Total pages in book: 38
Estimated words: 35499 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 177(@200wpm)___ 142(@250wpm)___ 118(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 35499 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 177(@200wpm)___ 142(@250wpm)___ 118(@300wpm)
What more could these men take?
My soul was sold long before I rode into this compound on the back of a bike.
Legion is asking me to submit to him under the watchful gaze of his biker brothers. To convince them I am his. I will obey. I will not be a threat, or a liability, or a weakness.
I will be a good girl who does as she’s told.
I will fit in.
Fine. If this is the cost, it’s a price I can pay.
I reach down, grab the hem of my t-shirt and hoodie, and I pull them up over my head.
No bra, tits right in his face.
The approvals all around me are immediate.
Legion's smile, and his relief, also happen instantaneously. He looks me in the eyes and says, "This is just part one, just so you know. The sex, it's just part one."
CHAPTER 8
I keep my voice low, meant only for her, but I know every fucking man in this room is straining to hear. "You ready to show them who you belong to?"
Savannah's eyes hold mine, blue as high-country sky, wide but not afraid. Not anymore. There's something else there now—determination. Spite, maybe. The kind that carries you through disappointment.
She stands up from my lap, slow and deliberate, like she's got all night and we're the only two people in the room. Every head is turned this way. All eyes on her bare back, on the curve where her spine disappears into my jeans riding low on her hips. But she doesn't acknowledge them. Not once.
Her focus is a physical thing, like hands on my skin. She doesn't look away from my face as she kneels down in front of me and reaches for my belt. Her fingers work the buckle with practiced ease.
"Lift," she whispers, and I raise my hips so she can tug my jeans down.
My cock falls out. It lies along my thigh, hard and thick.
She licks her lips, then whispers, "Beautiful," like we're alone.
Somewhere behind her, Diesel coughs. Chains mutters something I can't make out. I don't give a fuck. Not when Savannah's hands are sliding up my thighs.
She tugs at my jacket, and I lean forward so she can pull it off and down my arms. The cut comes off next. Then my shirt follows, up and over my head.
Now we're even. Both half-naked in a room full of fully-dressed men. Both vulnerable. Both choosing this.
Her hand wraps around my cock, and I hiss through my teeth at the contact. Her palm is soft, her grip firm as she strokes me, base to tip, slow and measured.
"That's it," I murmur, just for her. "Show me what that hand can do."
She works me steadily, her rhythm perfect, her eyes never leaving mine. I slide down in the cushions a little more, giving her better access, spreading my legs wider.
"Fuck, Savannah," I breathe, as her thumb circles the head, spreading the wetness there. "Yeah, baby. Just like that."
The room around us fades. The men, the smoke, the worn-out couch beneath me—it all disappears until there's nothing but her grip on my shaft and her eyes locked with mine.
Savannah licks her lips and I nod. “Yes,” I say, giving her permission. “You can suck me off now, baby. Take my cock in your mouth.”
She leans down, and the first touch of her mouth against my cock is pure bliss. Warm and wet. Her lips part to take me in and I can't stop the groan that escapes. My hands find her hair, tangling in the soft strands, not to guide, but to anchor myself. To remind myself this is real.
"Christ, you're perfect," I tell her as she takes me deeper, her tongue flat against the underside. "Look at you, you perfect fuckin' angel. Taking my cock so good. Like you mean it."
She hums around me, the vibration shooting straight up my spine. Her eyes are on mine, pupils blown wide, as she works me with her mouth.
"That's it, baby," I encourage, my voice rougher now. "Fuck, you're so beautiful with your lips stretched around me."
She hollows her cheeks, sucking harder, and I tighten my grip in her hair.
"You like that?" I ask, knowing she does. "You like the taste of me?"
She nods slightly, never breaking rhythm, never looking away.
"Tell me," I demand, needing to hear it. Needing everyone to hear it.
She pulls off with an obscene pop, her lips wet and swollen. "I love it," she says, loud enough for the room to hear. "I love the way you taste. The way you feel in my mouth."
Then she's back on me, taking me deeper this time, until I feel the back of her throat.
"Fuck," I groan, lifting my hips up, pushing myself deeper. Unable to hold back. "Just like that, Savannah. Take it all."
Her hand works what her mouth can't, twisting slightly on the upstroke in a way that makes my thighs tense. Every time the tip of my head hits the top of her mouth, I grit my teeth. My breathing gets heavier, more ragged as she finds a rhythm that's pushing me toward the edge faster than I want.