Along for the Ride (Ride or Die Romances)

by Lauren Biel

She’s bent over the kitchen table, a man standing behind her and thrusting into her. Worse? The man thrusting behind her is my fucking brother.

LMFAOOO

“Paulina has been fucking around on you for months. I was here for one thing.” He lifts his shirt to expose his favorite blade on his hip. “To kill her for you.” “Did you trip and fall into her, dick first? What part of killing her involved doing this?”

CRYINGGGG

“I thought it would be fun to slit her throat while I was fucking her. I swear it was just meant to be payback, Gentry! If you don’t believe me, look at her phone!” he pants.

GAGGED

“Maybe I’ll take you off these streets, baby,” he says through a frustrated groan. “Make you my pretty little project. But first, show me what you can do with your mouth.” Maybe New York won’t be so bad after all.

Girl

With no one to miss her—aside from the men who’d been dicking her down—we got away clean.

LMAO

“I don’t pay you to think,” George says with a dry laugh. He should lay off the cigarettes. “You don’t pay me at all,” I say.

“Nah, but I know it’s coming. It cost George a lot of money to fix that job. I shouldn’t have played so much, but I just couldn’t help myself.” Crunch. The sound makes my eye twitch. How can he discuss his death so coolly while eating the loudest snack known to man?

Death doesn’t seem like such a terrible outcome for me. I’d probably come before my last breath.

IM-

I should turn away, but he’s a goddamn car crash and my eyes are glued to the scene. “Jesus, must you?” I ask. Karson leans back on the balls of his feet, his hand working faster until he comes in the vase with a satisfied groan. “Is this how you’ve been operating since I’ve been gone? It’s a wonder you haven’t been caught. They’ll get your DNA off that, dumbass.” He goes to put it down. “Ah, ah, you gotta bring your jizz jug with us.”

IM WEEPING

“This is the second most valuable thing I’ve ever come in.” A playful spark lights his eyes, and I know where he’s going with this. “Don’t,” I warn. “First thing was your wife.”

“Do you know what we do to thieves?” “Kill them?” I say. The driver’s deep voice echoes through the SUV, feeling louder with my eyes closed. His words are silky smooth. “No. We take them along for the ride.”

TITLE CARD

I picture him shirtless with an ax in his hand, hauling it over his shoulder and sending it into a block of wood with the ease of a hot knife through butter. Sweat slipping through the curves surrounding his pecs and . . . And what the fuck is wrong with me? He’s not a sexy lumberjack making thirst traps for social media. He’s the man holding me hostage, and I need to get the fuck away from him.

LMFAO

Fuck an ax. He could probably chop wood with that thing. It would certainly split me in half, I think, and my cheeks blaze hot.

IM WEAKKK

Instead of pocketing it or throwing it across the room, he slides it past his lips and swallows.

WHYD HE SWALLOW IT

“Tell me. You haven’t been shy about using your words so far, so tell me you want me to rip you in two.” “I want it,” she whispers. “Good girl.”

“If you have any fantasies about running off the first chance you get, get them out of your head. I’m real overprotective of what belongs to me.” I turn her face and look into her eyes. She needs to understand the weight of what I say next. “For the remainder of this night, keep my cock inside you. And for the remainder of this trip, you and your pussy are mine.”

WELP

“I’ll always protect you, but you’ll have to accept me for the killer I am. The man who can make you feel so fucking good after causing the ultimate pain to someone else. Can you do that, wanderer?”

The choice can’t be that difficult, though. I’d choose syphilis over Karson.

She is my responsibility. She’s mine.

“Please, sir,” she whispers as the pressure on her neck increases. The moment she says that, the cold killer thaws. I can’t do it.

I scoot closer to Leana and wrap my arm around her, and I’m surprised when she doesn’t pull away. “I’m sorry, wanderer,” I say. “Why are you apologizing?” she whispers against my chest. “You didn’t kill me.” That’s exactly why I’m apologizing.

“Get it over with,” she says before lying back with her tongue sticking out and eyes rolling back in her head. It’s the least convincing fake death I’ve ever fucking seen, and now I understand why she failed theater class.

Her sexy lower lip is loose and relaxed. Coupled with the vacant stare, the blood, and the fresh marks on her neck, she looks pretty fucking dead. She’s a fucking masterpiece. And I’m hard again. Jesus. Calm down, boy.

Karson lifts his chest. “You know, if the roles were reversed, this wouldn’t . . . No, you know what? This would never happen to me. This isn’t take-your-whore-to-work week. I never would have brought her along.” “Call her a whore again and I’ll castrate you,” Gentry says.

“You don’t like that I could kill you, but you love that I’m too fucking obsessed with you to do so.”

“You’re . . . fucking . . . evil.” She pants each word with every forward rock of her hips. I pull away, eliciting a frustrated growl from her. “And yet you ride my face like I’m a saint.”

“Open your mouth, wanderer. I want you to taste yourself. I want you to swallow what I’ve done to you.” She spreads her lips as if she expects my fingers to slip inside her mouth, but I tip her chin, ball up my spit and her come, and drip it into her waiting mouth. I expect her to spit it out, but she doesn’t. “Good girl. Now swallow.”

OH WOW

She hasn’t given me a name, but I’ll get it out of her eventually. And when I do, we’ll make her fantasy a reality.

WELL YES

“That’s not how this works,” Karson says. He turns to Gentry. “Why do chicks always do this shit? They say it doesn’t matter, but the moment you name a place, they aren’t in the mood for it. I’m not playing this game.”

LMFAO

“Fine,” I mutter. “Just pick a burger place.” Gentry turns to Karson with a smug grin. “There, problem solved. We’ll grab Wendy’s.” “I don’t like their fries,” I say, and I regret even asking for food at this point because Karson looks as if his head might explode. The exit is quickly approaching, and Karson makes no indication that he plans to turn off. Golden arches gleam in the distance. “McDonald’s!” I shout before it’s too late. He flicks on the turn signal and whips the SUV off the interstate. “Was that so fucking hard?”

God, I’m starting to like her, and I fucking hate that for me. My little thief. His wanderer. Whoever the fuck she is, she’s getting under my skin.

“Don’t kink shame me, Gentry. I’m not the one who gets off by having their hair shampooed. Now that’s fucking weird.”

LMFAOOOO

Fuck those two. If they want to sit back there and cackle about kinks, by all means, go nuts. At least I don’t guzzle my own jizz like it’s hors d’oeuvres.

CRYINGGGG

The last time I let him buy an outfit for me, I had to commit a double fucking homicide with the word “vagitarian” on the front of my shirt.

“But if you don’t do our next hit with a cereal killer shirt, what are we even doing?”

Karson turns over, his eyes narrow. “What the fuck kind of junior-high bullshit is this?”

LMFAOOO

When you have someone in your corner, fighting for your sanity, healing is possible. And I plan to fight for her.

“I didn’t hurt you! You were fucking fine!” he screams out, spit and blood flying from his lips. “Fine? I’m fine? I’m fucking two serial killers for fun!” I shout. Karson lets out a laugh, and Gentry punches him in the side. “Sorry, I just love her mouth,” Karson says through a heave. “Please, continue.”

Karson groans. “That is so fucking hot, thief.” “Good girl, wanderer,” Gentry growls in my ear. “My little killer.”

“Stay,” I command, though I know she won’t listen. That’s her thing—being a beautiful problem.

The fact that he doesn’t question me is one of the few reasons I like my brother. Chopping off a hand and asking for a bag usually begs for questions, but he just rolls with it and begins searching cabinets and drawers.

“Bring the murder mutt. What could go wrong?” Karson quips.

It’s like a fucked-up Norman Rockwell painting.

“Be my dead girl.”

George is dead, with a pastor’s hand so far up his ass not even the funeral home will find it. I hope he’s fisted for all eternity.

And then there’s me. Right in the middle, where I belong.