Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 59767 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 299(@200wpm)___ 239(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59767 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 299(@200wpm)___ 239(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
He takes my mouth violently. It doesn’t scare me. I kiss him back, losing myself in the taste of our lovemaking mingling and knowing that finally after years of feeling lost and alone, that I might just be finding where I belong—where I was always meant to be.
In Griffin’s arms.
19 GEORGIA
It’s been two weeks since that first night I stayed with Griffin at the clubhouse. Two weeks of pleasure like I’ve never known, late night laughter, whispered secrets, and me somehow ending up wrapped in his arms almost every night since. We haven’t gone all the way yet, but I know it’s going to happen. If Griffin pressed, I’d cave instantly, but he hasn’t. Instead, we’ve spent time learning how to pleasure one another with our hands, our mouths and getting closer.
It's good. No, it’s better than good. I can’t get enough of him, and Griffin seems to feel the same—always making a concerted effort to end the day together. Sometimes he stays over at Nana’s, and I swear those are my favorite nights. The smell of his cologne surrounding me in my room is a comfort I didn’t realize I’d been craving my whole life.
Tonight, however, is different. I’m nervous.
I’m going to the clubhouse again—and I’m taking Nana. This could be a recipe for disaster. I’ve gone through all the possible scenarios in my head and none of them end particularly well. I’ve already warned Nana—more than once—that the clubhouse is not exactly the kind of place most grandmothers hang out. She just laughed, waved me off, and told me, “Honey, I raised hell long before you were born.” Which, honestly, is exactly the problem. It’s also the main reason I’m panicking as I walk her though the front doors of the Kings of Anarchy.
When we walk inside, I have a death grip on Nana’s hand like she’s a toddler that I’m trying to keep from running into traffic. The noise of voices, laughter, and the faint smell of sex, leather and smoke hits me immediately. Most of the club is in the main area already. That means every head turns when we step into it. Eek.
Hades grins wide from his spot by the pool table and calls out, “Hey, Brushes!”
I can’t help laughing at the nickname the guys started calling me a few days ago. It seems to have stuck. “Hey, Hades,” I say as he walks over.
His gaze flicks to Nana. “You brought your grandmother to the club?”
Nana raises a brow, hands on her hips. “Am I not allowed here, boy?” she huffs, sounding more than a little peeved. Hades doesn’t know it, but he just bought himself a world of trouble if he doesn’t find a way to placate her. My Nana can be a cantankerous old woman—I’m kind of hoping that I’ll be just like her in my old age.
“Nana,” I hiss, mortified.
Hades’ lips twitch in a smile. “Not a thing, Nana. Just wondering if you play poker?”
She studies him for a second, then deadpans, “Is it strip poker? Because with all these fine specimens standing around here, I could get on board with that.”
C has moved up to join us and once he hears her, he nearly chokes on his beer. He barks out a laugh. “Nana, you saying you want to see me naked?” he questions, eyes lighting with mischief.
“Are you saying you have such little confidence in how you play the game, that you’re already saying you’re losing?” she shoots back, wiggling her eyebrows.
Now everyone’s laughing, and C grins at Nana, looking absolutely smitten. “Who is this woman? Because I think I’m in love.” I cover my face with my hand. “This is my Nana. Nana, this is Hades and C. They’re members of Griffin’s club.”
She grins up at C. “Since you’re in love with me, you can be my partner at poker. Wait—does poker have partners?”
“Not the kind we play,” C says, amused.
“And what kind do you play?”
“Five Card Stud.”
Her smile widens. “Well now, C, that sounds like my kind of game.”
“Are you sure, Nana? We play for money.”
“Now it definitely sounds like my game. Did your parents hate you so much that they only gave you a letter for a name?” she asks, wrapping her arm around C’s as if she’s claiming him—and she probably is.
C is grinning like a fool. “C stands from the name the club gave me. They call me Candyman, cause all the women think I’m sweet like candy and can’t wait to lick me.”
“No, no, no,” I whisper, already knowing what is going to happen next.
Nana pats his cheek. “Well, lucky me, Candyman, I do have a very sweet tooth.”
“Oh, God,” I mutter, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Shoot me now.”
C and Hades escort her to a table while she flirts with C and cackles the whole way. I’m wondering if I’m going to end up with a Nana in a Kings of Anarchy cut, riding a Harley when I feel strong arms wrap around my waist from behind.