Son of a Beard Read Online Lani Lynn Vale (Dixie Wardens Rejects MC #3)

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Biker, Drama, Erotic, MC, Romance Tags Authors: Series: The Dixie Wardens Rejects MC Series by Lani Lynn Vale
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Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 72122 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 361(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
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Just like the way I let my dick do the thinking two hours later as we finally made it into our hotel room.

I did, however, manage to cover my cock in a condom before I sank completely inside of her.

And it continued to do the thinking as I fucked her mercilessly. On her back. On her knees. On our sides.

Then she got on top, and I lost all ability to think.

We’d never actually managed to get her dress off of her before I was inside of her.

What we did manage to do, though, was get her panties off, and her breasts above the top of her dress.

And when she was riding me, her breasts were bouncing this way and that.

Her long, thick brown hair was waving about us every which way.

And God, did her pussy feel like heaven.

Something I told her over and over again as I professed my undying devotion to her beautiful cunt.

And hours later, when dawn finally started to kiss the sky, we fell into a breathless heap on the bed, and slipped into an exhausted sleep.

The next afternoon when we finally woke up, the reality of the situation hit us, and we somehow came to a decision to ignore everything and sweep it under the rug.

Which we thought would be easy since neither of us remembered much from the night before.

Looking at our naked, entangled bodies, we thought that was all it was.

Oh, how wrong we were.

Chapter 3

I already want to take a nap tomorrow.

-Verity’s secret thoughts

Verity

Three months later

“What the hell,” I muttered as I shouldered my truck door open and practically fell out.

Then I stopped, sent a quick text to Randi, my best friend, to let her know where I was in case someone decided to kidnap me, and headed for the door.

“This place has got to be in the worst part of town,” I muttered to myself as I walked to the door of the house and knocked.

No one answered.

I checked my phone, double checking the address, and frowned.

This place looked like a house.

In fact, if I had to guess where to get drugs in the small town of Mooresville, Alabama, it would be on Stark Street, where I was currently standing.

“Fuck me,” I grumbled, backed away, and turned to survey my surroundings.

There was a driveway on one side of the porch, and a small walkway on the other.

Going down the steps, I made my way to the walkway, and froze when I saw the bike directly next to the house.

It was pretty.

Though, it was missing a seat, and my heart started to pound.

It couldn’t be.

Carefully making my way past the huge motorcycle, I started walking, and that’s when I heard it.

Hammering.

In fact, I would say it sounded more like metal smashing against metal. Like someone was pounding something into submission.

Kind of like a bladesmith.

Smiling, I started to hurry in the direction of the noise, knowing I had to be in the right place.

My dad might have his dream birthday present after all.

My first mistake was not preparing myself.

The moment I saw the motorcycle, I should’ve known. Should’ve seen what was happening.

But I didn’t and I fucked up.

I allowed myself to think that I was invincible, and I wasn’t.

My heart, the thing that was still half broken but healing every day, started to pound the minute I pushed open the door to the shed-like thing at the back of the property, where the hammering was the loudest.

At first, it took time for my eyes to adjust, but once they did, boy oh boy were they rewarded.

There was a man standing with his back to me, one hand had a large hammer in it, and the other hand a long piece of glowing hot steel.

He was swinging the hammer at the metal, and each time he did, his muscles would flex.

When it would hit, the same muscles would bunch and release before he repeated the process all over again.

He was sweaty, too. Oh, so sweaty.

And he had a beard. From what little of it I could see, it was a magnificent one, too.

I bet he could do good things with that beard…

He turned, giving me a side view of his face, and I gasped.

I knew that beard!

I knew that face!

I’d ridden that beard!

It’d been buried between my thighs.

Oh, sweet Jesus.

I had to get out of there.

Turning, I was about to run back the way I came when the movement caught Truth’s attention, and he turned fully.

We both froze, staring at each other.

Then his mouth tipped up into a leering grin, and he said, “If it isn’t Ms. Very.”

I pursed my lips.

Very had been something he’d called me from the moment we woke up the next morning. After all of the riding and burying.

“H-hey,” I mumbled. “I was…”

“Leaving?” he guessed.

I straightened my spine and shook my head. “Uh, no.”


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