Page 112 of Tormented
One of the few times I agree with you.
“You’re so full of shit,” King says with a laugh. “See you when you get here.” He disconnects.
I pocket my phone and stretch both legs out as she stops before me. “What you got there?”
“Salted Caramel Mocha Frappuccino.”
“I don’t think you said anything that made sense other than salted caramel.”
“Try it.” She tips the plastic cup toward me.
I frown.
Bitch steps closer, tapping the green straw on my bottom lip. “Come on, pretty boy. You know you wanna.”
I open my mouth enough to let her slip the tip of the straw inside, and besides the caramel, I can taste her on the plastic before I start sucking. Fuck it all if my dick doesn’t get hard at how erotic she can make a goddamn Starbucks drink.
“How’s that?” Her gaze is hooded as she watches me lick my lips.
“Better than I gave it credit for.”
“Mmm.” She pops the straw back in her mouth and turns away, swinging that tight little ass as she walks the few feet to the truck. “Ready to go?”
Fuckin’ more than she knows.
***
Forty-eight minutes later we’re waiting at the gate to the Lincoln compound. Yeah, I may have pushed her to go a little faster. The raging fucking boner trying to punch a hole in my jeans most of the trip might have had something to do with that.
She fucks like a damned angel, and she has no hang-ups about the sick shit I do to let off steam. Then she goes and teases me with a fucking frappe-what-the-fuck-ever-it-was.
The girl’s toxic.
And this sick fucker loves poison.
You’re such a lovesick fool . . . .
What can I say? When I find the rare ones that fit my bent mold, I fall hard and fast.
Much like this goddamn prospect is going to if he doesn’t open that motherfucking gate any quicker.
“You need to do your fuckin’ job and clean the tracks, you lazy piece of shit,” I yell at him over the sound of my engine.
His eyes go wide as saucers, and the kid pulls some extra muscle out of his ass to get the damn thing wide enough for us to pass through. I swing left, taking the bike straight to Fingers for him to work his magic, while Abbey backs the truck into its park to the right of the doors.
“You didn’t come all that way just to see me?” Fingers teases as I kill the engine and kick the stand out. He wipes his hands off on a rag, and wanders over. “Givin’ you any trouble?”
I dismount and look around at his new workshop, letting out a long low whistle. “Flash as, brother.” The guys rebuilt the garage ground up, adding a few bonuses for the old guy.
“Everything I need,” he says with a smile akin to a proud father. “And still shiny as new. But you would have known that if you’d stopped by like you said you would when you saw Mack last week.” His smile falls to a quick frown.
“I had other engagements.”
He gives me a knowing nod, and then shifts his focus over my shoulder. The old wrinkled man’s eyes go soft and he holds out one arm. Abbey bypasses me and tucks herself into his side.
“There’s my girl. How did the truck go with the new rings we put in?”
“Much better. We should have done it six months ago.”