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Me, Please (Iron Fury MC #5)
Author/Writer of Book/Novel:
I don’t do love triangles.
Contains Adult Content.
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Life can be a bitch.
Ruthless, cold, and cruel.
I know that better than anyone.
I’ve lived it.
The problem with that is the bitterness it brings into your heart.
You try and avoid it. You try as best you can to get past it. You fight and claw your way back up to the surface to no avail. It sinks into your very soul, curling its ugly hands around your heart and keeping it held tight, keeping you in a state of feeling like you can never breathe, like it’s always going to hurt.
Before the accident, I was happy enough.
I had the club. The support. Friends. Family.
Then, with one pathetic fucking mistake, everything changed.
The woman of a man I considered a close friend was killed under my watch.
And nothing, for either of us, was ever the same.
Now, it seems like darkness surrounds me constantly. Like no matter where I fucking go, I can’t escape it. It’s always there, watching me with that big filthy grin on its face, making me wish with everything inside that it would just take me instead of tormenting me daily.
And then, I met them.
I don’t do women. Fuck knows I don’t have the time or the patience. I fuck, I leave, and that’s the end of it. Emotions mean nothing to me; I blocked that off a long time ago. But those two women, the way they get under my skin, drives me fucking crazy.
The problem is, there are two of them.
And only one of me.
How do you choose between heaven and hell?
That’s how utterly different they are.
And yet I’m equally drawn to either side. My body gravitating toward them like a moth to a flame.
I can’t stay away.
And I really, really fucking should.
Because in the end, someone will get hurt.
And I don’t know if I can take any more pain.
EARLIER – CHANTELLE
Why the fuck is it so cold?
I rub my arms and wait for the cab, hoping like hell it arrives soon. My bosoms feel like they’re about to drop right off my chest. I shiver, and the cool night air tickles my skin. Teach me for wearing slutty clothes. Although, with all those bikers in there tonight, what is a girl to do? I have to make some sort of impression. Especially after Mason carried Saskia out over his shoulder like some sort of Viking.
We all want that.
My, oh my, yes, we all want that.
I hear the low, masculine voice and turn to see Boston, in all his manly glory, staring down at me. Hot. Totally hot. Different than the other men. Not as outgoing, far quieter, but with an equal amount of danger. He has the best eyes I’ve ever seen on a man. I noticed it the moment I saw him. They’re yellow with a tinge of brown. And with his dark, thick hair that curls at the base of his neck only makes him look even hotter.
“Hey there,” I say, blinking and then shivering.
“Cold?” he asks, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it.
I want to be that cigarette, pressed between his lips, him sucking the life out of me.
Good lord, Chantelle. Calm down.
“Well, judging by my nipples, I’d go with a big fat yes. I could cut glass with them right now. They’re on high alert.”
A hint? Oh, absolutely. I’ve had my eye on Boston for a few weeks now. Of course, tonight I very nearly backed off when Saskia told me Penelope was interested, but she assured me to go for it.
I mean, she would have told me if she had feelings for him? Right?
Boston’s eyes drop to my nipples, and that gaze lingers long enough for my panties to become wet. Good god, I need to get laid. Preferably by the six-feet-tall he-devil standing right in front of me staring at my breasts like he wants to devour them.
It’s safe to say I’ve never been shy when it comes to my sexuality. Hell no. I embrace it. I’m a beautiful woman, and I know what I can and can’t have. I’d never be slutty, and I’d never take something that wasn’t mine, but I know what I want, and I’m incredibly sexual.
No shame in that.
And if anyone has something to say about it, they’re more than welcome to find my asshole and kiss it.
“You waitin’ for a cab?” he finally asks.
“Yeah and freezing my booty off. You waiting, too?”
He shakes his head and nods down the street a little. I glance over and see his bike parked up. Hot. So hot. Midnight blue, silver trimmings, big thick black seat. I’d love to know what that feels like between my legs.
“You want a ride?”
I swallow and my body buzzes. Do I want a ride? Of course I want a ride!
“Of you, or the bike?” I ask him, voice low and sultry, glancing up at him from beneath my lashes.