Athena
I’m blind without my glasses or contact lenses. I thought he was just a kid. He looked like a kid in the dark outside.
Now I’m facing a man about twenty years old, his face wearing the sings of a fight.
“I just need a fucking phone,” he says, “and a few hours of rest.”
“Okay,” I squeak.
I’m so stupid.
You don’t allow any stranger to enter your house, kids or not.
“I won’t hurt you,” he says. “Relax, sweetheart.”
His voice has an interesting raspy tinge as though he’s a rock singer. He looks like a rock star—long blond hair, tattoos on his forearms. My eyes flick over the front of his t-shirt and I see an inscription that says ‘Deadly Crows’. He has a leather cut thrown over his t-shirt. His jeans are covered in blood and his boots are covered in dirt.
I can’t respond.
My hands start to shake, and I feel dizzy.
“You’re not gonna faint?” he asks and grips my arm. “I’m a good guy, okay?” He leans towards me. “Breathe.”
“Your blood is dripping onto my chest,” I shriek.
“I’m clean. Don’t worry.” He stretches his neck muscles and grins like a contented predator. “And we’re not gonna use any condoms. I’m gonna cum in your ass.” He flashes me another grin that makes my legs wobble and my tummy fill with heat. “You’re really pretty. What’s your name, sweetheart?”
“For you, son, it’s just ma’am.”
“I can make you feel good, ma’am.”
“You’re drunk.”
“Three shots of vodka and two beers. I can manage.”
I chuckle. Yes, chuckle. He’s so sweet.
And so dangerous.
I’m a stupid lonely woman whose foggy, deprived of sleep brain can notice only the sweet part of him.
“What’s your name?” I ask and after the last word leaves my mouth, I want to punch myself in the face.
“Sasha Jackson Holme, ma’am. But they call me Jax.”
“Jax?”
“Yes, Jax.”
He winks at me and leaps at me. I manage only a sigh as his lips slam on mine.
“You’re really pretty,” Jax says and howls like a wolf.
Rebel (Devil's Tears MC Book 3) Page 12