Page 40 of Property of Necro (Kings Of Anarchy MC: Illinois #1)

Chapter

Twenty-Nine

Stretching fresh dough into a rectangle, I force it to retain its shape before sprinkling brown sugar and cinnamon over every square inch.

Then, to keep the mixture inside, I roll it into a log and cut thick, uniform slices before I tuck them into a buttered pan.

I’m making cinnamon rolls. I’ve been baking a lot—a lot, a lot—and it’s one of the few things that takes my mind off those who shall not be named.

It’s also part of my new routine.

I wake up and have breakfast in the apartment kitchen, on a stool, by myself, wishing a certain chef was here to keep me company.

After I’m done, I get on with my day—baking and meal prepping to feed the sisters.

In the afternoon, I cozy up on one of our three couches to read smut.

Once I’ve gotten sufficiently horned up, I take care of business in my bedroom with one of the three sex toys I’ve recently purchased—the rotating textured cock being my favorite.

I shower at some point, cook dinner, and at night, I watch a horror movie in the living room.

The scarier, the better. Even if Cell, who is usually down to watch anything, has recently been traumatized by Dead Alive .

Apparently, she draws the line at a gazillion gallons of blood and an intestine monster.

Which I thought was cute. The monster, not the blood.

The movie is far too over-the-top to be taken seriously.

It’s been eight weeks and two days since I left Kings Cursed, and I’m finding my groove. It was a bit bumpy at first, but now that I’ve gotten this routine down, I’m sailing along.

Till pops her head into the kitchen just as I slide the cinnamon rolls into the preheated oven and shut the glass door. “Do I smell cinnamon?”

“You do.”

“Can you save me one of whatever you’re making?” She eyes the oven.

“Fresh cinnamon rolls.”

Till licks her lips. “Yum. I fuckin’ love those.”

“Then I’ll fucking save you one.” I snicker and wipe my hands on the front of my apron. “Did you need something?”

“We’re having another Dark Delicacies party tonight.”

“Oh. Cool.” I haven’t been to one of those in ages.

“You’re coming, right?”

Placing my hands on the island, I lean forward, keeping my arms straight. “Is Dark gonna be there?” I ask, hoping he’s not. The last thing I want to do is cause a scene. Because I will. Get a drink or two in me, and all bets are off.

“Not that I’m aware of. But Sunshine and Angel are. ”

Sounds good to me. Sunshine and Angel are good people.

“If he’s not coming, then you can count me in.”

“That works. I just wanted to drop by and remind you. Sugar is working her ass off to have the best treats for tonight.”

“Does she need any help?” I ask, more than happy to break my routine to help a sister in need. Baking, as it turns out, is more therapeutic than I ever thought it would be.

“No. I think she’s got it covered.” Till knocks on the island’s top. “It starts at eight. See you then.” She flashes me a smile, and then she’s gone, brown hair swaying down her back.

Yep. I guess she’ll see me at eight. Now I gotta figure out what to wear.

I glance down at what I threw on this morning—a long black men’s t-shirt in XXL, black shorts, new black glitter Crocs, and a black apron. Black, black, and more black. Up until recently, I’ve always been a purple gal. Fun colors. Bright and happy.

At least my Croc charms are cute. I found a set of smutty book ones online and had to have them.

Cell slips into the kitchen and pours herself a glass of milk from the fridge. She sniffs the air. “Those cinnamon rolls won’t eat themselves. Bring me two when they’re done, will ya?” she requests on her way out the door, headed to her alcove.

“Sure thing. I live to serve,” I call to her retreating form.

Throwing her head back, Cell barks a hearty laugh. “Make it three,” she sings .

I flip her off, even though she’s not looking.

Three my ass. She has to save some for the rest of the sisters.

Shaking my head, smiling, I prepare the gooey frosting to slather on the cinnamon rolls whenever they’re done.

Then it’s smut time.

Today’s book—something with minotaur jizz.

I wonder… does it look anything like this frosting?

Lifting the whisk from the bowl, I watch the sugary goodness drizzle back into itself and lick my lips. I bet it’s not as sweet.

I swipe a bit off the edge of the bowl and suck it into my mouth.

Mmmm.

Monster cum is definitely not this sweet but imagine if it was.

The gooeyness, though?

Perfection.

Ugh.

I toss the whisk back in the bowl and grumble to myself.

I’ve officially reached an all-time low. Comparing minotaur jizz to frosting.

I need to get laid. Stat.

By a real cock.

Not a rubber one.

Now, please excuse me while I throw myself off a cliff.