Page 70 of Property of Necro (Kings Of Anarchy MC: Illinois #1)

Rot forces her to suck his cock. Plunging deep into her throat, where she can’t breathe, but it doesn’t stop her from squirting. Pulling my cock from her cunt, I drop to my knees and drink her offering as I rub her pierced clit roughly with my thumb.

Rot’s dick slides from her mouth with an audible pop , and Sola’s back arches as our wife’s beautiful screams fill the hall.

“Fuck,” Coffin grunts beside me, watching me feast on her cunt, the best I can. “She tastes good, huh?”

Grabbing his calf, I squeeze it and wave for him to join me. Falling to his knees, we take turns lapping our wife as Rot wrecks her throat.

Hours later, once we’re sated, barely able to walk, I carry my sleepy Soul to Rot’s bedroom, where we climb into bed together, and Sola drifts in dream, suckling Coffin’s half-hard cock.

“We really need a bigger bed.” Rot chuckles as we struggle to lay together without someone ending up with a dick prodding their ass. I scoot to the bottom and stretch out along their feet.

Coffin chuckles, combing his fingers through Sola’s mess of red curls. He smiles warmly at her, content.

We need to fix up the basement, I sign, hating that we don’t share a space where all of us can live harmoniously together. Close by. Sure. A short trip down the stairs isn’t far, but it’s not the same as waking up in the next room.

“If Sola’s fine givin’ up her casket, we could turn her bedroom into ours.” Rot gestures between him and Coffin.

“Ours?” Coffin scoffs. “I’m not sharing a bedroom with you, asshole.”

“Yes. You will. We’re husbands now.” Rot flashes Coffin his ring finger, and Coffin’s nostrils flare like he wants to argue, but then he looks down at our sweet Sola, and the fight dies on his tongue.

Rot continues, “Necro can’t share. He might kill one of us if he has another fucked-up nightmare. The next best option is redoing Sola’s room, which isn’t much anyway. It’s basically a blank slate.”

“You wanna share a bed with me?” Coffin asks.

“I wanna share a bed with you and our woman.”

“Gay.”

Rot flicks Coffin’s ear. “Asshole.”

“The next thing you know, you’ll be eating our cum. Wait. You already do that,” Coffin torments.

Rot snorts and rolls his eyes, not the least bit offended. “Fuck off.”

Coffin smirks. “I suppose sharin’ a bed with you won’t be too horrible.”

“You sleep in here more than in your room anyway.”

“When Sola’s here.”

“And when she’s not.”

Coffin slaps Rot’s chest, right over the fresh S. The sound echoes through the room. “Fuck off.”

Absorbing the blow, Rot grits his teeth. “What? Admit it, asshole. You like me. We’re best friends.”

“We’re brothers.”

Rolling onto his side, Rot reaches into his nightstand for a tissue and drops back onto his back to blot his weeping wound. “And husbands.”

“No,” Coffin barks. “We’re brothers. She’s our wife. We are not husbands. I didn’t say vows to your dumbass. I made vows to her. I don’t see an R carved into my chest, do you? ”

Rot waggles his brows and grins at Coffin, baiting him. “There could be.”

“Would you stop? I’m gonna murder you.”

“Why? This is the best day of my fuckin’ life. Givin’ you shit when you can’t stab me is the cherry on top.”

“I hate you.” Coffin stares at the ceiling and moves his lips like he’s sending up a silent prayer to a deity none of us believe in.

Rot blows Coffin an air kiss. “I love you, too, husband.”

“Ugh. You’re not gonna stop, are you?”

“Not on your life.” The shit stirrer grins.

Ignoring Rot, Coffin swings his attention to me. “Explain to me… Why he’s part of the package deal.” He flicks his gaze over to our brother in question.

Family, I sign, tryin’ not to laugh at their childish bullshit.

“So, we pick up an annoying asshole in foster care, and suddenly we’re all married to the same woman.”

“Yep. It’s amazing, isn’t it?” Rot sings, lying back in bed, arms tucked behind his head, a smug smile firmly locked in place.

Sighing, Coffin pushes a curl off Sola’s forehead, and when he sighs a second time, the tension in his shoulders deflates as he touches her cheek, and she continues to suckle him even in her sleep.

“Yeah. It’s somethin’.” Coffin smiles softly, and that is why this works…

why we’re brothers… why she’s ours… why I’m still alive.

Sure, there are bad days.

Days I don’t want to live.

Days I hate myself.

Days that my past erodes the present .

But today ain’t that fuckin’ day, and with Sola and my brothers, those days are less and less as of late.

“You know what I was thinkin’?” Rot comments wistfully, crossing his ankles, his soft cock resting against his thigh.

What? I sign with one hand, perched on my side as my other holds my head.

“If we hadn’t gotten snipped and Sola still had her uterus, we could have a baby.”

Coffin makes a choking sound. “Shut the fuck up.”

“What? You wouldn’t want a little redhead running around here?”

“Fuck no… and I’ve got a little redhead. Our old lady.”

“Fine,” our brother pouts.

“Seriously, Rot. There’s some shit to daydream about. Havin’ kids ain’t it. We have chickens. They’re your kids,” Coffin explains.

Rot looks at me and arches a brow like I might back him up on this, but I’m stayin’ out of it. There’s no way I’d want kids, not with Sola or anyone.

When I don’t reply, Rot huffs and tucks his arms across his pecs. “Fine. The chicken’s work.”

They’d better work.

He spent so much of our lives focused on finding us a match. Now that we have one, this ain’t the time to find a new dream of parenthood. That’s where I’ll pull the Prez card.

We kill people for money, for fuck’s sake.

That money will get us a new bedroom and fix up the church. It’s what bankrolls the shit Sola has us doin’ in town.

She’s got a vision that costs big bucks. I guess it’s a good thing we’re rollin’ in the dough, ‘cause it ain’t cheap.

Closing my eyes, I listen to Sola’s soft, sleepy sounds as Rot and Coffin continue to bicker, and before I’m about to pass out, I kiss my woman goodnight and see myself to bed, alone, downstairs.

It’s not the ending I want to a perfect day.

But it’s my life.

And knowin’ they’ve got her tucked away safe and sound makes me breathe a whole lot easier when I shut myself into the casket to sleep.

“In order for the light to shine so brightly, the darkness must be present.” - Francis Bacon.

The end…

Or is it?