Page 4 of Property of Necro (Kings Of Anarchy MC: Illinois #1)

Chapter

Four

Mmmm.

Rubbing my cheek against warm skin like a kitten in heat, I swirl my tongue around the head of his cock.

It tastes amazing—clean but also earthy, like a man, but a delicious one.

Reaching between my legs, where my clit throbs from the fresh piercing, I carefully touch my core and pull my hand away to inspect it.

It’s wet, but there’s no cum. They didn’t clean me up either.

I must have passed out before they finished, or whoever was fucking me must have stopped.

“Don’t worry, you can’t get pregnant,” Rot rumbles, staring down at me as he closes the book he’s pretending to read when we know he’s too aroused to pay any attention to the words on the page.

He sets the book on his nightstand, and I arch my brows for him to continue as I lap precum from his slit.

Blowing out a breath, Rot brushes hair from my forehead, then sighs when I suckle him again. Even though he’s now rock hard, he doesn’t press for more and seems content to let me do whatever I please.

“Everyone here got the snip snip.” He uses his fingers as if they were scissors to indicate what he means. “Besides Mama, our VP. He’s the massive, bald dude who spends most of his time in the kitchen. You’ll meet him today. He ain’t got any balls. So, there was no need for snippin’,” he explains.

Again, I hike my brows to my hairline, hoping he will continue talking.

The more he shares, the better. Not that I’m actually worried about getting pregnant.

You have to have a uterus for that, and mine was carved out years ago, at age eleven, two months after I started my first cycle.

Hence, the jagged scar on my lower belly. It’s faded a lot over time.

He caresses the side of my mouth as I draw him deeper until he hits the back of my throat for a moment.

His eyes widen, and a small, wicked smile curls at the corner of his lips when he realizes—Ya!

No gag reflex. That’s one of the many reasons I’m perfect for a job like this.

Although I didn’t expect he’d be the man I’d be doing any of this with so soon.

Most big dogs like to play with their toys before passing them off to others.

There’s a creak as a door opens, a snick as it’s closed, and the scuff of boot heels as they cross the hardwood. When I try to see who’s here out of the corner of my eye, Rot taps my chin and gestures to his face, wanting me to keep looking at him as I suck his cock.

There’s a rustle, but nobody speaks.

The hairs on my arm stand on end as I sense someone staring at me .

Rot’s hands fly in a blur of shapes.

You can have her when I’m done, he signs, then glances down at me, caresses my cheek with two fingers, and continues communicating with whoever’s in the room. One of these days, you’re gonna have to let someone suck your cock.

Nobody cares, brother.

Get over it.

Fine. Then be a little bitch. At least pull yourself out and watch.

There’s a rustling of clothes and the sound of a zipper.

I focus on Rot’s hands, trying to make out whatever he’s saying.

I’m guessing Dark didn’t tell them I grew up with a deaf mother who never used her voice.

But she didn’t need to speak to lock me in the closet for days at a time.

It didn’t matter how long or hard I screamed or how much I begged to be let out of the dark.

She didn’t care if I went days without food or had to relieve myself in the corner.

All that mattered to her was the drugs—heroin, coke, alcohol, you name it.

If she could get her hands on it, she did it.

The door opens and closes again. Someone roughly clears their throat, and Rot chuckles as he finishes signing to our other visitor.

“Really?” the new man growls. “Without me?”

Hot-boy smirking, Rot shrugs and gently presses down on the back of my head.

That’s my cue to suck deeper. I do as instructed and work his shaft like a professional.

Hollowing out my cheeks, I give Rot the blow job of his life.

Fingers tangle in my hair as he urges me to keep going, to move faster.

But I take my time. I control the pace. When a moan slips free and his thighs tense, I swirl my tongue around his head, then nibble it.

His eyes flash wide before they slam shut as if he’s skating on the edge of nirvana.

Another man curses.

My pussy dampens with arousal. Reaching between my legs, I rub my sore nub, not caring that she is freshly pierced. The throb turns me on.

Without a word, the blanket covering my legs is shucked off the bed and onto the floor, exposing my lower half. The mattress dips half a second before I’m flipped onto my knees, ass perched in the air, then he’s there, slamming home—the familiar cock from the altar.

Garbling a broken moan around Rot’s dick, my tits sway below me as I try to focus on making Rot feel good, to build our bond and make him trust me.

But it’s hard to concentrate as the headboard crashes against the wall, and I have to brace myself for each thrust. The other man doesn’t touch me with anything more than his cock.

No fingers embed in my ass cheeks, and I miss it.

I want it. The rough marks. The bruises from a man who can’t control his desires.

That’s what makes sex fun. It's raw. It’s primal. It’s everything.

Closing my eyes, I suck and fuck.

Slamming my ass back, I impale myself on the cock and moan like a whore around Rot’s shaft as it wrecks my throat.

The delicious tension builds as it always does. When I tip my hips enough, balls slap my sore clit, and I scream around the mouthful. Saliva drips down Rot and soaks his balls .

“Gonna come,” he grunts and shoves my head down until my lips touch the trimmed patch of hair at his groin. His entire body shudders, and I feel his cock pulse against my tongue as he dumps his load down my throat, straight into my belly as I hold my breath.

“Damn.” Rot pulls me from his softening cock, and I rest my cheek on his thigh, breathing heavily, as his president drives to the hilt, stills, and warmth floods my insides. I sigh, loving it far more than I should.

“Fuckin’ finally. Get the hell outta my way,” the other man snarls, and the bed dips behind me as the first cock slips free. Cum drips down my pussy lips as one body moves to be replaced with another. This man grabs my ass cheeks, lines himself up, and my core welcomes him home.

“Christ,” he growls, and I feel it, the throb of his shaft as he, too, comes inside, then pulls out, using me as nothing more than a dumpster for his seed.

I should be appalled, or something equally messed up, but I don’t.

I love this.

The scent of sex hanging in the air.

The tingle in my pussy.

The tenderness of my throat from being choked out.

The bed dips as the second man leaves, and I’m left wet, messy, and desperate to come.