⚡️𝐁𝐔𝐋𝐋𝐘 𝐆𝐎𝐃 𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓⚡️
I'm so excited to tell you a little bit about my contribution to this amazing anthology. My story, RUTHLESS GOD, is loosely based on the legends of Ares, the god of war, and Aphrodite, the goddess of $exual love and beauty. It's a MF standalone story set in my Callous Boys of Crystal Cove world. It takes place in between the first and second book in the Callous Boys RH series.
ℙ𝕣𝕖-𝕆𝕣𝕕𝕖𝕣 𝕐𝕠𝕦𝕣 ℂ𝕠𝕡𝕪 𝕗𝕠𝕣 𝕠𝕟𝕝𝕪 𝟡𝟡¢ 𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖: https://books2read.com/bullygod
“You think they’re f*cking?”
My eyes narrow as my brother’s question sinks in, trying to get a read on their body language. “Who the f*ck cares?”
They’d better not be.
Not if Evans wants to keep breathing. Just because I choose to run the show instead of fighting, doesn’t mean I don’t have the lethal skills required to kick Vaughn’s a$$ if need be.
“Sure, K.” Hunter scoffs. “Whatever you say. Although, if they are... it’s not like you could blame him, right? That girl is walking $ex on a stick and always has been. Every dude in this place has their eyes on her right now.”
I glance around and confirm what my brother said is true. Cold-blooded m@ssacres have never appealed to me before, but the idea is awfully tempting at the moment. If I find out our reigning champ has touched Armani, every one of these f*ckers will know real fast what I’m capable of.
I rake a hand through my hair, tugging on some of the longer strands. “Why is she even in Crystal Cove?”
How dare she come here and stir $hit up?
If there was any inkling of doubt as to whether or not Armani knew I ran these fights, that would be obliterated the moment her espresso eyes lift to mine. A smile that could only be described as cunning stretches across her face. She briefly whispers something to Vaughn before putting one pointed-toe shoe in front of the other and striding directly toward me.
“Dayum,” Hunter mumbles. “It was nice knowing you, dude.”
It’s loud as f*ck in here, but my brother’s ominous statement echoes throughout my head. I tell myself to ignore the sultry sway of Armani’s leather-clad hips and the way her toned abdomen flexes with each step she takes beneath the tight shirt she’s wearing, but it’s impossible. Each one of her defined arms is now covered in ink, which is a new addition since the last time I saw her. It’s too dark in here to make out any detail on the colorful sleeves, but I’ve memorized every line of the delicate symbol decorating her lower ribs, clearly on display since her shirt barely covers her t!ts. My eyes home in on it, memories I’ve tried bleaching from my brain assaulting me in high-def.
My face buried in Armani’s ample chest as she rode me like no one before or after has ever been able to do.
Swollen lips parting on a sigh as she was claimed by the ecstasy only I could deliver.
An indefinable connection I would’ve sworn on my left nut was written in the stars.
The blackening of my heart as I learned who she really was.
*Copyright Lovestruck Publishing LLC - Unedited, subject to change