REIGN: A Motorcycle Club Romance Novel Read Free Page B

over
your tits, and I want you to lick it all off,” he said with a snarl, doing
mental gymnastics to try and put some meat on the lithe body in front of him –
too thin for his taste. She was gorgeous though, with those pouty little-girl
lips, and soon he felt himself automatically jerking off harder, his balls
churning, the girl in front of him thrusting her chest out for him and running
her hands up and down his thighs.

 
    “Fuck,” Reign groaned as a stream of cum shot out of his cock, landing
square on the brunette’s chest, making her close her eyes and squeal in
pleasure. He shot load after load onto her, watching her systematically wipe
the cum from her tits and suck it off her fingers with relish.

 
    “Thank you, daddy,” she whispered through a mouthful of his hot cum,
the last of his load landing just short of the mark. He watched her get the
last bit of semen, which hung almost comically from her nipple, and guzzle it
into her throat. She’s cute, he
thought, unable to fight the slightest bit of affection for the otherwise
anonymous girl.

 
    “Thank you, ” he said. “But
daddy’s gotta sleep now.”

 
    “Of course,” the girl said, knowing her place well enough not to ask
if she could sleep with him. Instead, she hopped to her feet and quickly
dressed herself, leaving her shorts unbuttoned. Reign noticed the slightest
string of cum dangling from her hair and decided to leave it be; she’d probably
just move on to Endo or whatever other club members were hanging around the
bar. He leaned forward to smack her ass, playfully, as she skipped from the
room.  

 
    He grabbed the bottle of whiskey that was sitting on the floor near
the couch and took a huge guzzle, feeling it burn down his throat. And then he
lay down on the couch, stretching out, closing his eyes. As he drifted off to
sleep, he felt cold and wished he had a blanket, or a warm body next to him.
Not the girl, but someone else. Someone he’d never met, but who, deep down
where he could barely admit it to himself, he wished he would meet soon.

~ 3 ~

 
    I was almost done. Three more rooms, and I’d have finished my duties
for the day. I was more than ready to clock out, change into real clothes, and
drive away as fast as I could. Less excited to arrive at home than I was to
just get the hell away from work, I knocked on the door of my next room before
letting myself in. My eyes immediately fell to a blue duffel bag sitting on a
chair in the middle of the room.

 
    I picked up the duffle bag, wondering how someone could have forgotten
about it when it was just sitting on the chair, declaring its presence at first
glance around the room. It was surprisingly heavy when I lifted it and set it
down near my cart, meaning to bring it straight down to the front desk once I
was through with the room.

 
    There was an odor in the room that I couldn’t quite place. It smelled
metallic, cold. But, blessedly, that seemed to be the only major problem with
the room. No vomit or spilled beer here.

 
    As I heaved the comforter and sheets off the bed, back aching from
performing the same motions over and over again, I saw something that made my
blood turn cold. I wanted to believe it was something other than what I saw,
but I couldn’t fool myself. That smell was blood, and what made that clear as
day was the small pool of brownish-red liquid under the bed. And in the middle
of that pool, just barely peeking out, were two fingers.

 
    Two fingers that were, presumably, attached to a whole body.

 
    I nearly pissed my pants and threw up at the same time. I backed away
from the bed. I’d seen a lot of things in my time at the hotel, but nothing
like this. Nothing even nearly as bad
as this.

 
    Maybe it’s ketchup and a glove, I thought, irrationally, knowing full damn well
that it wasn’t. But something inside me insisted that I make sure it was what I
thought it was before telling everyone about how the sky was falling.