Series: Nameless Souls MC #3
Author: Evie Mitchell
Genre: Post-Apocalyptic MC Romance
Release Date: June 10, 2021
I do my best work in the shadows.
Trained to be a killer, it’s all I’ve ever known. All I’ve ever cared to know.
I embrace pain and destruction, turning everything I touch into ash.
I’m a ghost. No past. No present. No future.
This woman sparks a hunger in me; a dark, dangerous desire.
I need to fight it or risk destroying the one person who makes me feel hope.
The Devil knows I’d burn the world for one taste.
God better have mercy because I won’t.
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“Ready?” Ghost asked, his voice low.
I looked up, about to make another sarcastic comment about these fucking heels when my gaze stuttered to halt on his crotch.
Dear fucking God.
He wore only three items of clothing – a fucking frat boy cap, grey sweat pants, and a sleeveless zip hoodie that he’d left open.
His insane eight pack with just the right amount of chest hair might have been fucking impressive, but it was the outline of his cock against the grey material that killed me.
Oh God. Oh, my fucking God.
I sucked in a breath, struggling, and failing to lift my gaze from the glorious outline of his dick.
My name was no longer a question but a growl. As I watched, his already generous size lengthened, growing thicker, more rigid.
Thank the good Lord for sweat pants.
“Eyes,” Ghost barked and I snapped, looking up.
He watched me, his face—as always—carved from stone. But his eyes, oh his glorious eyes. They were hot and filled with filthy promises.
“I need to focus,” he told me, his tone guttural. “They changed it up. Means I gotta win this tonight. Now.”
I licked my lips, then bent, quickly tying the straps of the remaining heel then straightened to a stand. The heels gave me a few extra inches that brought me closer to his height.
I reached out, sliding my hand down his chest, fingers running across his pecs and down his stomach, following the goody trail to the waistband of his sweats.
Don’t shut down. I need something from you. Anything. Just in case.
Ghost stood like a rock under my hand—motionless, as if craved from marble. Only the heat of his skin let me know he was a living, breathing man.
Well, that and his impressive dick.
My hand dropped further, cupping his cock through his sweats, the heavy weight hard and hot in my hand.
He growled, the rumble involuntary and delightfully animalistic. I ignored the flood of moisture that slicked my pussy at the sound.
Needing to win this battle of wills that was being waged silently between us, I placed my free hand on his shoulder, boosting myself up until my lips could brush his ear, my words only for him.
“Survive, and I might let you fuck my mouth.”
I pulled back but his hands shot out halting my retreat. One hand fisted my hair, the other pressing my hand back onto his thick cock, his body grinding against my palm.
I shuddered, wet heat drenching my underwear and thighs.
Ghost held me steady as he leaned in, his lips less than a hairsbreadth from mine.
“And if I triumph? If I fuck those little boys up and win this fight? If I return your women to you tonight? Will you give me your cunt, Ava? Will you let me taste your cream?”
My legs clenched, my nipples responding to the harsh need in his voice.
“You sure you’d prefer that over a blow job?” I asked lightly, trying to sound casual even as I pressed closer, desperate to feel the rasp of my nipples against his chest. “You’ve already tasted me.”
His hand let go of mine, shifting to my hip, pulling me closer then coasting over my side then down, lifting the hem of my skirt. His big, calloused hand slipped under to find my underwear, one finger rubbing against the material.
“Soaked,” he growled, his breath rough against my cheek. “You want this.”
His finger pulled my panties to the side, slipping between my lips to rub through my wet. I sucked in a breath at the intrusion. Blunt, rough and oh so fucking welcome, he rubbed my clit, teasing and stroking, his gaze electric.
So much emotion.
I shifted, swaying those two tiny breaths towards him, closing the distance between us, desperate and needing release.
It’s been so long. Too fucking long.
It’d been more than twenty-four hours since he’d last touched me like this, and I needed it like a druggy looking for their next fix.
Make me come.
Abruptly, Ghost pulled back, dropping his hands from my body, banking the heat in his eyes. I watched as he returned to that dead place inside him.
I took a second, reorientating myself, the heat from his touch still branded onto my skin. As I watched, he lifted his fingers to his mouth, licking my taste from them.
“You dirty fucker,” I whispered, pressing my thighs together, hating and loving the way my body ached for him. “You better fucking win.”
Fuck, Ava. Don’t let him see how much you want this.
I straightened, fixed my skirt then stepped passed him, moving to lead us out of the room as I threw my parting words over my shoulder.
“You better be fucking worth it.”
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Evie Mitchell is a thirty-something woman who loves dirty books, bad boys, and men who know how to treat their woman right. She lives with her husband, their sausage dog, and an ever-growing collection of book-related mugs.
When she’s not writing, Evie loves curling up in the sun with a good book and a cup of tea. Evie specialises in spunky reads for curious minds.
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There is a giveaway for signed paperbacks of Runner, Wrath and Ghost (1 winner, open internationally)