“You fucking bitch!” I dodge the wide swing of his arm as he punches the wall instead, his other hand holding his face where—oh yes—blood is pouring from his nose. “Ah!”
“Why do men like you think that calling a woman a bitch is an insult? All it does is show me how small your vocabulary range—and probably dick—really are.” I shrug, the years of training at a boxing gym near my mum’s old house helping me to avoid each of this prick’s weak swings.
I punch him again, straight and true, into his stomach, fist-pumping when he doubles over, winded. I’m ready to walk away, satisfied, but the roar of motorcycle engines catches my attention. Maybe they…ooof.
Shit.I took my eyes off of my opponent and now I’m on my arse after having my feet swept from beneath me. My elbows sting from the rough asphalt and I’m sure I’ve torn a hole in my jacket, but that’s the least of my worries as the long-haired grease machine practically dives on me and his meaty fist lands against my cheek.
“That fucking hurt!” I punch him back, then push my arm into his mouth when he yells, scrabbling around the area beside me for something to stab him with. I’ll probably have to get a rabies shot because his teeth rip open the skin on my arm, but my left hand finally finds something that feels sharp. Stabby.
He wraps a palm around my neck and starts to apply pressure.
“Harder, baby.” I grin, tasting the sweet tang of copper in my mouth, no doubt coloring my teeth with red stains.
“Crazy fucking bitch.” His other hand joins the first one and I laugh as my airway is restricted.
I don’t have long before I’m out for the count at this rate and I want to live, so I’m breaking my own rule for the night. I was just going to fuck him up a little, teach him a lesson in how to talk to women, but he’s gone too far and the dumpsters here are the perfect place to put a dead body.
Blood pools from his nose as I keep punching at it, quickly lifting my other arm to stab him in the neck. Once. Twice. And Ihave to stop myself from busting into song withThree Times A Lady…
I uncurl my fist from his face when I notice three of my new nails are broken. It only makes my anger rise because they were fucking expensive. A treat to myself two days ago.
Dropping the sharp stone, or whatever was on the ground beside us, I opt for punching him as his hold on my neck loosens significantly.
“I.” I slam my fist into his side while trying to push his dying body off me. “Wanted.” Another punch. “To.” Again. “Look.” Punch. “Nice.” Punch.
“You’re a f-fucking bitch…” Then there’s some mumbling, and his body goes lax, heavy…
“Get off me!”
Seconds later, the weight is gone and I’m free, the rapey wanker being held up with ease and a knife to his throat by an underwear model in leathers.
“Oh my God, he almost suffocated me. Thanks, dude.” I stand, dusting myself off as best I can, but the only thing getting the blood out of my clothes at this point is an incinerator. Fuck.
The underwear model—because no real human is this devastatingly sexy—slowly realizes that the dead weight is…well…dead, and he raises his brows as he drops the man to the asphalt.
Fighting and sex go hand in hand and my pussy is throbbing for attention, and the way this model is looking at me is sending my clit into overdrive. It feels like it’s in complete control as my nipples pebble beneath my top and my hands rise to my mouth, my fingers pressed against my lips.
“Oops?”
He stares for a moment longer before bursting into laughter and the sound…oh, the sound…it’s like electricity is buzzing through my veins and setting me alight.
Then I actually take a moment and register what it says on his leather cut.Sons of Khaos. Road Captain.
He’s one of them.
Oh, God. What if it’s him?
I’ve just imagined how many ways his dick can penetrate all of my holes and now…
I think I’m going to vomit.
Chapter Four
Grinder
“Dude, what the fuck? I’ve been wai—oh shit. C’mon, man. Again?” Boner’s tone goes from impatience to exasperation faster than a Ducati full throttle on the Autobahn.
I get it. This isn’t my first bloody rodeo with a dead body that needs to be disposed of, but he doesn’t understand.