Page 36 of Queen of Anarchy (Dirty Broken Savages 2)

My nails graze his nipples, and he groans into the kiss, retaliating by biting down on my lower lip hard enough to make me gasp.

I can feel him smirk at that, and I dig my nails in a little harder.

Before, there was always the lingering question of how things would be if we were ever to have sex. Everything else was so fucking good. All the almosts and false starts. But now, we know how good it is. We were both there the other night, losing control in that bathroom. The knowledge that we’re good together is there in the way we touch, the way he grips my ass and hauls me closer, grinding against me.

It would be good enough if it was just the desire that always hangs in the air between us, but there’s more to it than that. There’s the knowledge that there are emotions involved, and the growing possessiveness I feel when it comes to him.

I said as much just now, and he didn’t run for the hills, so maybe that was what he wanted. It definitely seems to be, judging from the way he paws at me. The way he abandons my mouth to start kissing my neck, tugging at my clothes like he wants to rip them off me.

It makes it so much more desperate and hungry than our other encounters, the two of us just grinding against each other with wild abandon right there in the kitchen.

I can feel my pulse throbbing through my body, chasing out that bright, agitated jealousy and rage from before and replacing it with desire like molten lava. My heart pounds in time with the way Ash ruts against me, and my pussy throbs with need. It’s not enough to feel how hard he is through his pants, and it’s not enough to have his hands on me through my clothes.

I want more than this. Ineedit.

I feel consumed by it, and when Ash finally leaves my ass alone to grope at my chest, tweaking my nipples through the layers of clothes, I moan for him, loud and needy.

There’s a smirk on his face as he pulls back, but there’s still an edge to that look in his amber eyes. He still seems angry, almost like he’s being driven by the need to prove something to me or punish me for acting the way I did.

He goes for my neck again, and this time he bites down hard, making me cry out and buck against him. He doesn’t break the skin, but I can feel the intent behind it, and it makes me drip with desire.

His hands go back down to my waist, and he quickly gets my pants open so he can yank them down. Then he hoists me up onto the kitchen counter, dragging his palms down my now bare thighs.

“Ash,” I pant, more out of the need to say his name than anything else.

His eyes are still so heated, and without his glasses, I can see just how much gold there is in his irises when the light hits them. They’re a dark amber now, pupils blown wide with the force of the desire that’s connecting us in this moment.

He drops down to his knees on the kitchen floor, and my body hums with the anticipation of what he’s about to do. Before he even spreads my legs, I’m already quivering, and the first touch of his tongue to my clit is like electricity, shooting through me hot and fast.

I groan louder and tip my head back… then jolt in surprise when I catch sight of Priest standing in the kitchen doorway.

In the heat of the moment of my fight with Ash, I didn’t notice that Priest had followed us to the kitchen. I assumed he’d have wandered off somewhere else in the house—his piano room, maybe—not wanting to deal with the two of us screaming at each other over something he probably doesn’t care about.

But there he is, standing in the doorway watching us. His eyes are hard to read, and his face is just as impassive as always, but there’s something about the way he’s so still and silent that makes my heart race even faster.

As if realizing what I’m looking at, Ash glances up from his work between my legs, catching sight of Priest himself.

“Either join in or get out,” he mutters, not wasting any time before he dives right back in and keeps licking at my clit with long, smooth flicks of his tongue.

I open my mouth, not sure whether I want to moan in pleasure or say something to one or both of them. A strangled noise is all that comes out anyway, so I guess it doesn’t really matter. I can’t get my brain to cooperate enough to form words. Not with that molten pleasure shooting through me from Ash’s mouth on my pussy.

My eyes don’t stray from Priest, though. When I drag my gaze down his body, I can tell he’s hard in his pants. The bulge is noticeable, and it sends a thrill through me. For someone who has a hard time getting it up, Priest’s dick definitely seems to be working now.

There’s something there in his eyes, something that makes me think he wants to stay and watch, at the very least.

He glances at Ash after his friend delivers his ultimatum, and there’s a hesitation in the way he moves. Something is making him pause, like he’s unsure of what he wants to do.

My stomach clenches with the anticipation that he might stay—that I might get both of them. In a split second, my head fills with a torrent of all the things we could do together, making use of the kitchen counter or the table or whatever other flat surface we can find.

But then Priest turns and walks away without a word. Disappointment washes over me, but it’s not enough to kill the mood entirely. And it doesn’t last long at all, with Ash’s mouth working over time between my legs.

He’s going down on me almost aggressively, lips and tongue with an edge of teeth to it.

As if to make sure I don’t forget what the fuck this is all about, he grabs my ass, dragging me right to the edge of the counter until I don’t have anywhere to go. All I can do is grind against his face while he feasts on me. His fingers dig into the meat of my thigh, almost hard enough to be painful, and definitely hard enough to keep me on edge, unable to focus on anything but the way he plunges his tongue into my wet hole.

He sucks on my clit and drags his teeth against it, making me gasp out loud. My hips buck forward, and I bite down on my lower lip as pleasure rises up in me in a hot rush.

It’s almost like Ash wants to take out his frustration on me this way. Like he’s eating my pussy as a punishment and a way to turn what I said back around on him.

I called him mine. And this feels a little like he’s trying to prove that I’m his, too. That at least in this moment, my pussy is his… and he’ll do whatever the fuck he wants with it.

The pleasure from the force of his mouth on me is almost painful, but I don’t ask him to stop. I don’t try to pull away. If anything, the rough, almost vicious movements just make me want it more. I moan his name breathlessly as I feel my orgasm building and building, the burn of ecstasy growing too intense to ignore.

I practically scream when the climax breaks over me, threatening to drag me down and steal my breath.

“Fuck! Oh, fuck! Ash!”

As if I’m a glutton for punishment, I grind my hips forward, riding his face through the pleasure and the slight edge of pain.

I never want it to fucking stop.

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