Page 57 of Property of Necro (Kings Of Anarchy MC: Illinois #1)

Chapter

Thirty-Nine

Day One

Carrying plates from the kitchen, I set them in the center of our table.

Everyone’s here—even Necro. Mama hands me a basket of biscuits I helped bake today, and I push up on my tippy toes to squish it between a mac-n-cheese casserole and a bowl of green beans.

I won’t be touching those today. They’re from Doug’s Garden.

Ya know, the one fed with rapist compost. I know one of these days I gotta get past that, but today is not that day.

Coffin pats my ass as I turn to accept the butter from Mama. “Well, hello, handsome,” I tease, and he laughs, sliding his hand up the backside of my t-shirt and touching my bare ass. I swat his hand away, but he doesn’t stop, and I don’t want him to anyhow.

“Isn’t it time to eat?” I nod toward his empty dinner plate.

Shoving his plate to the side, Coffin pats the top of the table. “If you’re offerin’, then yeah. Hop on up, Sweet Cheeks.”

My jaw hits the floor.

He… he made a pervy joke, didn’t he?

The men howl in laughter as I turn to face Coffin and cup both his cheeks. They’re bristly from not shaving for a few days. “You can have dessert later,” I promise.

The handsome man’s face pinkens just a fraction, and he grins the most adorable, shy grin I’ve ever seen. Gah. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with these men.

It’s one thing to be growly and possessive, which is totally hot.

But this…

I lean down to kiss his forehead when one of the brothers adds, “He could have dessert now. We don’t mind.”

The air shifts, growing heavier, and I know what’s about to happen before it does.

Coffin’s entire demeanor changes from playful to murdery in three seconds.

Not wanting anyone to end up exterminated tonight like I heard Worm was when I was away, I quickly straddle Coffin’s lap and force his hands to my ass, his favorite part of me, for some silly reason.

He tries to stand up, but I grip his face and force him to look me in the eye. “It was a joke.”

The cords in Coffin’s neck turn to steel, and his gaze narrows. “I. Don’t. Care,” he growls, low and menacing.

Of course, he doesn’t.

Ugh. Men.

“We’re here to have dinner together,” I remind, my voice soft, trying to navigate a different, less violent path. “Now grab my ass. ”

He doesn’t.

Instead, he growls like a stubborn beast, so I slap his cheek lightly to make him listen. “I said, grab my ass.”

Snarling, Coffin snaps his teeth like he wants to hurt me.

So, I let him. If that’s what he wants. His wish is my command.

Reaching down, I slip the blade from his boot and offer it to him.

“Go on.” I tug the neck of my t-shirt down, giving him plenty of skin to puncture without having to get naked in front of everyone, which he wouldn’t want.

“Sola?” he rumbles, looking between my face and the knife.

“Do it.”

Taking the blade from me, he lines it up and slices across my upper chest. I suck in a sharp breath as fire blooms in its wake and crimson rushes downward.

Throwing his knife on the table, Coffin dives for my wound and sucks.

I hold his head to me and let him drink.

I don’t know why he loves the taste of blood, and it doesn’t matter.

It centers him and turns him on, but it also takes the edge off.

So as everyone around us carries on and serves themselves dinner, my big blond licks, sucks, and bites me.

Thick fingers embed into my ass cheeks. His cock grows hard.

I feel it through the denim, but I don’t act on it.

This isn’t the time for sex. It’s time for his release, and that’s what I’m giving him.

Sitting in a chair, one over, Rot points the tine of his fork at the offending brother. “You’re lucky Sola’s a fuckin’ saint, or you’d be dead.”

“I… Yeah.” The man looks at me and runs a hand across his head, ashamed. “I’m sorry. ”

Hearing the brother address me, Coffin blindly reaches for his knife and points it in his direction before ripping his mouth from my wound with a grumbled gasp.

“Don’t. Speak. To. Her. Ever,” he rasps, wiping the back of his hand across his blood-coated lips.

He looks like a vampire—a super sexy one.

I lean in to lick the remnants from the corner of his mouth that he missed.

Said brother throws both hands up in apology. “Sorry. It won’t happen again.”

Keeping his gaze down to not provoke a pissed-off Coffin, Rot flashes me a smirk and a wink like we’re in on the same secret.

I guess we are. Coffin’s overprotective.

Way overprotective. But now’s not the time to talk to him about that.

Maybe later. When he’s less angry and can understand that me not speaking to the brothers isn’t healthy if I plan to stay.

It alienates me from them and vice versa.

Once Coffin’s calmer and far less grumbly, I slide off his lap and take my chair beside him. But before I can serve myself any dinner, Necro waves me over.

Is this when he makes me sit on the floor again, like last time?

He hasn’t seen me eat at the table yet. Maybe he doesn’t approve?

As I approach, Necro scoots his chair back, and I stop beside him. He pats his lap, and I stare like an idiot.

His eyes crinkle around the edges like he’s smiling behind the mask, but I… don’t understand.

He pats his lap again. Sit, he signs.

Oh .

Ohhhh.

Not sure of the protocol here since he doesn’t usually let anyone touch him, I tentatively lower myself on the edge of his closest leg, and he situates me so I’m draped across him—feet off the floor, sitting crossways so I can see his face. He snaps his fingers and gestures to my empty plate.

Rot stands and prepares it for me.

“No vegetables,” I request, but he ignores me and adds the green beans anyhow, but not before sparing me one of those don’t-argue-it’s-good-for-you looks.

I don’t know how eating dead, bad guys is good for you, so I guess those green beans will end up in the trash. That’s his fault for letting them go to waste, not mine. I didn’t pick them.

Rot delivers the food, along with silverware and a napkin.

He kisses my cheek. “Enjoy,” he purrs as he reclaims his chair and leans over to share a quiet conversation with Coffin that I’m not privy to.

But I see them. They’re talking about us.

Their eyes cut our way far too often for it to be a coincidence.

Necro stabs the fork through a bite of mac-n-cheese and lifts it to my lips.

Oh.

I try to take it from him to feed myself, but he pulls me off. “You don’t have to do this,” I whisper so nobody else hears.

His gaze narrows as he returns the fork to my lips and waits.

I open, he gently glides in, and I close around the cheesy morsel before he slowly pulls out and shivers.

His eyes squeeze shut for half a beat, and I hear his heavy breath before he procures another bite, and we repeat the same motions, over and over, until everything’s gone except the green beans.

He listened.

I don’t know why that touches me, but it does. When I lean in and kiss his cheek right above the mask to show my appreciation, I don’t think about how he might react, but when he groans the hottest broken sound, I’m instantly wet.

Slowly pulling back, I meet his gaze and whisper, “Thank you.”

His throat rolls as he swallows thickly and nods once.

Since he let me touch him yesterday, I haven't seen Necro. He didn’t meet me in the bedroom for morning sex like I’d hoped.

He didn’t watch me shower. I haven’t asked the guys what he’s up to because it’s not my business, but I heard them last night when they thought I was asleep. They were too rowdy to miss.

Rot wants Necro to give me a month. A month of us all together. To see if we fit. If not, he’ll give Necro what he wants. Death.

I don’t want that.

Not ever.

Even though I’m scared to trust them and let them in because I don’t want to end up hurt, nobody does.

I also can’t imagine a world without them—without Necro.

He can’t die. He just can’t. I won’t pretend to know what he’s gone through, but the scars on his legs and penis are indication enough of his horrible past.

But this isn’t then .

This isn’t living in a dark closet with my mother or sharing a house with Ted.

This isn’t foster care or sexual abuse from old women or torture at the hands of a cult.

Not anymore.

We survived.

Everyone sitting at this table survived something horrific.

Curling up in Necro’s lap, I rest my cheek against his shoulder as I listen to the brothers carry on and observe what Necro does when he’s here—not eating, not talking, just listening to them.

It’s a big family. They tell stories and joke about dumb shit like men do.

They all help carry the plates to the kitchen when they’re done to give Mama a much-needed break.

When everyone’s done and Necro’s ready to get up, he helps me stand. I expect him to leave me to run off to do whatever he does, but he doesn’t. Folding my fingers through his, he escorts me down the stairs to his bedroom, not mine, and guides me to the oversized chair.

He nods for me to sit, and I do as he walks back and forth in front of his bookshelf a handful of times before selecting two different novels.

He hands one to me before setting the other on the floor as he removes his boots.

Then, once he’s ready, he sits beside me on the chair, and we cuddle and read together, hip to hip. It’s peaceful. It’s perfect.

When Coffin stops to check on us, he finds Necro’s hand on my thigh, rubbing in small circles. He kisses me quickly and doesn’t stay long. Neither does Rot or Mama when they come to check on things .

Necro eats at one point, in the corner of his room, his back to me, like it’s something to hide. But I don’t comment on it. This is a baby step, and I’m proud of him for taking it.

When I begin to lose focus and can barely stay awake, I’m more than halfway through my book. Stretching my arms over my head and pointing my bare toes, I yawn. “I need to sleep.”

Looking at me from the corner of his eye, Necro nods once, shallow and almost sad.

His shoulders slump as he slides off the chair and offers me his hand to tug me to him.

Together, we exit his room to go into mine.

He stands at the doorway to the bathroom as I brush my teeth and hair before bed.

Then, when it’s time, he tucks me in for the first time in ages.

And my body feels it… hope blooming.

Happiness.

The warmth spreads through me like embers of a fire as I climb into my casket and lie down.

I don’t fight him this time like I have before.

When I expect him to shut the lid, Necro doesn’t. He stares at me, brows furrowed in the center like he’s warring with himself. Then, as if he’s made up his mind, he nods once and reaches around to unlatch his mask, exposing his real face to me—scars and all.

I reach out to touch him, and he bends down to let me. Running my fingers across his cheek, down to his lips, I feel him, and he closes his eyes, savoring the touch, like he’s enjoying himself and not in any pain. It’s beautiful. Every part of him. Of this .

“Thank you,” I whisper, not wanting to break our cozy bubble.

Necro slowly opens his eyes, and when they meet mine, he leans further into my casket and presses his mouth to mine.

It’s rough yet gentle. His hot breath puffs over my face, and I kiss him back.

Soft at first. A light peck, then a deeper one, and when he groans, I nip his scarred bottom lip, and he shudders, gripping the other side of my casket so he doesn’t fall in.

I kiss and touch him and rub my hand over his head, greedy for more.

“Necro,” I gasp, wanting him to climb inside and fuck me. “Please.”

Shuddering violently, Necro goes stock still. A broken moan wrenches out of his throat, and a moment later, he jerks away.

That’s when I see it as he grabs his mask…a wet spot on the crotch of his jeans.

Then he’s gone, slamming his bedroom door shut behind him.

Smiling softly despite his abrupt departure, I touch my lips and scissor my legs together, aching for more.

Just a little more. More kisses. Skin. More…

of him. I could get up and go after Necro, but I won’t.

He needs space. I don’t know how I know, but I do.

This has been a lot to process. It’s been a lot for all of us.

Not wanting to come without one of my men, I suppress my need and close the casket, even though I’m suddenly not tired anymore.

Tomorrow’s a new day.

If it’s even half as good as today, it’ll be awesome.

Nighty night.