“Reap…” I turn to his nickname for me that’s stuck over the years and has become my biker road name. “If you kill him, it will make me very fucking mad,” he says, lighting the cigar again.
“Good, I like it when I have someone to hit. What better opponent than you?”
“Asshole,” he says with a shake of his head as I walk out.
I don’t hang around to see what else Blaze has to say. Driving to her house, I make it there in record time. Rochelle’s lights are on. I slide out of my truck just as she reaches the front door. She’s wearing a short skirt, showcasing her perfectly tanned legs, her stomach is on display from a shirt that stops above her belly button, and there’s so much cleavage that I want to get lost in.
Cracking my neck from side to side, I step up to her. “Go and get changed.”
“No.”
“Change,” I demand.
“No. Take me or leave me.” Her hand goes to her naked hip, and she smirks.
“Fucking take you, all right,” I mutter, stepping away, wondering why on earth she makes me this way. How can this little redhead inflict such strong reactions and emotions from me—I’ve never felt this way.
“I heard that,” she says, breezing past me smelling like fucking flowers. Fucking flowers.
Opening the truck door for her, Rochelle climbs in, and when she does, the bottom of her ass is on display. The woman is trying to kill me. She’s only wearing a G-string, and my cock immediately strains in my trousers.
“You will be the death of me,” I say, shutting her door.
When I slide into my side, she turns to me, her pale pink lips smiling. “At least then you won’t have to deal with tearing your body to bits like you do to all the other bodies.”
“I don’t do that to all of them,” I say while putting the car in gear and pulling out into traffic.
“Oh, so I got the special treatment?” She gags.
“Yes… I knew it would scare you. It worked. You’re too pretty for this ugly world. But yet, here I am, wanting to drag you down the rabbit hole with me, pretty girl.”
“What a fucking rabbit hole,” she mutters back to me.
“I heard that.”
“Good, I meant for you to.” Pulling away, she fidgets as she sits there, and I can feel she’s doing everything possible to avoid me. To evade looking my way.
“How was your day?” I ask.
Rochelle starts laughing and then she snorts.
I can’t help the smirk that pulls on my lips just from that single action.
“Really, you’re asking me about my day?”
“It’s either that or I pull over, yank you out of the truck, and fuck you up against it,” I answer her with a shrug.
“Okay, yeah.” She nods her head. “Well, my day was fine.”
“You sure you don’t want the other option? Because I’m up for it.” I ask, raising my eyebrows.
“No. No, I do not.”
Pulling my truck to a stop at the lights, my eyes rove over her legs, which are bare.
“Your outfit says otherwise.”
Angry eyes turn on me, and my dick twitches at the sight.
Fuck, she’s hot.
And too good.
She’s too good.
The girls I fuck are dirty. I prefer them dirty because they know what to expect.
Nothing.
“Oh, so you are one of those assholes, are you? Where if I wear something short, that immediately means I’m asking to be fucked?” Angry eyes stare at me.
When she says the word ‘fucked’ it takes everything in me to not do just that—
fuck her into the middle of next week.
“No, what I’m saying is you know I want to fuck you. So, you wear an outfit that makes me want to fuck you ten times more. It’s really unfair to my cock, which is straining against my fucking pants right now.”
Rochelle’s eyes drop to my pants as I start the truck again.
“I’ve seen enough cocks to last me for this weekend. Do not get that thing out.”
Her words make me sit up straighter.
“Who’s fucking cock have you seen?”
“Snow’s.” She answers as if it’s obvious.
“If you fuck him, I’ll kill him,” I tell her, pulling up to the acreage where the party is going to be held. Again, where the fuck is this possessiveness coming from? “And you know I can get rid of the body easily,” I say, throwing the door open and walking off, leaving her in my truck.
I’m angry and I’m unsure why.
Chapter Nine
Rochelle
The bastard storms off so fast, I get whiplash, but remain in the truck.
I see everyone sitting on hay bales, girls walking around with no tops on, and men reaching for them, touching their tits as if they have the luxury to do so. I don’t want to be here and I told him that. Yet, here I am, in his truck as he storms off like he has a rocket up his ass.