Page 37 of Queen of Anarchy (Dirty Broken Savages 2)

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Ash

River’s fingersfind their way into my hair, holding on tight as she writhes and screams out her pleasure.

I can taste it on her when she comes, the way she’s helpless to stop shaking, to ignore what I’m doing to her. And I like that. I want her to feel it. I want her to know that I’m the one making her feel like this, and itdoesfucking mean something.

So I don’t let up.

One orgasm isn’t enough for me, and even though she’s still shaking from that one, I keep going. I lap at her folds, licking up every drop of the sweet, tangy evidence of her falling apart for me.

I know she must be sensitive from the way she jerks against me, but that doesn’t stop me either. I dig my fingers harder into her thigh and then work the fingers of my other hand into her pussy, letting her soaking wetness ease the slide as I press two digits into her.

“Ash!” she cries out, her hips jerking hard.

I just smirk into her pussy, savoring her like I can’t get enough. She tastes fucking divine, and it’s like I’m drowning in it. Her flavor, her smell, all of it coating my senses and making it impossible to focus on anything else. All I want is for her to fall apart for me again and again, to feel it each time she loses control.

I’m insatiable for it. I can’t get enough of the way it feels, so I keep pressing her, thrusting my fingers into her, while I lick and suck at her clit and everywhere else I can get my tongue.

It’s not long before she’s pulling my hair again, probably still coasting on the remnants of her first orgasm as I pull her right into a second.

She tries to muffle her yell of pleasure, but she doesn’t do a very good job, and I smirk again, humming against her as she falls apart.

I finally pull back to catch my breath, looking up at her. Her face is flushed, her silver hair a mess. She’s got one of her own hands wound into it like she needed something else to hold onto.

Her dark blue eyes are basically black with lust when she looks down at me, and they’re hazy and unfocused in a way that just strokes the fire inside me. She can pretend all she wants that it doesn’t mean anything, but I can see how turned on she is, how much she likes this and how helpless she is to resist it.

That makes two of us, considering that my cock is so hard it hurts where it’s pressed against the front of my boxers.

The fight killed the hard-on I had earlier, before River dragged Jennifer out of the house by her hair, but it’s back with a vengeance now.

Before River has a chance to come down from that second orgasm, I grab her thighs and yank her down from the counter onto her feet. She sways a little, looking surprised. Her lips part like she’s going to say something, but instead of giving her the chance, I spin her around and bend her over the counter, pushing her ass out.

It’s a fucking glorious view, her ass pert and perfect and her pussy still sopping wet from when I had my mouth on it.

My cock twitches hard, and I can’t ignore it anymore. I shove down my pants and boxers and grab my dick to line it up. Just the touch of my own hand is enough to have me hissing through my teeth, but I don’t let myself get distracted. I’m not going to be satisfied until I’m inside her.

So I do what I’ve been craving since the last time we fucked. I thrust my hips forward and bottom out inside her, feeling her wet heat envelop me like I belong there.

“Goddamn,” I groan, closing my eyes for just a second. “You feel so fucking good. So fucking tight. Like you were meant for this.”

River works her ass back, and I slam into her, meeting her in the middle with the sound of skin on skin. She gives a strangled moan, and I reach down and grab a handful of her ass, squeezing hard.

“Wanted you since you walked your perfect ass into our house,” I force out through gritted teeth. “Wanted to slam you up against a wall and fuck that attitude right out of you.”

“Fuck off,” she pants. “And I didn’twalkinto the house.”

Instinctively, I pull my hand back and spank her bare ass hard. Talking about her attitude made me feel like she needed a spanking, I guess.

I expect her to lash out, to tell me I’m an asshole or something, but she moans instead, going tighter around my cock.

That’s all I need to keep going.

I spank her harder, making sure she can really feel it. The kitchen echoes with the sound of my hand making contact with her ass, as well as the sound of my cock slamming into her wet pussy again and again.

The anger from before is still there, in the pit of my stomach. Being balls deep in her again makes me think about the other night at the gala, and how she made me feel like what we did was nothing. Like I could have been any asshole off the street that she could just walk away from.

It’s not a lie to say I wanted her from the moment I saw her. All flashing, defiant eyes with that silver hair and those tattoos. It isn’t just anyone who can stare down Gage with a gun, or talk back to Knox and Priest like it’s nothing.

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