Page 58 of Sinners MC: A MC Anthology

FREAKING.

B.

Not 3C. Not her own address. She had entered in the apartment number of her sexy biker neighbor.

It must have been her subconscious.

J. Campbell was on her mind.

A lot.

The man was a god of tats and leather.

He was her dream man, but he was a biker, and she was a nerd with giant glasses, tiny boobs, and not one single tattoo. She was way outside his league.

The worst part, he now knew she ordered a vibrator.

Casey could just imagine him, legs astride a big black hog, laughing with his friends, with his girlfriends?multiple, she was sure he was a three-way kind of guy?about his loser neighbor and her buzzing boyfriend.

When her head hit the desktop, it was loud, and she felt Bradley, Warren, and Russ staring at her. She didn’t need to look up to feel their gazes. She sobbed. Her life was over.

Chapter Three

Jason

Jason heard her keys jingling. The curse words whispered under her breath when she dropped them.

Every damned day.

And then the door closed.

He heard her turn on her favorite alternative rock station and imagined her moving that sexy little body of hers around the apartment as she stripped out of her clothes.

She must work in one of those stuffy skyscrapers downtown. It didn’t suit her.

Not the girl he heard behind the wall.

Jason looked down at the package on the table and laughed.

His neighbor was a wild girl.

His fingers itched to strip her down himself and ink her with his own hands. To mark her with his art.

He didn’t want to stop there, either, but it would be a hell of a start.

He picked up the plastic dick, bright purple, and looked it over.

How was this sexy? How did this turn a girl on? It was half the size of his own cock, thinner.

“What’s this? A place for batteries.” He walked over to his kitchen drawer, found a pair of AAs, and loaded them inside. He flicked the switch and watched the toy vibrate, rotate a little.

He shut it off.

Poor girl.

This should be a last resort. It was hardly a replacement for the real thing.

It was a cry for help, really.

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