Skirt (Ruthless Kings MC #5) - K.L. Savage Page 0,18

lick my lips, the taste of iron exploding as blood lingers in my mouth.

“It’s not necessary to keep me here, yet here we are. And my name is Dawn. Not Lips.”

“Oh, Lassie, yer name is Lips with that smart mouth ye got there.”

She clicks her tongue and sends the same right hook through the air, but this time I catch it, and spin her arm around, pinning it behind her back. She arches, and her arse presses against my pelvis, rubbing against my semi-hard cock. Christ, I’ve never had a woman fight me like this, and it’s turning me on.

“Calm down, Lips. I’m only here to help ye. I swear it,” I whisper against the side of her ear, inhaling the dried sweat against her skin. Fuck, her sweat smells sweet. If I really wanted to scare her, I’d flatten my tongue against her neck and taste her flesh, which I’m not going to do.

That’s weird.

Doesn’t mean I can’t think about it.

“I’ve heard that before.” Her foot smashes down on mine as hard as she can and then her elbow slams into my gut, then she bends her arm quick and her fist lands right above my cock, stealing the air out of my body.

“Fuck me,” I moan through a held, painful breath. My grip loosens on her wrist, and she yanks out of my hold to drive her knee straight into my balls. “Oh, shite.” My hands cup my bruised orbs, my pair of good fellas, and I fall to my knees. “Low blow.” I fall to my side, and the guys are hollering in laughter, stomping their feet against the porch.

The loud pound of their boots sound like the thunder in the sky, and my sack throbs in rhythm. I never lose a fight, but this woman brought me down in a matter of seconds. I think I’m in love. It’s the hottest thing I’ve ever experienced. I want her to take me down again, only in the bedroom, where she can really fuck me up.

The pain in my balls must be cutting off the oxygen to my brain because no man could want that.

A shadow falls over me, and I open one eye to see her dirty hair fall around her shoulders as she stares down at me. Her hands on her hips, her plump lips are pressed together, as if she’s annoyed by me.

Me!

It’s unheard of.

“Take me to your leader.”

A bubble of laughter escapes me. It’s loud and obnoxious and carries through the vast desert, but I can’t stop it. She sounds like an alien since she has no idea what title Reaper is known for. I flop to my back, holding one hand on my balls, and the other on my stomach as tears gather in my eyes from how hard I’m laughing.

My arse twinges with pain, but I don’t even care.

“Don’t laugh at me. I want to talk to him. Now! Or I’ll… I’ll…”

“Ye’ll what, Lips?” I flop to my side and lay one hand on the ground to push myself up onto my legs. “Kick me in the balls? Well, ye’ve done that. It hurt, by the way.” I dust off my kilt and sigh. Damn, that was a good laugh.

She narrows her eyes at me, the green-eyed monster coming to life, and she stomps toward the row of motorcycles, which are all parked in the same direction, leaning on their kickstands. It’s a beautiful picture. The symmetry doesn’t happen like that all the time.

“Woah, woah, woah!”

“Not the bikes!”

“I’ll give you a knife. Just don’t touch her. I just got her painted!”

The guys shout in protest, hoping to stop her, scared that she’ll kick the first bike and start a domino effect. Fuck. And of course, the one she’s standing at is Reaper’s. She lifts her leg and cocks her head at me, daring me not to take her to Reaper.

Fucking dares, always more trouble than what they are really worth.

“Take me to whoever is in charge!”

“Okay. I can do that. No need to go overboard with damaging the bikes. Those are expensive fixes. Person ye want to talk to is Reaper. He’s in his office. Where’d ye learn to fight like that?” I ask, rubbing my jaw as it throbs.

“None of your damn business.”

“Yer attitude won’t get ye far here, Lips. I’m nicer than a lot of the men here, and ye’ll do well to stay in line.”

She plants her foot and marches over to me, pointing a finger, then pushing it