Page 20 of Queen of Anarchy (Dirty Broken Savages 2)

Those big hands run down my back to cup my ass, and he lifts me effortlessly, settling me on the counter, right next to all the tools we’ve been cleaning and sorting. All those instruments for causing pain and agony just inches away from where I’m spreading my legs and letting him fit himself between them.

It’s almost automatic to grind forward against him now that I have more space and leverage to do so, and I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him in even closer.

Knox gives a husky chuckle against my lips and then goes back to kissing me like he wants to turn me into a puddle of a person. Not that I’m complaining about it.

He gropes my tits roughly while we make out, squeezing the soft flesh between his fingers until I’m panting hard and soaking my panties.

“Fuck,” I manage to gasp out. “Knox, I—”

There are a lot of things I could follow that up with.

I need it.

Need you.

Want more.

But I don’t finish the sentence at all, settling for rolling my body against his so he can feel every bit of the need coursing through me instead.

He gets the message pretty quickly even without words, pulling back enough to show me the predator’s smile that curves his lips before he grabs for a knife from the neat array of instruments next to us.

The blade is wickedly sharp, and when he slices through the front of my bra, he knicks me with the cold steel. It burns a little, but I lean into it, lifting my hips so he can yank my pants and underwear down.

As soon as I’m naked, my hands go to his shirt, yanking it up and over his head. It gets tossed to the floor somewhere, and Knox makes quick work of his pants, shoving them down so his cock juts out from his body.

He’s so fucking big, and the piercing that goes through the tip glints in the overhead light, drawing my eyes right to it. My mouth waters, and my pussy throbs, and I’m too fucking worked up to wait.

“I need you inside me,” I pant out.

“Fuck, yes,” Knox replies, sounding just as strung-out with desire as I am. He looms over me, using his bulk to press me back until I’m lying down on the counter, legs still draped over the edge.

The smooth surface is cold against my bare skin, and I shiver a little before spreading my legs even wider for him. His cock is right there, and my pussy pulses again, letting me know it’s empty and would like to be full now, please and thank you.

I reach for Knox, pulling him down closer so his lips meet mine, kissing him hot and hard.

He kisses me back, but then decides to be a fucking tease, dragging his cock against my opening without pushing in. I make a frustrated noise and arch against him, trying to get him to drive into me, but he just laughs and keeps up the teasing.

The head of his cock nudges my clit, sending sparks all through my body, and I growl softly.

“Stop fucking torturing me,” I snap, glaring up at him when we pause for breath. “Either fuck me or get off me, you fucking asshole.”

Something flares in his eyes from my words, and I’m not sure what he’ll do. When his hand comes up to wrap around my neck, my eyes go wide. But not with fear. Even though his hand is big enough to cover my whole throat, cutting off just enough of my air that I notice, I’m not afraid. The rush that courses through me is pure desire, and I moan his name in a choked voice.

Almost like he’s proved his point or something, Knox finally gives in and drives into me hard and fast. His cock bottoms out in me with a wet sound, and I cry out at the throbbing pleasure.

His hand around my neck, his thick cock inside me… they’re both driving me nuts, and I writhe on the table under him while he sets a pace that makes the counter creak and has me holding on to him almost for dear life.

But it feels fucking good. So good. My head is clear of anything but the way it feels to have him fucking me, his cock filling me up, his body pressed against mine.

Releasing his grip on my throat, Knox mouths at my neck and over my collarbones, finding the shallow cut he left when he cut my bra off and licking up the blood that’s welled to the surface.

When he looks up again, his eyes are so dark they seem to take all the light with them. He drives into me hard enough to make me nearly scream, and that sets off his feral grin again.

“Love the way you sound… when I fuck you like this,” he pants. “When you scream for me.”

He slams in hard again, getting a strangled moan this time.

Those dark, deviant eyes flick to the tools next to us again, and then back to me. Before he even says anything, I feel like I know what he’s thinking. I can see the invitation in his expression, in the way his eyelids droop and his tongue darts out to wet his lips.

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