Crucifixed (Royal Bastards MC: NYC Book 2) by B.B. Blaque (best books to read for self development .TXT) 📕

“Yeah. Ya think? It might be a little bit about her.” I crushed out my smoke, did a shot, and stood to walk to the back. “I didn’t go full on psycho . . . okay, maybe a little bit. I don’t wanna get into it. Sleep. I’m out.”

Casket wasn’t wrong. I went total stalker and was outta control in every other area of my life. She was bad news for me, but I couldn’t seem to stop lettin’ her pop back into my life any more than she could stop herself. It was a vicious fuckin’ cycle that could only end two ways. Either she’d be my ol’ lady or I had to stop it cold, which seemed completely impossible. Which is how the stalkin’ shit happened. Sometimes ya just gotta take the bitch and put her where she needs to be and that takes figurin’ shit out.

I didn’t wanna be with any of the chicks, but I was still sorta horny and alone in the champagne room. I rubbed my cock through my jeans to the thoughts of the sweet redhead I should never have taken and couldn’t stop givin’ in to. Who won’t stop comin’ to me.

The long black robes had been replaced by strippers in sexy vinyl costumes or school girl outfits that were beyond sinful. The fantasies were always the same—Fiona takin’ me as hard and merciless as I could give and droppin’ to her knees to take every drop of my sacrilegious communion wine. The penance was always from the moment we started until we were done. We both struggled with it in some way, but it never stopped us. My fuckin’ luck, she always goes back to the fuckin’ church.

Yeah, she has to make a choice.

The only other way would be if someone ends up dead.

3

Cry Little Sister

I rolled around on the couches in the champagne room and was barely sleepin’. We were closed, so I sat at the bar for a while tryin’ to keep myself from doin’ a ride by. I won’t see her. It’s probably best. My mood wouldn’t make it good.

I’d finally gone up to my office and was listenin’ to the music crankin’ from downstairs when the buzzer sounded. I woulda missed it if there hadn’t been a pause on the playlist. I shoved back from the desk and grumbled on the way to the monitors to see what it was. It coulda been one of the guys who forgot his keys or needed to crash. It coulda been some drunk who left his wife’s umbrella under the benches in the champagne room. It coulda been—but it wasn’t.

Oh, for Chrissakes! Why now?

I stomped down the stairs and went through the side door to the enclosed alley. Five o’clock in the morning—I need this shit now, why? What’s the matter with a normal time of day like midnight?

I pulled the cord on my keys and picked through them until I found the one to unlock the gate. I took a deep breath when I cracked it open.

“Crucifix . . . please don’t turn me away. You know I had to see you . . . I need to confess and you’re the only one who can take it.”

Gingersnap.

I stepped back and let her walk in. “Lemme guess . . . you’ve been a really bad girl and you need to repent and be punished for your sins, yadda-yadda-ya . . . sound about right?”

Bitch! Do you have any idea what this does to me?

Before my frustration could twist my balls, she grabbed my hand and shoved it under the gown of her habit. Oh, Lord help me.

When I cupped her bare pussy, I started to swallow my anger and rock my wrist down, slidin’ a couple fingers back toward her ass. The base of my palm pressed into her clit hard, and with every movement she shuddered and sighed. My dick was wakin’ up more with each wave of her body.

“You’re fuckin’ soaked . . . what a dirty, filthy sinner you are.”

I pushed her against the gate and my other hand dipped beneath the gown and started touchin’ her hot flesh. I’ve missed you, bitch. When I got to a nipple, I pinched hard and she sucked in a breath. That’s it, baby. Wince for me.

My cock was thumpin’ hard, imaginin’ what musta possessed her to show up so late, bare as a baby’s ass under the habit.

One of these days I’m gonna tell you to fuck off.

Maybe tonight.

Sure you are.

“Did you ride the subway all the way from Brooklyn to see me like this . . . where anyone could’ve seen you and tried to find out exactly what was hidden under your habit?” My whiskey breath whispered across her skin and into an ear as my hand kept rockin’. I squeezed the nipple again and she stood on her tiptoes. “Oh, sister . . . you chased my cock all the way here like a fuckin’ bloodhound . . . I coulda sent you back with this wet pussy . . . so, what is it you have to confess for?”

I couldn’t have planned it better—“Cry Little Sister” from Lost Boys came on inside the bar. The song always made me think of her and I played it regularly when I fucked one of our girls. It wasn’t loud out in the alley, but it was loud enough to fuel me. I started to unfasten my jeans and snapped for her to kneel.

“Kiss the cross . . . do it like the repentant slut you are.”

She put her full pink lips to the base of my tattoo and licked the area just above my cock.

Thou shall not sin.

“What’ve you