Skirt (Ruthless Kings MC #5) - K.L. Savage Page 0,53
He reaches for me, and I scurry away from him, tears rolling down my eyes. I can only see Cohen. Cohen forcing me to suck his cock. Cohen fucking my face. Cohen not caring that he’s hurting me by shoving his cock so far down my throat I can’t breathe.
Before a fight and after a fight. My mouth was his.
“Christ, please don’t be scared of me. I’m sorry. I thought… I thought we were playing. I’m so fucking sorry.” He falls to his knees on the ground and inches his way toward me. “I didn’t know.”
A sob catches my throat, but all I can do is nod.
“I’m going to kill him,” Skirt says, pulling me to his chest.
“He made me—” I hiccup at the thought. “He’d leave me—” But it’s useless. I can’t get the words out. All I can feel is the humiliation, the pain of being used.
“I’ll never do it again,” Skirt swears, pulling me onto his lap as I cry.
I feel so stupid. Why would Skirt want to be with someone like me? A woman who can’t even manage to suck her man’s cock? Am I going to freak out every time he tries? I hate Cohen for ruining me.
“Ye can go, but I swear, you have to stick with the brothers, okay?” He tilts my chin up to look at him, and his face is blurry through my watery eyes. His finger brushes over the yellow bruises that are quickly healing. “I can’t stand the thought of anything bad happening to ye.”
“Nothing will as long as I’m with you and your brothers.”
A knock at the door interrupts us, and it’s Tongue, the creepy guy who always has the knife. His hair hangs in his face, and his stares at us on the floor. “We need to go.” He turns on his boot that jingles as he walks away, and Skirt exhales, placing his forehead on my shoulder.
Why can’t everything be normal? Why can’t we stay here on the floor, happy in each other’s arms? Why does the world have to be so cruel?
“Come on, Lips. We need to get going. If I’m late, I forfeit, and I can’t lose.” Skirt stands, and I expect him to place me on my feet, but he continues to hold me. “I like ye here. I think I’ll hold ye till we get to the cage.”
I lean my head against his chest, relieved that Skirt is the type of man to accept things as they are. He didn’t push me when I backed away from him, unable to give him head, unlike the cut-sluts. A sliver of fear makes its way into my bones, and something makes me wonder if being unable to suck him will be a problem. I know it was for Cohen. Anytime I denied him, he made me push my ass up and my head down, and when he was done, he’d fuck my face anyway.
I clutch Skirt’s cut, as he calls it, and hold onto him as if he’s the only thing keeping me fixated on this earth. Gravity is giving way from under me, and Skirt is holding me tight, making sure I don’t float away. His strength, power, and tenderness is compelling, enthralling, and addicting. A woman could get used to being with a man so viral, so electrically charge.
It would be all too easy to give up everything for Skirt. He’s my anti-gravity, the space where there is no force, no strain, no weaknesses, just a safe place to be, to soar and be free.
I suck in a breath and close my eyes as Skirt carries me to the truck. Everyone uses it when they need it and since Skirt doesn’t have a bike, he has been driving it. When I hear the doors open, Skirt somehow finds a way to keep a tight hold on me while he sits in the back seat.
The leather is hot, and the cab of the truck is stuffy which makes it hard to breathe. Fluttering my eyes open, Tongue is in the driver’s seat and Knives is in the passenger seat, pretending to throw his ninja star through the windshield. A roar of bikes sound behind us, and I don’t need to look back to see them following. They’re coming to support their brother.
I flinch when I think of seeing Skirt hit and plummeted with fists, and I hold onto him tighter.
Without saying a word, he tightens his arms around me in a hug, and