My fist stills around my cock as my eyes snap back to Jenna, who lets out a soft shriek of excitement.
Meu Deus.
If that’s her reaction to a couple giving each other a peck, she is more innocent than I thought.
The little piece of information I just learned makes me even harder, and my fist begins to move fast.
With my eyes locked on the woman I want to fuck, I blow my load over my abdomen, letting out a satisfied groan.
I glance down at my cum, and when I think of filling Jenna until it drips down her inner thighs, my cock jerks.
Deus, the filthy things I want to do to you, meu anjinho, would send you running for the hills.
But alas, I won’t get to fuck her anytime soon and will have to be content with jerking off.
Climbing out of bed, I go to the bathroom and set my phone down on the counter so I can still see the screen while I strip out of my sweatpants.
I switch on the faucets, and as I wait for the water to warm up, I wipe off the mess on my abdomen.
Looking down at the tattoo covering all of my chest and abs, I wonder how Jenna will react to seeing the devil, horns and all, inked into my skin.
The beast’s mouth is open in a roar, and in his throat is a burning man.
I was twenty-nine when I finally got to kill Martim. He was a cab driver who took advantage of children living on the street.
Remembering what I did for five euros so I wouldn’t starve has my head jerking to the side and my hands closing in fists.
What happened in that cab, during one of the most brutal winters Lisbon ever saw, is my deepest, darkest secret, which I’ll take to my grave.
We’re just about to meet in Dominik’s room when the rumbling of motorcycles has me stopping dead in my tracks.
I move fast, pulling my gun out while shouting at the guards, “Get ready for an attack.”
Leo’s door swings open, and as he comes out, he asks, “Attack?”
I point toward the road. “Sounds like the MC is heading our way.”
Cassia, Dominik, and Santiago join us.
“Go back inside and don’t come out until I say it’s safe,” Santiago tells Cassia. When she scowls at him, he shakes his head. “You’re pregnant. Go.”
She audibly huffs while she returns to her room and slams the door shut.
Leo chuckles, glancing at Santiago. “She’s going to let you have it later.”
“Fine by me,” Santiago murmurs, his eyes locked on the bikers as they come down the road in groups of two.
One breaks away, indicating to us that he’s the leader, and when he brings his bike to a stop and climbs off, I take a few steps forward.
“I heard the motel was fully booked,” the man says as he glances at the guards before locking eyes with me.
He’s easily in his sixties, and the patch on his cut shows he’s the president of the club.
“The name is Ricky. I don’t appreciate you coming into my town and shooting my men.”
The other motorcycles stop in a row across the parking area, and I calculate it will take me a couple of minutes at most to put a bullet in every man.
When I continue to stare at Ricky, he lets out a chuckle and looks at Dominik, Santiago, and Leo. “Do any of you speak English?”
