His Lady_The Wounded Souls by Leah Sharelle

Author:Leah Sharelle [Sharelle, Leah]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-08-29T18:30:00+00:00

———

“I swear to God, Deck, I didn’t want to do it. They made me. You know how they are. They get all teary eyed and the next thing I know, I’m knee-deep in shit,” Squid begged.

Yep, he begged. Of course, anyone would when faced with being in a chokehold from the Wounded Souls’ SAA, which was what was happening.

Deck and I had arrived back at the compound in record time and found Squid sitting on a kitchen chair in the middle of the dance room. Well, he was sitting but not of his own free will. Charlotte had duct taped his hands to the arms of the chair. It had been fucking hilarious, too. That was until Deck saw his new bride grinding away, her perfect baby bump peeking out from beneath a barely-there tank top, skin-tight legging looking things clinging to her legs.

“Did you touch her?”

I couldn’t help it. I laughed. Deck’s possessiveness had reached legendary status with that question. As if any of the men of the Wounded Souls would dare to touch Teach.

“No, brother, I fucking promise. She taped my hands to the fucking chair,” Squid said, forcing the words past Deck’s arm around his throat. Deck had Squid pulled up with the chair attached to him by the tape, making it hard for the prospect to do anything other than crouch.

“Uh, brother, he is an alarming shade of red. You might want to let up a bit,” I suggested as I watched the prospect’s eyes start to roll to the back of his head. “I think he is gonna pass out.”

“Deck, honey, let Squid go. I asked him to help us. We taped his hands and his thingy down. He was just doing what we asked,” Charlotte said, coming up beside her husband and putting her hand on his arm, silently encouraging him not to kill Squid.

“What thingy?” Deck asked with caution as he dropped Squid and the chair back to the floor with a thud. He still held his arm around his throat, letting only a little pressure off.

Charlotte started to squirm, her bottom lip going between her teeth.

Oh, shit. This was going to be good.

“You know, his thingy,” she said again as her hands waved nervously to the region of the prospects waist.

I looked to see what the hell she was on about. On Squid’s black fatigue pants was a mess of grey duct tape, fashioned into a crude version of a sport’s cup meant to protect a man’s cock. A laugh erupted from me. Oh, my fucking good God. These women were seriously a breed amongst themselves.

Deck released his captive just enough so he could see what Charlotte was on about. His eyes bugged when he figured out what they had done and why. He turned and stared at his wife, disbelief on his face.

“You made him a dick cup out of duct tape?”

“Yes.”

“For what reason, exactly.” With his eyes closed and his free hand pinching his nose, I was sure Deck was praying for patience.

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