Preppy: The Life & Death of Samuel Clearwater Read Online T.M. Frazier (King #5)

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Angst, Bad Boy, Biker, Crime, Dark, Erotic, Funny, MC, Romance Tags Authors: Series: King Series by T.M. Frazier
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Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 79374 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
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It was then I knew he was capable of things I couldn’t even fathom.

Where Conner and Eric were bad guys in an obvious way, they didn’t instill in me the same kind of fear this man did.

I’d thought I’d known true fear when I’d stood on the ledge and decided to recklessly end it all, but I hadn’t. I hadn’t even known it when Conner and Eric had beat me, brutalized me, and then took turns forcing themselves on me.

Into me.

No.

I never knew true fear until I met pure evil.

He wore a smile and a bow tie.

CHAPTER FOUR

PREPPY

The night had taken a turn for the worse when I showed up to Mirna’s house on the tail end of being robbed of my fucking plants.

However, I was now straddling a naked chick on top of the water tower, which was one of my favorite places in Logan’s Beach.

Shit was looking up.

Although, when I followed her up to the tower I hadn’t known she was planning to defile my sacred space by tossing her boney body off of it.

There was something about her, something almost familiar, although I knew I hadn’t met her before. I watched as she stood stark naked, with her face tilted toward the sky, and her arms out, like she was king of the world on the front of the motherfucking Titanic. She was fascinating.

The bitch was in rough shape. Bruises and dried blood patched all over her skin made her look like a puzzle missing some pieces. I’d stood there in the shadows, taking in the sight before me for such a long time that I almost missed the slight tilt of her body in a forward motion. If I was a nanosecond later in making a run for her I’d be calling for a clean up instead of sitting on top of her, caging her in with my thighs. Fuck, if she hadn’t been such a tiny waif of a thing, she probably would’ve pulled me over with her.

“Why did you save me?” she suddenly asked, pausing her adorable struggling which was getting her nowhere fast.

“Awe, thats cute,” I said, peering down into her doll-like eyes that were so dark, they were almost black.

She huffed, her small perky tits heaved up and down as she tried to catch her breath. So did her rib cage, which was outlined under her purple and yellowed skin. Her collarbone was sharp and so were her elbows. She reminded me of one of those starving dog commercials with the sad music playing in the background. “What’s cute?” she asked on a strained exhale.

“That you think you’ve been saved.”

“Well, I’m not dead,” she argued.

“Yet,” I shrugged. “It’s hard to get answers from a flattened corpse. Trust me. I’ve tried.”

She growled and tried to free her arms from my grasp, and that’s when I got a better look at the inside of her arms. Suddenly, it sunk in that this chick wasn’t just covered in bruises, these were pock marks. She wasn’t just some skinny bitch.

She was a junkie.

Bruised. Broken.

Vulnerable.

She was shaking like a fucking leaf, and with every tremble my dick grew harder until it was begging to be free of its khaki confines.

She gasped, when she felt me hard against her leg, “What…why?”

I raised my eyebrows. “Really? Why? My cock only knows that I’m on top of a naked chick. It’s simple biology. Don’t feel too flattered, I once got a chubby when the lady who runs the deli tried to wipe a mustard stain off the front of my pants.” If she really knew that I was thinking about how her bruises and dried blood looked like art under the moonlight, and how I’d like to paint a line or two on her skin myself, she’d probably scream.

Loud.

I grew even harder.

“What’s your name?” I asked, easing up on my grip, slightly.

“Why?” she asked, warily, her voice now a whisper.

I rolled my eyes. “So I can know what to doodle on the cover of my notebook,” I said, sarcastically. “Okay, so here is how this is gonna go. I’m going to let go of you and let you sit up. Then I’m going to introduce myself, and then you’re going to introduce yourself. Got it?”

She tipped her chin in agreement and never took her eyes off me, even when I let her go. She tried to sit up but was struggling, her muscles visibly shaking from the strain. At the rate she was going I’d be next to throw myself off the tower from the pure boredom of waiting. She swatted at my chest when I picked her up by her hips and pulled her up to a sitting position, pressing her back against the wall. I grabbed her hands in mine. “No hitting,” I said, shaking my index finger at her like I was scolding a toddler.


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