Read Never Ever: Book One Perdition MC for Free Online Page A

flicked her gaze up, blushing because he’d caught her
staring at his mouth, doing her best not to squirm under the heat of his angry
stare. “That’s my brat in your belly, and before you push him from your body,
you will have my brand, my ring, and my name. You get me?”
    “Don’t you ever , call my son, your brat. My father
taught me to be creative with knives, and I will cut your swinging dick off if
that word is ever, associated with my baby.”
     
    He blinked, slow and lazy, his lips curling in a satisfied
smirk. She shivered when his thumbs slid up under the edge of her shirt and
swept gently up and down the sides of her belly. “Answer me,” He growled, and
she narrowed her eyes at him, “Before I have this baby, ring on my finger.”
    “Yes.”
    “Your word?”
    “Have it.”
    “Fine. I’m due in March. You have five months to convince me
to marry you. I’ll go change for my appointment.”
     
    Chapter Five
     
    He still wasn’t sure how he’d walked himself right into that
trap without realizing it. The feel of her baby bump rubbing against his abs
had fucked with his head. That and the scorching furnace of her pussy, notched
up against his cock, pulsing moist heat through two layers of denim to further
fuck with his head. He wanted to fuck her something fierce. But he was getting
his brand on her before he’d give her that again. She was too fucking crafty,
sexy, for him to keep his head on straight and not walk into another open trap
like that.
    Five fuckin months to convince her to marry him.
    Only bitch he’d ever known, that would need convincing, to
get her to marry him.
    Sexy bitch.
    Bitch that went ape shit when he made a remark about their
kid she didn’t like.
    Sexy, fucking, bitch.
     
    He watched her walk off in a snit, into her bedroom, and
followed her with his duffle, ignoring her indignant look when he tossed it on
her bed. Her room was nice, girly, but nice. Big ass bed, crystals and pink
blocks of salt and shit, one of those mirrored vanity things with brushes and
combs and perfume and more girly junk. The room was free of clutter, done in
shades of grey, blue, green and rich brown, girly, but not to girly. “You’re
not moving in,” She told him as she came out of the closet, and in answer he
flung himself down on her bed and stretched out comfortably, “You took away
four months of me watching my son growing inside you. Not taking any more.”
     
    The hard expression on her face faltered for a minute, and
underneath all her hard, all her tough, he saw an ache. A sadness so deep it
hurt to look at. It was just a flash, just a flicker, and then she was back to
being a tough bitch. But that flicker, that flicker and the shirt she was
attaching to his boy’s baby blanket, told him that somewhere in there, there
was a soft spot. A soft spot that was so tender it needed major protecting.
Someone had taught her how to protect it, to fiercely protect it, keep it safe
and off limits. He watched the tail of her pony whip in the air as she spun on
her heel and marched her sweet ass into the bathroom, muttering under her
breath while she slammed the door behind her. Made him grin like a fool for no
good reason. He wanted that soft spot, wanted his name all over it.
     
    She took her time, which left him able to look around her
room for more clues about who she was. There were pictures on her walls of
flowers, her flat surfaces clean and free of dust, crystals and trinkets here
and there. Books about horticulture and farming, DIY home project books about
something called a Pergola, for expanding rooms onto an already existing home,
a desk with business stuff and a sleek lap top, closed. No family photos, no
evidence of a man in her life from the state of her underwear drawer, all her sexy
panties were stuffed to the very back. Some still had tags on. And his ginger
bitch had some sexy ass panties. He didn’t find any toys in her bedside table
drawers, no diary, not even a token