been coursing through me slowly subsides. The smell of him is everywhere, a comforting blanket that finally, truly, starts to erase the lingering chill of the morning.
I trace the ink on his chest, my fingers following the intricate lines of the red serpent wound through the chrome skull of his MC patch. His heart is still beating hard, a steady, rhythmic drum against my palm. I feel safe here, cocooned in his strength, tucked into the secret world we’ve built behind these walls.
Diesel shifts, his arm tightening around my waist as he pulls me even closer, his nose dipping into the crook of my neck. He inhales deeply, as if he’s trying to memorize the scent of me. “You’re okay, sweetness,” he whispers into my skin. “I’ve got you.”
I close my eyes, letting the weight of his body anchor me to the mattress. The fear is still there, a dull ache at the back of my mind, but it’s distant now, drowned out by the sheer, overwhelming presence of the man holding me. He isn't just my protector. He isn't just the man who saved me from a nightmare.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
DIESEL
The morning air in the Mojave hits me right in the fucking face. I stand on the edge of the scenic overlook, the gravel crunching beneath my boots with a sound that reminds me of teeth grinding together. Behind me, the black SUV idles, a low growl mimicking the vibration in my own chest. The sun is a pale, angry eye on the horizon, and in front of me, Kirk Voss looks exactly like what he is: a mistake that needs correcting.
He's sitting on the dirt, his knees pulled to his chest, wedged between Savage and Dillon, who are currently doing a very good impression of stone monuments. They don't need to touch him. Their shadows are heavy enough to keep him pinned to the desert floor. Kirk’s face is a map of sweat and terror, his UCLA sweatshirt stained with Nevada dust and the consequences of his own delusions.
"Vegas is a small town, Kirk," I say, my voice sounding like it’s been dragged through a rock crusher. I don't move toward him. I don't have to. The distance between us is filled with the cold, hard reality of the Steel Sinners, and he's finally starting to read the room. "It’s the kind of place where things disappear. Phones. Cars. Assholes who think they can scare my fucking woman."