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Stealing His Thunder (Masters of Adrenaline 1)

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For now nothing mattered but the mastery of his body over hers, being in his control, swept up in the fury of his lust, unable to escape even if she wanted to. She came, then came again, trying to hold on but having no hope of controlling him, raking her short nails down his broad chest. Swears and grunts filled the room, and somehow she found herself beneath him, facedown, flat on the bed, with his cock pummeling into her G-spot.

Oh god, he owned her, whether he wanted to acknowledge it or not.

Her mind shut down and he took what he needed. A litany of dirty thoughts streamed into her ear from his mouth, until it was impossible to tell her own thoughts from his. Such horrible, thrilling things he still wanted to do to her body, even as he found his release.

When he had finally finished, her body sated from more pleasure than she thought was humanly possible, he pulled off the blindfold and kissed her long and deep, then curled his body around hers like she was something tiny, in need of his protection.

“Are you okay?” he rumbled, stroking her with a gentle hand.

“Better than okay.” And worse. So hopelessly, helplessly worse. But it wasn’t the time to worry about that.

The devastatingly tender feelings for him didn’t go away, even after someone strolled past their door, applauding.

Chapter 8

“Shit!” Fox pulled the car to a sudden halt in the parking lot of Jimmy’s Auto Repair. Their buddy’s shop was almost unrecognizable. Glass and debris littered the asphalt in front of the building.

Luke and Atlas turned to look at him as his car approached, then went back to surveying the damage. Jimmy was pacing circles in the parking lot as he talked on the phone. Thank god Jimmy was okay, other than looking pissed. What did the text message Fox had received earlier meant then?

The shop windows were smashed to pieces. The heavy garage doors were bashed in and splashed with pink and orange paint. Inside the shop, shelves and big toolboxes had been pulled down, their former contents scattered across the floor with the broken glass. Oil and other automotive fluids had been dumped out on top of scattered paperwork, and empty jugs lay where they’d been thrown.

Fuck. What a mess.

Jimmy used to complain that he was too far from the city for good business but today being away from the Strip was an asset. No questions. No onlookers. No police.

Why bother? They all knew who’d ordered this attack.

He punched the steering wheel. Fuck. This was his fault.

Luke and Atlas watched him, waiting for him to get over his shock and get out of the car. Jimmy stalked around the property, as if cursing and grumbling to himself was going to undo what had been done.

They’d put this to rights and then hire a guard for the place.

With a deep breath, he opened the door and got out of the car. “Damn it,” he murmured upon seeing the damage up close.

“Those fuckers,” Atlas said between clenched teeth. “Tell me we can retaliate.”

His brother and cousin both looked to him for answers. For revenge. He was their leader—always in control—but tonight he felt so fucking helpless. If they retaliated, it might just make things worse, but if they didn’t, they’d seem weak. They already had a reputation for being pussies because they refused to carry weapons.

The text had come while he’d been taking apart a motor in the garage.

Take your partners and leave. Or next time I’ll do worse to someone more important than your mechanic friend.

Shit. Where was Carlos?

When he and the guys had first moved to the area, Marcel had approached him, all smiles and businesslike charm. He’d asked them to join his team, and even offered their choice of position. But Fox wasn’t the type to take orders, and his brother and cousin didn’t exactly play well with others either. So they’d turned Marcel down, preferring to work on their own as they had since their uncle and his crew had retired.

Marcel didn’t want to share the area, saying it was too small for two rings to operate, but that was bullshit. Fox’s group worked with completely different buyers. They only moved a few cars a month. There was plenty of business for both of them.

He’d thought they’d reached an unofficial agreement with Marcel. They’d been sticking to the north side of the city without incident until recently. His objections had started with subtle threats and sabotage, but Fox had never thought it would lead to this.

“Where’s Carlos?” he asked, his stomach twisting. Hopefully, he had the day off. But if their buddy was dead, there was no way the others would be this calm.

Luke answered. “He’s at Sunrise Hospital.”

He could feel his blood pressure spike. Carlos was so young. Please let it not be serious.

“The doctors say he’ll be fine,” Luke continued. “He was here when it happened. Might be in a cast awhile though.”



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