Page 47 of Property of Necro (Kings Of Anarchy MC: Illinois #1)

He’s right. It does. Coffin builds coffins and puts dead women in them, and Rot repurposes corpses. All their names are a little too on the nose and morbid as fuck. I shouldn’t like them, but I do.

Flicking my attention to Creature, leaning against the wall, I ask, “Where’d you get your name?”

He stares at me with his one working eye and the side of his mouth that functions tips up in the corner. “Really?” He snorts and points to the wrecked side of his face.

I shrug half-assed. “How was I supposed to know your name is because of that?”

Creature gives me a blank, unimpressed look. “You can say it, ma’am.”

“Say what?”

“That I’m an ugly, scarred-up creature. I look more like a science experiment than a human.”

Frowning at his horrible use of words, I give Creature a slow, head-to-toe once-over.

That’s not at all what I think. “Is that how you see yourself?” I ask, concerned about his warped sense of reality.

Sure, he’s scarred. But he’s far from ugly or even creature-like.

He’s kind of hot. If I wasn’t already claimed by two men and their president, who likes me but doesn’t want anything to do with me, I’d give his dick a ride or two to see how well it works.

And before you judge me for saying that, check yourself.

Hot is hot, and sex is a normal biological function.

I know who I belong to, but you can’t stop a girl from ogling.

All the wind suddenly knocked out of his sails, Creature shrugs sadly, not answering the question. Because I made him uncomfortable, he turns and leaves. When the door shuts behind him, I look up at Coffin, then over to Rot. “What did I say?”

“He’s sensitive about how he looks,” Rot explains.

“I don’t know why. He’s hot.”

Rot smirks and nods as if he agrees with my sentiment.

See. He knows hot when he sees hot.

Coffin growls, and like the possessive, violent caveman he is, grabs my throat and yanks me in front of him.

Leaning down, he gets right in my face. His warm breath washes over my skin, and while he glowers at me, I can’t help but smile.

He might think he’s intimidating, and sure, I may have a few scars from his dickish nature, but I’m not scared of him. Not anymore.

Smirking, I blow him a kiss.

The hand wrapped around my throat tightens. “You think this is funny, Sweet Cheeks?”

“I think you’re sexy when you’re jealous,” I quip.

He scoffs. “I don’t do jealous.”

“Really? Creature. Is. Hot. Like. So. Hot,” I purr, and to further prove my point, I bat my eyelashes as I punctuate each word in the most sensual voice I can muster.

On a snarl, Coffin spins me around and slams my back against the wall.

The wind is knocked out of my lungs. Before I can scold him for being too rough, he hoists me off the ground, rips the front of his jeans down, and slams inside me, fucking me like a monster with my legs wrapped around his thick waist.

“Hell yeah,” Rot encourages as Coffin pounds my spine into next week and makes my pussy sing the sweet, sweet oversensitive tune of coming after she’s already been used. It’s too much. Too quick. Too hard.

I hang on for dear life, but he doesn’t relent.

Not when I sink my teeth into his bare shoulder and come.

Not when Rot pulls out his dick and jacks off as he watches us go at it.

I take it.

Every brutal thrust. Every mean word. I love it. I need it. I never want it to end.

“This. Cunt. Is. Mine,” Coffin growls, punctuating his words with each drive.

He nips my cheek, and I whine.

“You only come for us. I’ll kill anyone who touches you. You’re ours. Do you fuckin’ understand? Ours. Your breath belongs to us. Your ass. Your pussy. Your lips. They belong to us. You don’t sleep unless we let you. You don’t eat. You don’t come. We. Own. You.”

“Yes,” I cry out.

“Say the words, Sweet Cheeks. Fuckin’ say ‘em.”

“You own me.”

“Who owns you?”

“You.”

“And?” Coffin snarls.

“Rot.”

“And?”

“Necro.”

“You’re such a good girl,” Rot praises as he slips beside us and pries my hand from around Coffin’s neck to wrap it around his steel. “Stroke me. I’m close.”

“Do it, Sweet Cheeks. Make him come for you. ”

“Only me.” I lick my lips, staring down at Rot’s thickness as it fills my hand, wishing it were in my mouth, hitting the back of my throat. Slick precum dampens my palm. I use it to stroke him. To make him feel good. His head drops forward, and his eyes squeeze shut as he ruts into the tunnel.

“That’s right,” Coffin encourages, watching me jack his brother.

Rot grips my wrist and fucks himself in the tight channel of my fist. “Only you, Good girl. Only you,” he grits and stills. Abs tightening, Rot explodes, painting the side of Coffin’s leg, and my hand in his sticky release as he moans through his climax.

“Fuck.” Coffin drops his forehead onto my shoulder, and his hips stutter. He grunts, and his cock thickens a moment before he, too, tips over the edge of no return.

“You two have a system.” I snicker as Coffin’s cock slips free and he places me on solid ground. Sagging against the wall, he tucks himself away as Rot cleans up with the wet wipes from his desk drawer.

I lean against the door to catch my breath before my knees buckle. Cum drips down the inside of my thighs.

“A system?” Rot asks, still catching his breath.

“Yeah. You come. Then Coffin does.”

“That’s not a system,” my blond argues.

“It kinda is.” Rot cuts in as he tucks his dick away. “You gettin’ pleasure turns me on and makes it so I can’t last as long.”

“And you like it when he comes.” A wicked grin steals my lips, and I waggle a finger at a breathless Coffin.

He rolls his eyes. “I like sex sounds.”

“Oh. So, it’s his moans,” I tease.

“No. It’s everyone’s moans. It turns me on.”

“Group sex is your thing, then.”

“No.” He huffs. “Sex with you is my thing. Necro and Rot joinin’ in are bonuses.”

“You didn’t like sex with me before. I remember when you hated me and complained about my voice when you thought I couldn’t hear.” That memory will forever be burned into my brain.

Coffin huffs. “I think we’ve covered I’m a fuckin’ moron.”

“We have. You’re a newly reformed moron,” Rot teases.

“Did you really not like my voice?” I ask, suddenly feeling insecure. I’m not sure if it’s the quick drop of adrenaline, the Necro situation, or whatever, but…

I wrap my arms around my middle.

“Sweet Cheeks, come on.” Coffin’s tone lowers to a seductive prince. “You know that’s not even close to true. I don’t like women. I hate ‘em. But I like you. I want you. Your mind. All of it. Not just your pussy. That includes your voice, which I missed the hell out of.”

All those giddy girlish feelings erupt at his kind words, but I tamp them down to sift through later, when I’m ready.

Doing what I do best, I deflect. “You’re bein’ nice again. Did you eat another gummy?” It’s okay if he did.

“No. I slept like the dead after bein’ drugged and woke up to the most beautiful fuckin’ face in my kitchen. I’m inclined to be nice when you took two of my loads in a day.”

“And you liked it. ”

Coffin’s head shakes. “No. I loved it.”

“It didn’t make you angry or sick this time.”

“No. It didn’t. It felt good to be with you.”

“Without a gummy.”

“Yeah. Without a gummy. I’ve released a lot of anger and frustration over the last few months. My body was ready for you to come home.”

For me to come home.

Gah! This man.

He can be sweet when he wants to be.

“You didn’t even have to stab me this time.”

He throws his head back and barks a hearty laugh. “Oh, Sweet Cheeks, I’ll cut you again in the future. That’s a given. You’ll bleed and you’ll wear my scars, and you’ll love it.”

He’s right. I will love it.

Calling out the elephant in the room, I point to the red tattoo on his pec. “Like you wear my teeth marks in your chest?”

“Yep.” Coffin puffs up like a peacock and pats the spot with pride. “The one and only tattoo I got. Only tattoo I’ll ever get. Unless it’s your name on my dick.”

Ew.

My face twists in disgust. “You’re not tattooing my name on your dick.” That’s beyond insane.

“Ya never know. I might.” He winks, and it’s odd. Coffin doesn’t do that.

“You’re a masochist,” I accuse lightheartedly.

This flirty man takes a page out of my book and bats his lashes. “Oh yeah. For you, Sweet Cheeks. All day. Every day. For everyone else? Not a fuckin’ chance. ”

“You two are too goddamn adorable,” Rot swoons, sitting on the edge of his desk, watching us with the sappiest smile on his face.

Coffin blushes ten shades of red and rubs the top of his head. “Fuck off.”

“I’ll tattoo your name on my dick, too, Red.” Rot swings his legs like an excited school kid.

They need to stop with this. It’s too much and gross. Nobody should be tattooing names on their junk.

“No, you won’t.” I shake my finger at him.

Frowning at me, Rot puffs his chest in defiance. “If Coffin does. I will.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose and shake my head. There is no winning with these guys.

Fed up with this back-and-forth, Coffin growls, “Shut up,” under his breath.

“What?” Rot shrugs all innocent and cute, with soft, puppy-dog eyes. A piece of dark hair flops over his forehead, feeding the hot, Hollywood heartthrob illusion. “We’re family.”

Heaving a sigh, I gesture to the screens filled with gore. “I suppose we are. So, what’s this family going to do about our squeaky, suicidal wheel?”

“Tie him down and let you fuck him,” Rot offers. “Your pussy cured Coffin. It can cure anything.”

First, we are tattooing their dicks and now this.

“We’re not raping Necro,” I snap.

“It’s not rape. It’s only rape if he really doesn’t want it. He does. He wants it. He just doesn’t want to admit he does.”

“Okaay,” I drawl, irritation prickling the back of my neck. “How about this? I’m not raping Necro. Taking someone against their will is not my thing.” It never has been. Never will be.

“But he’ll have a boner. If he’s hard, he wants to fuck,” Rot replies far too seriously, legs swinging, hands clasped in his lap.