Page 36 of Pink Poison (The Butchers MC #1)

Chapter twenty-six

Stevie

A quiet whirring rouses me from my broken sleep. It was harder than I hoped it would be to stay in a deep rest when all I could think about was who Stone was talking to last night.

Slowly, I blink my grogginess away, taking a minute to appreciate Kash’s relaxed, sleeping face. For a man who holds such a dangerous position, he looks like a damn angel. Without his cut, he looks like a typical boy next door kind of guy—harmless, even.

A cutie.

I huff a quiet laugh, knowing that I shouldn’t pull my guard with these guys. As angelic and cute as one may look, they still answer to an asshole and are willing to work with and for a shitty human.

If Atticus Lennon can even be considered human.

“You awake, pretty doll?” Stone asks, his voice gravelly with sleep.

I’ve always been a sucker for a man’s early morning voice.

Rolling away from Kash, I turn and face Stone. He sits, sprawled on the small sofa, taking up over half of the furniture. My breath catches as I take him in, shirtless with his jeans undone, hanging low on his hips giving me a perfect view of his v-line.

“I am now,” I groan.

“My eyes are up here, doll.” He laughs, pulling my attention back to his darkened gaze.

“Uh-huh,” I drawl.

He winks, his tongue ring pinched between his teeth.

“How did you sleep?” I lick my lips and offer him a teasing smirk that hopefully conveys how much I really don’t want to talk about it.

Honestly, talking is the last thing I want to do when he's looking at me like he wants to devour me for breakfast. I'd let him, too.

His lips curve, reading me like an open book. “Something on your mind, doll?”

My eyes drag down his body again, appreciating that the grogginess of sleep has lifted.

I feel my lips part, and I suck in a breath as I hone in on the numerous scars that decorate his skin.

Many are raised and thick, while few are small enough to go nearly undetected against his tanned flesh.

It's an odd thought to have, even for myself, but I think they're beautiful.

I itch to touch them, trace them, know them as intimately as I know myself.

What the hell is wrong with me?

“Sorry.” My cheeks heat as my stare collides with his, knowing that I was just caught practically drooling over his scars. “That was rude of me.”

“Nothin’ to be sorry for, doll.” He smirks playfully, deepening the sting over my face. “I like having your eyes on me—especially when your cheeks turn that shade of pink while you're lookin'.”

Jesus, help me.

“Don’t let it get to your head, Butcher,” I sass .

I don't do the flustered or shy thing. I haven't in years, and some stupidly sexy biker with a growly morning voice and a tongue that drove me wild won't change that.

“Is that your way of tellin’ me you think I'm sexy? ” he teases, like he just heard my thoughts.

Shaking my head, I roll back over to face Kash, who shifts closer to my body, bringing our faces a breath apart.

“You think Stone is sexy?”

“What?” I squeak out, unprepared for him to even be awake.

“It’s okay,” he gruffs. “Stone is kind of hot, in that brooding, tragic way.”

I trace my finger over his cheek. His lashes flutter at my touch until his sleepy blues open for me. “Kind of hot, huh?” I snort.

His hand finds my hip. “Yeah, kind of. I’m not into dudes, but if I was, I’d probably go for him,” he jokes.

“Good to know, cutie.” I laugh softly.

His fingers gently tap against me, almost like he’s resisting the urge to touch me further. An ugly feeling swirls in my chest at the idea of him holding back. That's not who he is, at least it's not the version of him I've experienced, and I don't like it.

Before I can comprehend what I’m doing, I hook my leg over his waist and roll my body on top of his, settling him to his back. “Woah,” he whooshes, holding me steady over him.

“Stevie,” Stone warns.

The dark thoughts seep through into existence, unfiltered as they slip off my tongue. “What's the matter? Don’t wanna touch me anymore?”

“Sweetheart,” Kash grunts. His eyes soften, too soft , too much like last night. “I’m tryin’ to be respectful.”

Respectful?

I laugh. It's not funny, nothing about these feelings are, but I laugh anyway.

The sound reeks of dismissal, dripping with condescension.

“Were you respectful when you listened to me in the bathroom with Stone?” I snap bitterly.

He remains silent, his eyes unwavering in their softness.

It pisses me off—his lack of reaction. I don't want their softness or their pity.

Narrowing my stare, I cock my head to the side.

“ No . How about when you followed me into the locker room and watched me undress? No again. What about when you had me go out on stage in only your cut .”

His gaze darkens, honing in on mine until I feel him in my head, taming the fucked up thoughts that try to escape. “Doll, why don’t you get off of him and we can talk,” Stone coaxes.

I know he means well—they both do. But the toxic mess in my head refuses to accept their softness as the kindness it's meant to be. Instead, the whispers in my head are telling me one thing and one thing only.

They don’t want you anymore.

“No,” Kash bites, his stare beyond lethal. “Blondie needs to hear us out.”

“Kash, man,” Stone groans.

Kash’s fingers dig into my hips punishingly before he pushes me backward over his waist. My eyes widen as my bare ass brushes against something firm and warm. “Does that feel like I don’t want to touch you, sweetheart?” he hisses between his teeth. “Answer me!”

“No.” I swallow.

“Now ask Stone if he still wants to touch you,” he commands, leaving no room for argument.

I look over my shoulder to see the man in question leaning forward on the sofa, his hands fisting over his knees. “Do you still want to touch me?”

His eyes darken, tempting me to lose myself in them. “More than I care to admit, pretty doll,” he rasps.

“Look at me,” Kash redirects and I follow his order. “ Attagirl . The question isn’t if we want to touch you. It’s if you want us to. ”

“I—” The words die on my tongue. Do I want them to touch me, or did I just want to hurt myself with the thought that I was no longer undesirable?

“ You have the power here, sweetheart,” Kash affirms, removing his hands from my hips.

I track his eyes, searching for something that tells me I was right—that he doesn't want me, but all I find is poorly masked restraint laced with desire. He’s holding back for me, not because of me. Swallowing my pride, I whisper, “I want you to touch me.”

“Where?” He smirks.

“Hands back where they were,” I demand.

“Yes ma’am,” he groans.

His hands find their place at my hips once again, dimpling the flesh as he presses his fingers into me harshly.

Inhaling sharply, I lift enough to hover over his exposed length.

With a shaky hand, I reach between my legs to push his cock flush to his abdomen before easing back down.

His steady exhale at my touch encourages my hips to roll forward to his swollen tip.

Hissing, he pauses my movement. “Did I hurt you?” I ask.

He pushes me back to the base before his shaft twitches against me. “Only in the best of ways, sweetheart. Do it again.”

My cheeks sting with his encouragement, but I follow through with the request. With each roll of my hips, the nerves hidden between my folds tingle with a building pressure. The fabric of my t-shirt rubs against my hardening peaks, stimulating a slickness between us.

“Just like that, Stevie. Use my cock to make yourself feel good,” he groans.

I grind against his heated length harder and faster, bringing us both to the brink from the friction alone.

The room tunnels, fading as sparks dance around my peripherals.

My breaths shorten into frantic puffs as panic slowly trickles through me, cruelly dragging me away from my search for pleasure.

“Pretty doll,” Stone snaps, sensing my distress. “Turn around and face me.”

Slowing, I glance down at Kash, seeking confirmation. He smirks, completely unphased that I've stopped moving over him. “It’s up to you, Stevie. Whatever you want to do.”

I nod sharply before arranging myself to face Stone, giving Kash an unobstructed view of my ass. His hands find their place over each globe, squeezing firmly before pushing me forward—gliding me from his tip to the base of his shaft.

I suck in a breath of surprise, happy to find I still want this.

Stone grunts, seeking my attention. “Keep your eyes on me, Stevie.

Watch me. Look at what you're doing to me.” He shucks his pants over his thighs before wrapping his hand around his thick girth.

My mouth waters at the sight, at his desire for me.

“Like what you see?” he teases, drawing his hand over his shaft.

A breathy moan slips past my lips as I slowly rock back and forth over Kash’s arousal-soaked length. “Yeah, she does,” he strains. “Her sweet pussy is leaking all over my cock.”

His words send me careening over the edge faster than I have time to say anything. Tremors shake my thighs while I ride out the wave, eyes locked on Stone as he pumps his fist over his cock in rhythm. “Naughty girl,” Stone teases. “I don’t remember either of us saying you could come yet.”

“I-I didn’t mean to,” I pant.

“Lift that ass for Kash, doll,” he directs.

My heart beats rapidly against my chest, but I do as he instructs. Kash’s engorged tip grazes my sex until he breaches my slit.

“Take what you want, sweetheart,” Kash says, although it registers a plea. Lowering back down, the sensation of him filling me triggers moans from us both. I grant us both mercy, immediately circling my hips in succession until the sound of my arousal rises above our heady breaths.

“That’s it, baby. Ride my cock for Stone.”