Hellions Ride Box Set 2 by Chelsea Camaron

Author:Chelsea Camaron [camaron, chelsea]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Chelsea Camaron

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Mistakes happen when people get distracted, and I am officially distracted as I make my way to my trailer. My heart hurts that Boomer would think he could pay me for my time. I thought Boomer and I had something semi-real.

Who am I kidding? He knows nothing about the real me. If Boomer knew my past, he would have never touched me in the first place. To think he could pay me cuts deeply, though.

I’m not a hooker. A whore, obviously, but it happened for a reason. I needed a place where I felt safe. The Hellions gave me that until he found me. It’s been a good run, but now it’s time to move on.

Without thinking, I step inside, my mind on Boomer. It needed to be on survival, because I make it two steps inside before I am grabbed from behind, his breath hot on my neck.

“Hello, dear,” he snarls as he tightens his forearm around my throat.

I pull at him, but he is bigger, and I have never stood a chance against him.

“I think it’s time we have a little chat. First, though, we should get reacquainted. It’s been a while, lover.”

My veins run cold as his free hand gropes my breast. No, no, no.

He turns me around and pulls at my shirt while I fight to keep my arms down. Then he reaches in his pocket and out comes a box cutter. Effortlessly, he cuts the material from me.

I move to break away, but he pushes me to the living room floor. The old carpet is rough against the skin of my stomach.

His elbow comes down on the back of my head as he pins my face into the carpet. The box cutter blade flashes before he presses it to my cheek.

“Now, now, be still, Pamela. We wouldn’t want to stain more carpet with your blood, would we?”

I fight the urge to vomit.

He straddles me, grinding his erection into my denim-covered ass. “Before we get to the fun stuff, I need to know where my boys are.”

I say nothing. Kill me, asshole, but I will not speak.

He grabs my hair and lifts my head.

Wham! He slams my face into the floor. Pulling me back, he does it again and again. My nose cracks, and blood runs down onto my lips then pools on the old, worn carpet.

“Where are my boys, Pamela?”

Again, I say nothing, and he releases my head and moves the box cutter from my cheek down to my neck.

Flick.

The blade nicks my skin. It burns, and the air hitting the opening only makes it sting further.

He leans down. “I’m gonna check my marks. Better be still, or I’ll give you more.” He licks the wound on my neck before pushing off me. Then he slides my jeans and panties down.

My face throbs, blood is running down onto the carpet, my neck burns, and my ass is now exposed to him.

The slap comes before I can brace, surely leaving a handprint behind on my bare bottom.

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