Dickhead (Wrong Side of the Tracks #3) Read Online K.A. Merikan

Categories Genre: Biker, Dark, M-M Romance, MC, Romance Tags Authors: Series: Wrong Side of the Tracks Series by K.A. Merikan
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Total pages in book: 157
Estimated words: 145088 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 725(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 484(@300wpm)
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Dex sighed and rolled his forehead against one of the bars. “How, how, how! How did I end up here? I didn’t ask to be trapped! Things just happen sometimes, okay? Mom kicked me out, Frank took me in. Not much of a story. Fuck, take those cuffs off me, hm? I can’t take off the jacket, and it’s warm in here.”

Was this Dex’s attempt at changing the subject or some weird new way to flirt?

Hammer smirked. “Fine, give me your hands,” he said and pulled out the key he always had in his wallet.

Dex was all too eager to follow the request. Just like when he’d stupidly uncuffed Hammer back at the junkyard. He had so much to learn if he was to stay alive in Frank’s line of business, because that mistake could have ended in both Dex’s wrists broken if Hammer hadn’t been playing the long game.

“Those hammers are so cool,” Dex said, pointing to the tattoos on both of Hammer’s forearms.

Hammer looked down and imagined the boy’s hands, larger than a woman’s and rougher, touching him there. Air was trapped in his lungs, but as the awe in Dex’s eyes grew, Hammer opened the cuffs through the bars and took them away. “I have more,” he said, knowing exactly what Dex’s reaction would be.

He anticipated it.

Wanted it.

Brown eyes glistened like polished amber, and plump lips parted when Dex licked his lips. “Can I see?” he asked, taking off his flashy jacket and revealing the ink on his own arms—a jumble of small tattoos like a bunch of black and white stickers from different sets. Hearts, knives, words, and Jason from Friday the 13th thrown in for good measure.

Yet despite looking like a snack himself, all of his attention was on Hammer. His ass might have been black and blue after yesterday’s punishment, but he still craved attention from his captor.

No woman was this crazy.

And despite himself, Hammer loved it.

“I see you really like horror movies.”

“Is that why you chose the sledgehammer? Because it makes a giant mess?” Dex asked despite the question being inappropriate.

But the way Dex did things without thinking was one of his most attractive traits. Hammer smirked. “No. Got my nickname the day the club took me on. I was traveling the country without an idea what to do with myself when I found myself in the wrong, or right, time and place. Two guys from the Demon Brethren had an altercation with this crazy motherfucker, and they were unarmed. It was right next to a building site, so I grabbed a sledgehammer and dealt with the guy. It made an impression,” Hammer said, pleased with the good memories, from back when the club still believed in him. “But I admit, that the goriness is one of the reasons why I still use something so impractical.”

“Do you have any more tats? I’m not being a creepy pervert, I just really like ink,” Dex said. One of his hands made its way through the bars and hovered in front of Hammer’s chest. The tension was there though, tangible as Dex’s sneaky fingers begging to be touched. But what did Hammer want to do with it? Continue teasing Dex and see where it goes or skip the chase and open his fly?

Those brown eyes would have lit up like lanterns, and he wanted to see it happen.

Dropping the broom to the floor, Hammer flexed his arms, and then pulled at the hem of his top, revealing the landscape of black and white images crowding his upper body. He made a half-turn to show Dex the Scream tatt taking up his whole back, and there were more-slasher-inspired images on his arms and stomach. But the showpiece was on his chest—a realistic picture of skin peeled back with hooks to reveal bone and organs, with the exposed heart in the center.

Dex didn’t need to know that it gave Hammer a kick to show off his body as well as the art. The boy’s cheeks flushed, as if he’d just entered a warm house after hours in the snow, and it would have taken a crowbar to peel his eyes away from Hammer’s abs and pecs.

And the strangest thing was, Hammer didn’t mind being lusted over by a guy. Dex’s awe felt nothing like the predatory stares Hammer had learned to recognize and avoid back in juvie. In Dex’s eyes, Hammer was a prize, not prey. Which was so different from his relationships with women where it was his job to work for sex and attention and where he rarely received any compliments. But Dex would suck his cock and thank for the privilege.

Refreshing.

If fucked up.

Dex cleared his throat, but he wouldn’t look up into Hammer’s eyes, far too busy scanning him from neck to belt. “That’s such good ink. Work of art, really.”


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