Skirt (Ruthless Kings MC #5) - K.L. Savage Page 0,40

hurts to the perfect extent.

Just what I needed. Fuck that cock, Candy. Faster.

Bullseye’s dirty talk to one of the cut-sluts has me moaning into Skirt’s mouth, and my clit throbs for his touch. I rock against him, seeking the friction, seeking something to ease the ache he’s causing inside me.

“Ye have no idea what I want from ye,” he mumbles against my lips, licking the seam and outlining my mouth. I never thought that would be erotic, but it is. I want him to lick my entire body, set me ablaze.

“Tell me,” I beg, whimpering into his mouth as his cock slides over my clit. I haven’t dry humped since I was sixteen, and if we keep going like this, I’m going to come.

“No,” he says. “I want ye to listen to Bullseye and Candy fucking.” He pins my arm above my head and seals his mouth on mine again, rocking until my eyes are rolling back and my groans of pleasure are meshing with Candy’s.

His fingers dig in my side, and his kisses his way down my neck, sucking on a spot below my ear. I stretch my neck back, giving him as much access as I can. And then he pulls away from me, leaving me needy and in pain.

He rubs a hand over his mouth, and his cock strains against his kilt, so I know he wants me. “We need to stop. I—ye don’t need this. I don’t know—”

Before he can finish, I shove him in the chest, and he stumbles back against the window. I grab his cock through his kilt and he hisses, then I grip his chin in my hand and sneer, “You will not leave me aching. I haven’t felt like this in years.”

He pushes me off him and wraps his hand around my throat and squeezes. My hands wrap around his wrist as I suck in a lungful of air, then he slams me on the bed. “Ye don’t get to decide, Lips.” He bends down and kisses me, but I don’t kiss him back, which only makes him growl and kiss me harder.

I’m not sure of the dynamic we have going on right now, but it’s unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. He likes the fight, and I like to give it to him. I never got to fight before. I’m always subdued, and I don’t like to be.

There’s a difference between abuse and consensual roughness. With what has happened to me, I didn’t think I’d like another man touching me like this.

Skirt is letting me fight back where as Cohen, if I fought, made me taste my own blood from hitting me across the face so much.

“Fuck her harder, Bullseye!” Skirt yells to other side of the wall, and the sound of skin slapping stops for a second, before a giggle sounds, then they start back at it again; this time, it’s like they are in the same room. They must have gotten off the bed and Bullseye is fucking her against the wall. “Ye like that,” Skirt notices, keeping a tight grip on my neck as he cups my pussy. “I can feel how much ye want it.” He slides off my shorts, keeping his eyes locked on mine, waiting to see if I protest.

Again, there’s a difference between protesting and fighting for more.

When I don’t stop him, Skirt’s mouth parts when he sees my pink panties. His throat bobs, and for a split second the confidence drains from his eyes. His thumb presses against my clit, sliding the material over the swollen nub, my back bends and his hand loosens around my neck.

“Skirt!” I moan, shouting into the room, being loud on purpose. I want the other room to hear me. It fuels their passion, and the banging against the wall becomes quicker, and the faster they fuck, the quicker Skirt circles my clit. It’s been years since I’ve had an orgasm. Cohen never let me have pleasure.

I was always expected to wait for him on the bed after a fight, ass up face down, and he’d use me. So right now I’m extra sensitive. The sound of material tearing and a cold burst of air over my bare pussy has me glaring at Skirt, narrowing my eyes. “Those were my favorite pair.”

He lifts me by my legs and sets my knees on his shoulders. “I’ll buy ye more.” On those final words, he feasts on me. He growls into my cunt, tongue fucking my hole and flicking my