Page 52 of Property of Necro (Kings Of Anarchy MC: Illinois #1)

Chapter

Thirty-Seven

Giggling like a schoolgirl, I twirl in a soft, knee-length purple dress with a matching pair of glitter Crocs. Gah! I can’t stop smiling.

Coffin whistles his approval from the edge of Rot’s bed.

Sitting on top of his dresser, Rot pulls out his flaccid cock and starts to jack it lazily. “Bend over. Show me what you’re wearing underneath.” He grins.

I wave the flirt off. “Stop it.”

“No. I wanna see how much your ass shows when you bend over.”

Face heating, I touch my toes. The comfy fabric slides up the back of my thighs and stops just below my cheeks.

Rot throws his arms to the sky. “Fuckin’ useless. Send it back.”

I laugh at his unnecessary theatrics and return to my full height. Smoothing my hand down the sides of my outfit, I reply, “I’m not doing that. It’s a nice dress.”

“When you bend over, I expect to see pussy lips,” he grumbles and resumes jacking off .

Perching a hand on my hip, I roll my eyes. “No, you don’t.”

“Fine. I don’t. But it’d be nice. You could be bakin’ in the kitchen with Mama like you were this morning, and I could slip up behind you and stick it in.”

Amused by the silly man, I roll my eyes again, with more umph this time. He could do that now with my t-shirts, but he won’t. He respects Mama too much to put him through that.

“Do you ever think about anything other than sex?” I tease, pulling off my purple dress in favor of a black one with intricate lace and a plunging neckline. It’s far shorter than the last, hitting me mid-thigh. It almost looks like lingerie, but not quite.

“Sex? Yes. You? Never.”

Always with the flattery.

“You’re ridiculous,” I tease.

“Ridiculously obsessed with my woman. Hell fuckin’ yeah, I am.

” Rot does a twirly thing with his finger for me to do a full three-sixty in my dress.

For the full effect, I reach into the deep V and pull my tits up.

My nipples pucker, and you can see the outline of my piercings through the tight fabric, but it holds them in place.

Rot damn near drools as Coffin acts far cooler about his appreciation of my new outfit.

Those eyes soak me in, and his subtle smirk tells me all I need to know—it’s a keeper.

I don’t know why they bought me such nice clothes or what I’ll use them for, but I’ve never owned anything this…

expensive. I don’t even know if that’s the right word. Quality? Yeah. We’ll go with that.

It’s been two weeks since I woke up in a coffin, and I still haven’t seen Necro since they slid him into the back of the SUV. They won’t allow it. But I’m waiting for the day they do. Patiently. He needs time to recover, and they won’t admit it, but I know I’m the reason he tried to kill himself.

And I have to live with that.

I can’t lie and say it doesn’t sting because it does.

But Necro’s had a rough life. If I didn’t set him off, another woman would have.

Or so I keep telling myself, so I don’t think about it too much when I’m lying alone in my casket at night, wondering what he’s doing in his room beside mine.

Reading? Wishing he were dead? Wanting to talk to someone? Regretting the day he ever met me?

The curiosity is killing me.

Figuratively, of course.

I want to know.

I want to talk to him, to see if he’s okay, to see if he needs anything. But I can’t. I’ve asked, and the answer is always, “No. Not yet. Soon.”

With Rot being his typical self, a mixture of sweet, perverted, and scatterbrained, Coffin has softened around the edges since my return.

He smiles more and feels lighter. I don’t know how else to describe it.

He’s been present, and while I know he’s happy I’m here, and we don’t want to kill each other all the time, he hasn’t fed the beast since I’ve returned, and that has me worried.

I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Because it will.

It always does.

We can’t live in this utopian bubble forever.

We’re in a weird honeymoon stage. I think that’s what it’s called. I’ve seen couples in it before, I just haven’t experienced it myself. It feels a whole lot like a calm before the storm. I don’t trust it, just like I don’t trust most things.

In the mornings, we have breakfast together.

In the afternoons, I spend time between Rot’s office and Coffin’s barn, or cooking with Mama.

I stay busy. There’s always sex and good company.

I now have a seat at the dinner table between my guys.

But that chair at the head remains empty, and the longer Necro’s gone, the more heartsick I become.

His quiet presence soothed me. Sitting in his office, reading.

His leg against my side at dinner. Just knowing he was there, watching.

I feel like I’m missing a limb I never knew I had.

The void lingers like a physical entity as I continue to try on the clothes Rot ordered—mostly dresses, a pair of leather biker-chick boots, leggings, dark denim jeans, and Crocs, both fuzzy-lined and regular ones. About fifteen pairs in all. No shirts, no bras, and no panties either.

“I don’t know where I’ll wear all this.” I drop another dress in the pile of keeps and pick up another.

“When we take you on dates or visit Doc’s,” Rot explains as if I should already know that. But how? Dates have never come up before.

Feeding my arms through a pink frilly number, I spin to face him. “Take me on dates?”

“Yeah. We’ve been talkin’.” He gestures between Coffin and him. “We wanna do that.”

I don’t understand.

“Take. Me. On. Dates? Me.” I point to myself.

“Like… you want to date me?” Since when?

I’ve never been on a real date. They’ve never been on a real date either.

At least, I don’t think so. Well, maybe Coffin has.

But is it considered real if you plan to kill your date afterward? I wouldn’t think so.

“No, Red,” Rot chuckles softly like he thinks I’m acting cute, when really, I’m dumbstruck. “We plan to marry you. But husbands still date their wife. If they don’t, then what’s the point?”

I still.

Did he just say what I think he said?

“Rot,” I bark his name. He can’t just dump this on me.

“What?” The cheeky butthead hot boy smirks.

“Do you ever think before you speak?”

“Sometimes. Yeah. Why?”

“Because you said you plan to…” Flicking my wrist, I trail off, unable to say the words, but leave it to Rot to fill it in for me.

“Marry you? Duh. I thought you already knew that. We didn’t kidnap you and bring you home to…

what? Play Monopoly? Though. We should do that, too.

I’ll order it.” Picking up his phone off the dresser beside him, with his cock still very much out, Rot bites his bottom lip and concentrates on online shopping.

I turn to Coffin. “Did you know this?” If so, why didn’t he warn me? Send Morris code or write a fog message on the bathroom mirror, or something. Sheesh.

“Yes. You’re freakin’ out, huh?” He presses his lips together to stave off a smile.

Asshole.

“Yes,” I squeak, pushing my hands to my middle to quell the weirdness going haywire. I might throw up. “I’ve never dated anyone. ”

He nods, listening intently. “You’re with us.”

“I know. But we…”

“Are together,” he assures.

My bottom lip wobbles, and those pesky emotional things fill my eyes. “I’m not…” I croak, trailing off.

“Aww. Christ. Get over here. Don’t cry.” Coffin ushers me over, but I don’t move.

“I’m not,” I lie, looking at the wall, sniffling.

“Yeah. Ya are. And when you’re hurting, I need to kill somethin’,” the brute grates.

“You can, you know.”

“Kill?”

Chewing the inside of my cheek, I dip my head in a shallow nod. “Yeah.”

“I know. I’ve got a short run planned next week.”

“Will you…” I trail off, unable to form the words.

“Will I what?”

“Please don’t make me say it.” Bile surges up my throat, and I choke it down.

“Ya lost me here, Sweet Cheeks.”

“Fuck them,” I force out. “Will you… fuck them?” He’s done it before. I know it happens, but I don’t want that. I don’t want to share my body with someone who shares theirs with the women they kill. Or any woman, for that matter. I just…

“No,” Coffin snaps. “Why the hell would I do that?”

“Because that’s what you do.”

His nostrils flare. “Are you mine?”

Chewing my bottom lip, I bob my head. “Yes. Yes. I think so.” Why else would I be here?

Getting off the bed, Coffin approaches, grips my hips, and drags me flush against him. I tip my head back to look at his face. My stomach swirls in confusion… because this is a lot. It’s been a lot for weeks.

“Then why would I stick my dick in any other whore than you?” Pressing his mouth to mine, Coffin whispers, “You’re the only whore I want. My dick belongs to you now.”

“But what if you get…”

He nips my bottom lip, enough to sting but not draw blood. “Horny?”

“Yeah,” I whisper.

“Look at this.” Pulling back just enough, he shoves his hand in front of my face. “I have two of these and FaceTime. You can use Rot’s phone.”

“To do what?”

“Let me watch him fuck you.”

Oh.

I swallow thickly, loving the sound of that. Of us and…Wow. Yes. All that. I shiver. “Just like that?”

“Yeah.” He grins like a demon. “Just like that. And when I get home, I’ll make you hurt a little.” Sliding his hands down my backside, he grips my ass cheeks hard.

I moan in pleasured pain as my pussy clenches. “You can hurt me now.”

Coffin shakes his head. “No. Not yet. Soon.”

“There. Ordered. We have ten new board games arriving this week,” Rot calls. “Hey. What the fuck are you doing?” he adds when he notices me standing by Coffin.

“Talkin’,” his brother grunts.

“Right. Well, can you take that damn dress off our woman? ”

Lifting my arms in the air, Coffin pulls the garment over my head, balls it up, and pitches it at Rot’s head, who catches it and laughs.

“That what you wanted?” Coffin growls, wearing the sexiest lopsided smirk.

I lean in and suck his collarbone. His entire body vibrates as he growls again and fixes me on his throat.

“Suck,” he demands, and I do.