Read Online Ride (Alpha Male Romance): In Between the Covers (Carolina Bad Boys #3) by Rie Warren - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Rie Warren
Ads: Link
hot. She just needed to be uncovered . . . unclothed. And on my cock.
I got a bad rap all around. Rich boy prince who lived off his daddy’s AmEx, drove a motorcycle, had a tat or two, and liked to run around. It wasn’t totally like that. Cut off from the trust fund tray at the age of eighteen because Daddy Everly was nothing if not a hard ass, I’d had put my other head to good use.
Everly was raising an heir to the Texan oil field fortune, not a spoon-fed pussy with no business sense. Luckily I had the brains to match my brawn, as well as a side project that kept me flush enough to more than scrounge my way through my years at A&M.
Bad boy this, bad boy that, gossip about my “hit the tail and run” rep followed me like the exhaust fumes from my Harley. I didn’t really give a bunny’s cunt, unless it came to Ave. Until it had come to Ave . . . Avery.
Jesus, the dent she’s making in my ego is as big as the Grand Fucking Canyon.
I’d upped the stakes with Ave. She’d doubled-down. I had a way better poker face.
I smirked into the mirror on my closet door, drawing on jeans that had been rumpled on the floor the night before when I’d kicked them off. Adding a T-shirt, my favorite leather, a Marlboro Red dangling from my mouth, I made a clean sweep of the apartment on my way out.
In the bathroom, Ave’s towel flopped over mine. I shook them both out and hung them on the towel bar. Inhaling her scent, I closed my eyes. Her natural fragrance was jasmine or honeysuckle or some summer-sweet perfume. The same flowers my mama let free-range in the back forty. The smell swilled to my nose and percolated my prick.
I wasn’t making a full-on chef fucking breakfast every morning for Ave because I was a nice guy. Hell no. I expected some payback in return. The payback—when it finally happened—better be big, grand even. It had better include something close to total capitulation, and Ave’s heart.
I’d definitely expected a nice hard slap from across the breakfast table when I’d laid out my little challenge. It would’ve been excellent to goad her out of her shell, to see a spark of hot temper flare in her eyes. Instead, what I’d gotten was so much better I’d almost busted a nut in the breakfast nook. The lowering of her lashes, the tight hard peaks of her nipples—through another tent-like blouse, for crissakes.
The one bright spot was our early morning rides to campus. Ave had no choice but to hold onto me. She couldn’t help but laugh out loud when I hammered down on the throttle. She squeezed me tighter when I took extra sharp corners. She didn’t know it, but one day I was going to teach her how to drive my Harley. Then I was gonna ride her on my Harley.
Ave could deny it all she wanted but she was game. And it was on.
Striding outside, I smiled when I saw her standing beside my motorcycle. She didn’t have a car, just the bicycle, and she barely held down her job at Starfucks because she was so intent on getting the grades.
She kept tucking checks inside my wallet for her share of the rent. I left them under her pillow, torn into neat piles of paper.
Ave was never going to pay me for what I gave her. I had enough of getting paid for services rendered already, and I wouldn’t dirty our relationship with money matters.
The chinstrap of her helmet was so tight it cut into her neck. I loosened it, desperate to drag it off, push my fingers through her hair, make out with her right then and there.
“Loosen up, precious.” I climbed on and patted the seat behind me.
The leather groaned, and I did too as her thighs wrapped around mine. Timid arms trapped my stomach.
“I ain’t gonna bite ya.” I snapped my teeth in her direction, laughing when she swore beneath the helmet in garbled words. “Hang on tight.”
Ave did. Her inner thighs gripping my legs through every corner made me hornier and hornier.
Maybe I was a fuckup. Maybe I had millions of dollars at my fingertips. Maybe I’d
I got a bad rap all around. Rich boy prince who lived off his daddy’s AmEx, drove a motorcycle, had a tat or two, and liked to run around. It wasn’t totally like that. Cut off from the trust fund tray at the age of eighteen because Daddy Everly was nothing if not a hard ass, I’d had put my other head to good use.
Everly was raising an heir to the Texan oil field fortune, not a spoon-fed pussy with no business sense. Luckily I had the brains to match my brawn, as well as a side project that kept me flush enough to more than scrounge my way through my years at A&M.
Bad boy this, bad boy that, gossip about my “hit the tail and run” rep followed me like the exhaust fumes from my Harley. I didn’t really give a bunny’s cunt, unless it came to Ave. Until it had come to Ave . . . Avery.
Jesus, the dent she’s making in my ego is as big as the Grand Fucking Canyon.
I’d upped the stakes with Ave. She’d doubled-down. I had a way better poker face.
I smirked into the mirror on my closet door, drawing on jeans that had been rumpled on the floor the night before when I’d kicked them off. Adding a T-shirt, my favorite leather, a Marlboro Red dangling from my mouth, I made a clean sweep of the apartment on my way out.
In the bathroom, Ave’s towel flopped over mine. I shook them both out and hung them on the towel bar. Inhaling her scent, I closed my eyes. Her natural fragrance was jasmine or honeysuckle or some summer-sweet perfume. The same flowers my mama let free-range in the back forty. The smell swilled to my nose and percolated my prick.
I wasn’t making a full-on chef fucking breakfast every morning for Ave because I was a nice guy. Hell no. I expected some payback in return. The payback—when it finally happened—better be big, grand even. It had better include something close to total capitulation, and Ave’s heart.
I’d definitely expected a nice hard slap from across the breakfast table when I’d laid out my little challenge. It would’ve been excellent to goad her out of her shell, to see a spark of hot temper flare in her eyes. Instead, what I’d gotten was so much better I’d almost busted a nut in the breakfast nook. The lowering of her lashes, the tight hard peaks of her nipples—through another tent-like blouse, for crissakes.
The one bright spot was our early morning rides to campus. Ave had no choice but to hold onto me. She couldn’t help but laugh out loud when I hammered down on the throttle. She squeezed me tighter when I took extra sharp corners. She didn’t know it, but one day I was going to teach her how to drive my Harley. Then I was gonna ride her on my Harley.
Ave could deny it all she wanted but she was game. And it was on.
Striding outside, I smiled when I saw her standing beside my motorcycle. She didn’t have a car, just the bicycle, and she barely held down her job at Starfucks because she was so intent on getting the grades.
She kept tucking checks inside my wallet for her share of the rent. I left them under her pillow, torn into neat piles of paper.
Ave was never going to pay me for what I gave her. I had enough of getting paid for services rendered already, and I wouldn’t dirty our relationship with money matters.
The chinstrap of her helmet was so tight it cut into her neck. I loosened it, desperate to drag it off, push my fingers through her hair, make out with her right then and there.
“Loosen up, precious.” I climbed on and patted the seat behind me.
The leather groaned, and I did too as her thighs wrapped around mine. Timid arms trapped my stomach.
“I ain’t gonna bite ya.” I snapped my teeth in her direction, laughing when she swore beneath the helmet in garbled words. “Hang on tight.”
Ave did. Her inner thighs gripping my legs through every corner made me hornier and hornier.
Maybe I was a fuckup. Maybe I had millions of dollars at my fingertips. Maybe I’d
Similar Books
