Page 67 of Ruthless Rebel

His eyes are shimmering with power and desperation, and I know I’ve got him, because when he guides his cock back into my mouth, it’s with a shove. “Remember, you asked for it,” he muses cockily, before snapping his hips roughly, forcing me to choke on his long length.

Then he is fucking my mouth, ramming his cock to the back of my throat over and over, until I am gagging and spluttering around him, and still I crave more. My hands bite into his hips, begging for him to go faster, to erase the longing and pining and show me who he belongs to, and he doesn’t disappoint. There is unrestrained power and force in every snap of his hips, that make me all too aware there is a Donovan claiming me.

“Fuck, Linc,” he grits out, fucking my face in the most delicious manner ever, as my right hand slides down to his ass, and grabs it roughly, squeezing it tight. My fingers brush against his hole, and the sound he makes causes a visceral reaction throughout my body. “Oh god,” he cries, as my fingers explore, massaging him gently, and fantasizing about being the one to take him there. “I’m going to come,” he calls out, and all I do is press my fingers down harder, and suck him deeper, encouraging him to let go, and he does.

He comes on a choked moan, jetting his cum down my throat with quick snaps of his hips, until I have wrung every last drop from his cock, and he is panting to catch his breath. When his length falls from my mouth, I lick my lips, cleaning up the escaped spit and salty essence of him, and just as I am about to praisehim on a job well done, another familiar voice beats me to it.

“Well, that was the best fucking porn I’ve ever seen,” Logan drawls, and my gaze snaps to where he leans across the doorframe.

There is a fiery look in his eye, as Asher pulls himself from my mouth and I feel some of his cum spill onto my lips, but Logan just smirks, not seeming pissed off in the slightest, but I’m sure that’s about to change.

34

LOGAN

When I woke up this morning, and saw a couple of missed text messages from Asher telling me he needed me at the penthouse, the last thing I expected to find when I got here, was him fucking Lincoln’s face like a man on a mission. A hot as fuck, could only be stirred up in my mind, sex mission, but here we are.

“Damn, my little psycho, when you invited me over I didn’t think it was so you could put on a show,” I grin, my eyes dragging over his half-naked form, as he rushes to tuck himself away into his gray sweats.

“Lo, you came,” he coughs out, glancing at Lincoln with hesitating eyes, and it’s only when I follow his stare, that I notice the bandage taped over his left ribs below his heart, and my smile drops.

“What the fuck happened to you?” I choke, rushing to his side and pressing my hands there.

“Nothing,” Lincoln snaps, trying to placate me, as Asher grits, “He was stabbed.”

“Stabbed?” I question, looking between them both for answers, and Lincoln glares at Ash as if he is some kind of traitor.

“I’m fine, really,” Lincoln starts, trying to push me away so he can sit up. “What are you doing here, I thought you weren’t coming home until tomorrow?” He adds in question, and I pretend not to feel hurt at his accusatory tone.

“Asher texted me early this morning, he said I needed to come over, that it was urgent,” I say, looking at the man in question, who is still glaring at Lincoln with contempt.

“It is urgent,” he snaps, storming around the bed to stand beside me. “The knife didn’t hit anything vital from what I can tell, and I cleaned and stitched him up as best I could, but I still thought it would be better to have a professional take a look at it.”

I watch them both closely, sensing a change in them, one that warms my heart, despite the temperature in the room plummeting since I arrived. “Well, I’m not a professional yet,” I muse, trying to lighten the mood, as I bend down and survey Ash’s handy work. “But I’ll still take a look, though I’m sure you did a great job.”

Asher grabs a discarded first aid kit, as I help Lincoln into a pair of boxers and position him against the headboard, propped up on some pillows. He still looks completely annoyed at being fussed over, but I can tell from the look in his eyes that he is in actual pain. So I’m sure to be gentle as I pull away the tape around his bandages, and then lift the gauze to inspect the wound.

A large, angry, red, jagged wound greets me, and a mixture of anger and worry stir up inside of me. “Which one of you is going to tell me who did this?” I ask, flicking my gaze between them, and Lincoln opens his mouth, and I’m sure like me, Ash senses he is about to try and bullshit me.

“His name was Billy Powell,” Asher cuts in before him, a calm and dangerous aura about him now.

“Was?” I push, sliding my fingers along the wound gently, assessing its severity, and admiring the stitches Asher put in, because of course the little psycho knows how to stitch someone up so perfectly.

“Yes, was, I killed him, there’s his heart,” Ash replies casually, pausing me in my tracks, and I look to him, and then follow his gaze to the bedside table, and sure enough, there bundled up in a jar, is a human heart.

“You cut out his heart? And gifted it to Linc in a jar with his favorite candy?” I ask, shaking my head, before focusing back on Lincoln. “And to think he thought he was hiding the fact he wanted you?” I laugh, and finally Linc smirks.

“Well, we never accused him of being subtle,” he jokes, but it quickly turns to a gasp of pain, as my hands continue to inspect his injured side.

“Everything looks okay to me, stitches are neat, I could barely have done them better myself,” I say, checking each one meticulously, and trying not to cringe every time he flinches in pain. “I think with some antibiotics to fight off any infections you’ll be fine, but I still think we should do an x-ray just to rule out any internal bleeding,” I add, and both of them look at one another and communicate something silently.

“This needs to stay between us,” Lincoln finally says, looking back at me. “I don’t want Elle and the guys involved in any of this, and I can’t exactly walk into a hospital, it will risk too many questions.”

I know what he’s trying to say, without saying it. He wants to keep our family out of it, and that extends to not involving my father or any of the private hospitals we usually go to, which leaves us with very limited options.

Yet before I can come up with anything else, Asher is jumping in. “I’ll call Graves, I think the Crows still have someonefor stuff like this under the table, and they owe us a favor.”

An hour later, we are pulling up around the back of a small veterinary clinic in Fairfield, to find Killian Drake and Ezra Bishop waiting. The Hallowed Crows MC have been quiet since they finally eliminated Carter Fitzgerald, and both them and the Rebels came to an agreement to always have the other’s back, yet they don’t exactly mingle often.

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