Read Doughnut Darlin' (Plus Size Romance 4) for Free Online Page B

looking Shore in the eye.  “I think you mean sweet-ass girlfriend, don’t you?”
    Alan’s face was practically purple with rage.  “Her ass will be dead if you don’t do as I say.”
    Ronan dropped to his knees.  In regards to Raven, he had pictured himself in this position many times.  On his knees begging her forgiveness for lying.  On his knees between her thighs eating her pretty little pussy.  On his knees asking her to marry him. But he never once imagined himself on his knees in front of a shithead like Alan Shore, and it wasn’t sitting well.
    Ronan’s heart clenched at the pleading sound of Raven’s voice. 
    “Please don’t hurt Ronan.  I’ll do whatever you say; just let him go. Please.”
    Alan scoffed.  “You’ll do whatever the fuck I say anyway.”  The hand at her waist slid down and cupped her mound.  “I’ve been waiting a long time to pop this cherry, and no double-crossing bastard is going to stop me,” he said, waving the gun at Ronan.
    With the barrel of the gun away from Raven’s temple, Ronan took the opening to lunge forward and knock Alan off his feet.
    Unfortunately, Alan had anticipated the move.  Ronan felt the butt of the gun crack against his skull.  Everything went black. 
     
    RONAN DIDN’T KNOW HOW long he’d been out.  He gingerly rubbed the knot on his head.  His vision was blurry, and he felt dizzy.  The room was quiet except for the sound of grunting, heavy breathing and muted crying.  He slowly turned his head in the direction the noises were coming from.  Vomit bit the back of his throat at the sight of Alan straddling Raven. 
    The bastard had her pinned down on the sofa, her hands bound together above her head and a handkerchief crammed in her mouth. He hadn’t even had the decency to prop the front door closed.  He was probably a sick exhibitionist on top of everything else, hoping someone would pass by and witness his vicious violation.
    Ronan tried to sit up, but his legs and feet had been tightly tied together.  He bellowed his anger and frustration.  “Get off her you cock-sucking motherfucker!”
    Alan snickered.  “Good, you’re awake.  I was hoping you’d come around in time for the show.  Your girlfriend has some powerful thighs.  She’s got them clenched tighter than a chastity belt.  I could force her to open these pretty legs with my gun,” he said, gesturing to the .357 Berretta lying on the coffee table.  “But where’s the fun in that?”
    “Leave her alone, Shore, I mean it,” he growled, hating like hell the gun was out of his reach.  The ropes around his legs were tied in sailor knots and needed to be cut with a knife, but Ronan didn’t have one.  What kind of a damn biker worth his salt didn’t carry a knife? He was feeling madder than hell and hopeless as hell.  He’d never be able to drag himself to the coffee table and get the gun before Shore grabbed it.
    Alan’s laugh was evil.  “And if I don’t, biker boy?”
    “If you don’t, I’ll kill you.”
    A soft, elderly voice made both Ronan and Alan jerk to attention.  “Nope. This kill is mine.”
    Sally Dimsdale was standing in the doorway with a nine-millimeter Glock aimed right at Alan’s head.
    Ronan chuckled.  “Why, I never!”
    She winked at him.  “No, son, I’m sure you haven’t.”
    Irvin was right behind Sally, grinning like a mule eating briars.  “The missus retired from the special forces,” he said, holding out a box of doughnuts.  “Anyone want a cream-filled?”
     
    RAVEN AND RONAN WERE naked, lying on their backs on a blanket in the middle of a lush, green meadow— their meadow, looking up at the stars.  Ronan took her dainty hand in his big one.  “I can’t believe Sally saved our bacon, showin’ up just because she couldn’t ‘raise you on the horn’ and had a gut feelin’ you might be in trouble.”
    “Yep.  She’s a tough one with great instincts. We have to find some wonderful way to repay