BLURB Sin's a born
sinner.
His name was
earned.
His reputation is
feared.
Before he was Sin, he was Padraig, and Padraig?
Makes Sin look innocent, and that makes me want him, and all his
darkness, more than ever.
But then, I'm a spoiled brat—until I can't be that anymore. Until my kingdom crashes down around me, and I become a nobody.
A nothing.
But to Sin? I could never be nothing.
Our love was founded on
secrets, on hushed rendez-vous, and
forbidden nights, and Sin?
He’s ready to bring us out into the light.
Through blood shed, fallen tears, and lives lost, Sin will do whatever it takes to claim me, and me?
I'm ready to be his.
All the way. Into the
light, and out of the
dark, it's just a shame that fate doesn't always want the same thing for us as we do.
Find out if we can be together in SIN, book three of the Satan's Sinners' MC series.
This book contains scenes that may trigger sensitive readers.
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EXCERPT CHAPTER ONE
TIFFANY
It was the smirk that did it. I hated smirkers.
I really fucking hated them.
My best friend’s brother was a smirker, and he seemed to think he could pull it off, but Luke couldn’t. In fact, Luke Lancaster couldn’t pull off a holiday sweater, never mind a smirk, but that was just my opinion. Far as I could tell, the prick had more female attention than even this guy.
And his smirk? It suited him.
At the Satan’s Sinners’ clubhouse in West Orange, New Jersey, I’d admit to feeling like a fish out of water. Some of the girls from the country club had pretty much dared me to come, and because I was a moron, I’d let them work their wiles on me.
I wasn’t even mad at them, more at myself. Peer pressure—who’d have thought I was still vulnerable to it after school?
See, this was why I liked Lily. Hell, no. Why I loved her. She was like the sister I should have had. She got me and I got her. But she was on a tight leash—her dad was as big of a prick as her brother—and that was why I’d decided to spend my Friday night in this dump, because she was stuck hosting some stupid meal for her dick dad.
Well, okay, dump was a strong word. The place was quite nice actually. Surprisingly so. And the view? Sweet Lord in heaven, yeah, the view was more than worth it, even if I didn’t know what I was sitting in—something disgustingly sticky—tucked on a sofa beside a biker who looked like he was preparing to get sucked off by a woman wearing very few items of clothing.
That would be awkward.
Entertaining, maybe, but mostly awkward.
I mean, I’d watch. I’d be nuts not to, wouldn’t I? I had to watch. This entire thing felt as much like a social experiment as part of the psychotherapy major I’d tossed down the drain. There were so many women with daddy issues here, and so many men with god complexes that, six months ago, it would have been my idea of a wet dream.
Now?
I wasn’t sure whether to be amused or disgusted. I’d already seen some chick popping pool balls out of her ass.
Yup, you read that right.
I hadn’t even known you could get two balls up there, but she’d proven me wrong. Proven a couple of bikers wrong too—they’d taken bets on how many the poor bitch could shove up the brown eye.
They’d evidently never learned anything about anatomy.
That she could get a couple up there was a miracle—if you loosened your definition of what a miracle was—but eight? Did they think her rectum was Mary Poppins’ carpet bag?
Still, that had been a humorous interlude, if a little disgusting, and I’d made a mental note to A, never play pool here.
B, use Lysol on my entire body when I got home.
C, destroy this entire outfit because there was way too much DNA on it.
Entertaining though it was, the reason my friends had come here was to get laid by biker dick.
More daddy issues.
Apparently being treated like a piece of ass was on their to-do list. Well, it wasn’t on mine.
I had no such issues. Dad might not be a saint, but he was cool. Cool enough to support me as I tried to figure out what the fuck I was doing with my life after I’d ‘messed’ things up at school, at any rate. And I didn’t need to get back at him by being gangbanged by a bunch of bikers who wouldn’t understand the word ‘respect’ if Aretha Franklin screamed it at them.
Of course, all those thought processes went down before I saw him.
He had his hand down some woman’s pants, and his smirk set fire to my body in a way that made my eyelashes aroused.
My fingernails tingled too.
Everything about him screamed sex and sin. But even worse than that? He screamed a promise fulfilled.
He would give you sex and sin, but you’d love every fucking minute of it.
To be continued in Sin, the 3rd book in the Satan Sinners MC Series by Serena Akeroyd.
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