Below the Line: Nomad Bikers (Devil's Due MC Book 2) by Chelsea Camaron

Author:Chelsea Camaron [Camaron, Chelsea]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-01-29T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

~Hadley~

I don’t know how much time passes when I hear the door open and an impeccably dressed woman comes in, wearing a pant suit in gray and blood red high heels. Her dark hair is secured in a tight ballerina style bun, and the makeup on her face blends naturally, making her a strikingly beautiful woman. However, the air seems to shift from her presence.

“Hello, Hadley.” Her voice is soft. If I wasn’t certain I was going to die a slow, painful death, I might actually find her soothing.

“Who are you?”

Marco steps in behind her, handing her a bag. She reaches in, not answering my question as she removes a crop.

Oh, hell. Memories hit me.

“Now, now, sweet Hadley, we have clientele with”—he pauses—“different tastes. You must learn to enjoy a bite of pain.” Lo’ren taps the crop inside my ankle.

“Please no,” I whine, feeling my body revolt at the idea of what he’s going to do before he even starts.

“Shh … Hadley, I don’t want to have to gag you. Close your eyes, close your mouth, and follow the instructions I give you,” he explains, tapping the inside of my leg again. “You need to spread wide so that the soft end can tickle your skin.”

Watching him, I think about the fact that my arms may still be chained, but my legs are free. Lo’ren hasn’t done more than force orgasm after orgasm on me with his tongue, his fingers, and his array of toys, but never has he fucked me himself. Today might be that day.

Fear crawls up my body from the tip of my big toe all the way through me like a chill of air brushing over me until it reaches the individual strands of my dark hair.

When Lo’ren moves, I take the opportunity to kick out, nailing him in the groin. When he folds over, covering himself, I kick again, hitting his face. After a moment, he stands and the crop comes up high in the air to land swiftly and firmly on my exposed thigh.

The sting is only the beginning of the pain he plans to make me endure now.

“Hadley, what do you know of my husband?” Her voice brings me back to my new hell.

I lay my head flat back to alleviate the strain on my neck. “I don’t know who you are, so I don’t know your husband.”

I have been a hooker for almost half my life, so there is no telling who her husband is.

“Lo’ren Cortez,” she says, and ice runs up my spine.

“I didn’t know he was married,” I reply truthfully. How could he be married and fuck the many whores he did? How could he have a wife and spend almost a year keeping me chained to a bed in what he refers to as “training me”? Where has she been all this time?

“Honey,” she says, her tone far from soothing. “You work for me. You all work for me. You always have. Lo’ren is just the face because, for some reason, women have this crazy respect for men.

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