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    Our Secret Child: War Riders MC, #3
    Our Secret Child: War Riders MC, #3
    Our Secret Child: War Riders MC, #3
    Ebook85 pages1 hour

    Our Secret Child: War Riders MC, #3

    By Paula Cox

    4.5/5

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    About this ebook

    Our Secret Child is book 3 and the finale of the War Riders MC trilogy!

    SHE KEPT OUR DAUGHTER HIDDEN FROM ME. TIME TO PAY THE PRICE.

    I did the right thing once.
    Never again.
    No one takes what's mine.
    Not even the mother of my child.

    I saved Kayla from that hellhole.
    Took in her, kept her safe, made her mine.
    I put my neck on the line for that girl.

    And what do I get in return?

    Lies.
    Deceit.
    Betrayal.

    I was good to her then, but no longer.
    She owes me everything.
    And I'm coming to take it.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublishereBook Publishing World
    Release dateJan 7, 2019
    ISBN9781386221487
    Our Secret Child: War Riders MC, #3

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      Book preview

      Our Secret Child - Paula Cox

      Get an exclusive FREE download when you subscribe to my newsletter!

      http://dl.bookfunnel.com/96l98crlif

      OUR SECRET CHILD: A Motorcycle Club Romance (War Riders MC Book 3)

      By Paula Cox

      SHE KEPT OUR DAUGHTER HIDDEN FROM ME. TIME TO PAY THE PRICE.

      I DID THE RIGHT THING once.

      Never again.

      No one takes what’s mine.

      Not even the mother of my child.

      I saved Kayla from that hellhole.

      Took in her, kept her safe, made her mine.

      I put my neck on the line for that girl.

      And what do I get in return?

      Lies.

      Deceit.

      Betrayal.

      I was good to her then, but no longer.

      She owes me everything.

      And I’m coming to take it.

      Chapter 1

      Kayla

      L et me drive, he says .

      I toss him the car keys. He climbs in, and I slide in next to him. He drives us down the street, stopping at the first motel he sees. In what seems like a few seconds, we have gone from the bar to a motel room. The room is cheap, with a thin mattress and a dim lamp and curtains which allow the glow of the streetlamps through, but it smells and looks clean. And we’re not here to admire the room, anyway.

      Dante turns to me, looking rugged and handsome and wild and animal-like with his beard and his dark eyes. A predator and I am his prey. That thought makes me damn hot. I am his prey, and I have been waiting a year for my predator to find me.

      He locks the door, finds the radiator and turns it on against the winter heat, and then stands close to me; he needn’t have touched the radiator, he is hot enough.

      He reaches out and places his middle finger against my pussy, through my jeans, but even through my jeans the finger is full of bursting energy, the energy of waiting, the energy of anticipation. I close my legs around the finger, all whilst staring into each other’s eyes. Something has changed since we were last intimate. This is my baby’s father, even if he doesn’t know it, and now he has shared the most vulnerable part of himself with me. We are closer than we ever could’ve been before.

      He rubs my jeans, and my jeans rub my panties, and the fabric of my panties rubs with burning friction against my clit. I close my legs tighter around his hand, staring into his bearded, hard face. Everything is tingling, begging to be touched. Right down to my feet, right up to my scalp; it is all-consuming lust like I have never felt.

      I throw myself at him, unable to wait, wrapping my arms around his shoulders. Dante lifts me up and carries me to the bed, sets me down, and starts undressing me hungrily, quickly. I help him along, pulling my hoodie over my head as he pulls down my pants. I am about to pull my T-shirt over my head when I remember the pregnancy, and the stretch marks. I used all the right creams, took all the right precautions, but of course a baby is a baby and stretch marks are unavoidable.

      He pulls down my panties and stares at my pussy, black pupils dilated, mouth twisted in pleasure. He looks at my T-shirt, raises an eyebrow.

      I’m cold, I say. I’m going to keep it on.

      For a second, I think he might argue, but then he just starts stripping, throwing his leather and his shirt and his pants and finally his underwear to the floor. He places his big silver gun on the TV stand. He stands before me, naked, huge cock hard, almost as if it’s bursting with the same pent-up lust which is surging through me.

      Do you want it, Kayla? he asks, a wicked teasing note in his voice.

      I don’t answer with words. Instead, I lean up and take his cock in my hand. It’s even bigger than I remember, and it feels right in my palm, feels like it belongs. I grab it firmly, and then bring my mouth to the tip. I’ve never been one for enjoying giving blowjobs, but this is different. This is Dante, and listening to him moan as I bob my head up and down, work my tongue around the shaft of his cock, is heaven. He moves his hand through my hair, scratching my scalp, as I suck him.

      I reach down with my free hand to touch my clit, probe it gently, and then rub it.

      But we’re both too horny to mess around with foreplay for too long. There’s a time for foreplay, and there are times like these, when the two of us are too mad with lust.

      He grabs me by the shoulders, tosses me into the bed, and leans over me. I open my legs, and then, without further messing around, he thrusts his hips and slides into me. These first moments—the seconds which stretch like minutes in my body, my mind—are the sweetest relief of pleasure I have ever felt. I have fantasized about this for a year, waking sometimes in deep night with the phantom sensation his cock between my thighs, deep inside of me, soaking wet and hungry for the real thing. Now

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