Free Anarchist Book 4: (An MC Serial Novel) Book 4 by Jordan Silver Page B

to send her some flowers.
    That’s when I clocked this little beamer doing ninety in a thirty-five. After I’d gotten over the shock of a speeder in our little town, I’d given chase.
    Imagine my surprise when I found this beauty behind the wheel. She gave me the fluttering eyelash routine, and I could see it was all a big joke to her.
    Her license said she was from the east coast, yeah, one of those. “Excuse me officer, but what seems to be the problem?” Damn, what a voice, she had to be making that shit up.
    I would’ve answered her if I hadn’t noticed that her eyes were on my dick and she wasn’t even trying to hide that shit. I was almost tempted to cover my shit from the look of hunger in her eyes.
    I read her the usual riot act for speeding and gave her a ticket, which she threw in the glove box with what looked like even more tickets.
    “So, when are you taking me out to dinner big boy?” She looked me dead in the eye to let me know she meant business.
    “Excuse me?” Are all east coast women this bold? I grew up in the Midwest, went to school in the Midwest, and don’t really know much else about the outside world except what I see on TV. I’m not as much of a dud as that sounds; it’s just the truth.
    I’m not green by any stretch of the imagination, but I’m not use to such brashness in my neck of the woods. The women around here save their true colors for behind closed doors.
    When I looked back expecting a blush or at the very least a look of shyness, all I saw was trouble.
    I thought of Cindy and how hard I’d tried to win her. I can’t say that I was at all surprised that this was happening now.
    Of course I would meet her one-day after taking Cindy out on our first date, it’s the story of my fucking life.
    “You heard me, or are you one of those guys who likes to do the chasing? The problem with that is that I don’t have time.
    I’m passing through on my way to a conference and won’t be back this way for a while. And since I don’t believe in letting opportunities pass me by, when I see something I want I go after it, so what do you say?”
    What I should’ve said was no thanks and gone on my merry way. But did I mention that Ginger Lee has a rack that only the hands of the creator could’ve fashioned? Not to mention the most amazing cornflower blue eyes?
    Instead of giving her the company line about being involved, I decided to play along. “You married?”
    “If I was would I be sitting here hitting on you, what kind of girl do you take me for?” She got out of the car, which I should’ve told her not to had I been thinking.
    I was trying to do the right thing. The thing with Cindy was still new, but we’d been working our way there for a long fucking time. Did I really want to mess that up for a one-night stand?
    I was fighting the good fight there until she got out of the car and I saw that ass of hers. Now don’t judge me too harshly, but you’ve got to understand the package that is Ginger Lee.
    How many ‘big girls’ do you know with the confidence of ten super models and the fucking balls to back that shit up? It’s not something you see everyday.
    I’ve heard the stories, seen the ads. Usually women who were anything bigger than a size eight were a little less...everything.
    Not Ginger Lee, she was in your face, what you see is what you get. And what you got was a size sixteen compact body on a five foot four frame, with a mountain of jet-black curls, and an attitude to rival any Diva’s.
    Long story short, I took her out that night, but I did tell her about Cindy. We ended up back at the hotel she was staying at, and for the next eight hours she put me through my paces.
    By the next morning I was hooked but she was leaving. Imagine my surprise when she made the off the cuff remark that the town seemed like a nice place to live.
    I was like a dog with a fucking bone; it was pathetic. She knew what she’d been doing the night before when she put that pussy on