It all started so innocently. My neighbor, Mr. Cook, lured me to his motorcycle club with the promise of a present for my 18th birthday. The gift, if you could even call it that, was far from what I expected and the Saint Reapers quickly turned me into their dirty little biker whore. It was such a rush, being so desired and wanted by a horde of men each and every day. There was nothing I wanted more than to have each of them use me to satisfy their own cravings.

Everything was great until a rival gang caught word that I was hanging out at the clubhouse regularly. That’s when my life began to spiral out of control. Mr. Cook hardly even talked to me, and when he did, it was only to reassure me that everything would soon be back to normal. He may have been the leader of the Saint Reapers, but that didn’t make him a magician. I was in more danger than ever and had to spend every waking moment with him just to stay alive.

The sad part was, even going through all of this I couldn’t help the feelings that were developing for Mr. Cook. I could only hope that underneath his rough and damaged exterior he felt the same way about me and that we could stay together even after I no longer needed his protection.