laughed. “I want them. I want a fourth and fifth, too.”
“Yeah?”
He hooked his thumb under my chin and lifted my face to his. “Yeah. Probably more. You’re fun. I can’t say I’ve ever destroyed so many things while trying to have sex.”
I rolled my eyes. “That’s probably just me. I have really bad luck usually.”
He scoffed. “Your really bad luck led you to my motorcycle so I don’t want to knock it.”
“I’m glad you came over.”
He leaned down and kissed me. “Of course. I should’ve realized you weren’t ready to go to the clubhouse yet.”
I climbed on top of him and straddled his chest. “I’m not sure I’m made to be the quiet submissive type. Do you think there’s room for me at the clubhouse just the way I am?”
His eyes trailed low and a grin transformed his handsome face. “I’ll make room. Once you’re my old-”
I held my breath as he cut himself off. He’d almost called me his old lady. I waited patiently as he seemed to think about his words.
“I haven’t done this in a while but I think I’m supposed to ask you out on a date before I ask you to be my old lady. So… Do you want to go out with me?”
I laughed. “That sounds perfect. As long as you keep giving me these self-defense lessons.”
Ramsey hooked his arms under my thighs and dragged my body higher on his chest until I was vulgarly spread out right above his mouth. “Your next lesson? Never let a biker get his mouth on you. Once he does, you’re done for.”
He spread my legs until I was resting right on his mouth and then he moved his tongue. Oh, yeah. I was done for. One crazy day and I’d basically become someone’s old lady. Just my luck.
*****
THE END
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Copyright 2016 by (Dagny Rand) - All rights reserved.
In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher. All rights reserved.
Respective authors own all copyrights not held by the publisher.
A Bad Boy’s fake
Fiancée
A hardcore football romance novel
By: Dagny Rand
A Bad Boy Fake Fiancée
Jack stretched as he reached for the towel after his shower. The steam swirled around the bathroom, and he swiped his hand across the foggy mirror and tied the towel around his waist. The image before him was the one that he saw every morning as he gave himself a once over. Tall and lean, check. Shoulder length dark hair, currently stick to the back of his neck from the shower, check. Muscles, honed by football practices, daily workouts, eating habits and being the equivalent of a walking Mack truck on the field, check. Bright almost sky blue eyes, double check.
“Jack?” a female voice said from the next room. Jack paused in the mirror. Oh holy hell, what was her name? He had not even the slightest idea and that wasn’t going to go over well at all.
“I’m in the bathroom, babe. I just got out of the shower,” he said. Maybe it would be okay if he just avoided calling her anything concrete. Otherwise, she was what’s-her-name. Most girls didn’t like that. He needed to start making them wear name tags or something. It wasn’t like he had to keep it up for long anyway, he had to be at practice soon. That was why he’d slipped out of bed and gotten into the shower already.
“Are you leaving?” she cooed as she came into the room and slipped her arms around his waist.
“No, hon. But you are. I have to be at practice in an hour and I need