Skirt (Ruthless Kings MC Book 5)

by K. L. Savage

  He deepens it, slashing his tongue between my lips. His confidence increases with every wave of his hips against mine, and soon he’s plowing his cock in and out of me like a seasoned pro. He’s hitting all the right places, sinking deeper with every stroke.

  Skirt reaches down and plays with my clit, and it’s too much. I sink my teeth into his shoulder, biting the flesh until the skin breaks. I rip my mouth away when my orgasm tears away at my consciousness, and my vision blackens.

  “Rohan!” I call out to him with every spasm of my walls gripping his cock.

  “I’m going to come,” he warns, kissing me as he plants himself as far as he can go with every spasm of his orgasm. He’s warm inside me, filling me to the rim. Skirt brings his mouth to mine, kissing me gently while we both try to catch our breaths.

  I don’t think I’ll ever fully breathe the same way again, not with how consuming Skirt is in every way, shape, and form. He suffocates me, yet at the same time, he brings me back to life.

  Chapter Twelve

  SKIRT

  I’m on fucking cloud nine.

  No, cloud one-hundred. Is that possible? No wonder blokes feel so much better after getting laid. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to go a day without being inside Dawn. No fucking way. I can’t even remember how many times we fucked last night. I was raw, and she was sore, but not even that stopped us.

  We can’t get enough of each other.

  Only one thing can bring me down today.

  I’m giving Reaper the cut I made from the fight. He isn’t going to be happy with me, but I’m willing to take the punishment because I have lead on Cohen since Badge can’t seem to find one.

  My phone buzzes in my hand, and I look down to see it’s a text from Maximo.

  Be here at seven tonight. Sharp.

  Fuck.

  I stare at the duffle bag in my hand, the one stuffed to the brim with cash, and I debate if I want to give it to him now.

  “I know what you’re up to,” Tongue chuckles darkly in a creepy corner.

  Always in a damn corner.

  “I don’t know what yer talking about.”

  “I followed you last night. Didn’t like the vibes you were giving off. I don’t like a liar.” Tongue steps forward from the shadow, and the blade he has in his hand shines. “Saw you fight.”

  “Tongue, what yer talking about. Ye have no idea what’s going on.”

  “I suggest you inform me,” Tongue sneers.

  It’s never good to be on Tongue’s bad side. The man is insane on a good day, on a bad? He is beyond reasoning with, beyond trying to convince. He only has one intent, and that’s to cut and kill.

  I’m about to open my mouth to answer him, but Reaper’s announcement silences me. “Church! Now!” he roars as loud as he can and slams the church door shut.

  Oh, shit. He’s furious.

  Something bad happened.

  “Saved by the bell,” Tongue growls, sliding the tip of his blade down my arm. It’s a slight touch, not usually enough to cut the skin, but since Tongue keeps his knives sharp, my skin parts on the surface and a trickle of blood flows out. “You better hope I don’t find out you’ve turned your back on the club, because if you have, I’m going to rip that Scottish tongue out of your mouth.” He slams his shoulder against me which causes his knife to dig deeper into my skin.

  Tongue finally pulls the blade away and wipes it on his jeans before stuffing it in his sheath. Fuck, the man scares the hell out of me. I rip my sleeve off my shirt and tie it around my arm to stop the bleeding. Tongue is always going the extra mile before he learns the truth. I should be glad the only thing he did was cut my arm.

  I’m glad he didn’t just reach in and cut my tongue out.

  All the men march into church and the cut-sluts are left alone in the main room. I wipe my forehead on my good sleeve and step inside, and the world stops moving for a minute when I see Maximo standing next to Reaper.

  Fuck. If Reaper finds out I’m fighting for Maximo before I tell him, the punishment will be severe for being dishonest.

  I lean against the wall and set the bag down next to me. Reaper is waiting for the rest of the men to enter before he begins. When the door closes, he smashes the gavel on the table and everyone quiets down.

  My stomach is in knots. I can’t believe Maximo is here. This cannot be good for me.

  Reaper pinches his eyes closed and rubs them. He seems older lately. He has silver hair around his temples and crow’s feet next to his eyes. This isn’t an easy job, and it has taken its toll. Being part of an MC means giving up your life of peace in exchange for turmoil, and I think our peace at the club is over. It has to be if Maximo is here.

  “Everyone, this is Maximo. New owner of Circus, Circus. Head of the Moretti Mafia.”

  “No shit. He’s Moretti’s family?” Tool asks, flipping his screwdriver between his fingers.

  Maximo gives a slight bow. “I am his brother. I hate to see my brother in the state he is in. All I can hope is that he pulls through.”

  “How do we know you aren’t full of shit?” Tongue drags each word out then stabs the table. “Moretti has been in that bed for a while now, and you’re just now coming around? Sounds like a bunch of bullshit.”

  “There were many things I had to take care of before I came to Vegas. Remember, my family is from Italy. That’s where I was before all this happened. I had to put someone else in charge there before coming here.”

  “Maximo has been repaying the money back we invested in Moretti’s casino before it blew up.” Reaper’s eyes land on me, and I can’t tell if he knows or not that I’m fighting behind his back. “He has news,” Reaper blows out a breath and starts to pace. “You tell them, Maximo, before my anger gets the best of me.”

  “Of course,” Maximo says and sprawls his hands out on the table. He always dresses in black, making his demonic features even darker. “We have a problem in our city. I’ve had my men keep a close ear to the ground. I know you don’t, partake in many illegal activities as I do and I respect that, so when I hear something disturbing, I know I can come to you. My men have told me there are two new MCs. They aren’t in Vegas, but they are on the outskirts of the city. Regardless, it isn’t good for an MC to encroach on another’s territory, especially without making themselves known.”

  Reaper grunts, and the rest of the guys bang their fists on the table.

  “Your President has informed me that you are looking for a man, a fighter, who might have kidnapped a child? I’ve heard they have been seen with one of the MCs.”

  “Ye’ve seen Aidan? Where? Tell us. I’ll go get him now.”

  Maximo’s eyes search for me and when they find me, they soften around the edges. “I do not know. I’m sorry. I’ve informed Reaper of my fighting ring, and that it is probably his best bet to find Cohen there, along with the other MCs. All are welcome as long as they bring cash.”

  “That’s where you come in, Skirt.” Reaper stops pacing and runs his hands through his hair, then twists his neck left and right, cracking the bone. “You’re going to fight for Maximo. You’re going to fight every damn fight until Cohen catches wind of it.”

  “Oh, I think he already has. He has taken down one Blackwood brother; I’m sure he would love to take down the other,” Maximo adds, and my brothers growl from the threat against me.

  “There’s something else,” Reaper says and rubs his hand over his scruff. “NOLA chapter called—”

  “God, can’t they leave us alone?” Tool gripes.

  “Shut up, Tool. I’m not in the mood for your bullshit,” Reaper cuts him off with an evil eye.

  “Yes, Prez,” Tool relents.

  “NOLA called me and told me they have had a large number of kids disappearing. There are new flyers of missing children appearing every day.”

  “Fuck.” Bullseye laces his fingers behind his head and leans back in the chair until he’s staring at the ceiling.

  “They think whatever is
happening, NOLA might be the hotspot, the epicenter of it all.”

  “Ye mean, Aidan can already be there, and we would have no idea. And that’s if Aidan is there. The tunnels for human trafficking go on all over the world. Fuck!” I kick an empty chair and feel completely helpless. I’m invested in this. If we get him back, he’s my kid too since I’m with his ma. I want him back. I already feel connected to Aidan in a way I can’t explain, and I want to say it’s because I’m falling hard for his ma.

  “Get it together, Skirt.” Reaper points the gavel at me, and his tone of voice has my back slamming against the wall. “You’re our chance at getting Cohen. I need you at your best. You need to fight.”

  “Aye, Prez. I’ll do whatever it takes.” Obviously. I’ve fought for my dead brother, for his revenge, but what’s more important than fighting for the living? A kid needs me. I’ll be killing two birds with one stone.

  Fight to avenge my brother.

  Fight to bring Aidan home before it’s too late.

  “We might have to go to NOLA. Everyone be ready. It will be a moment’s notice if we find out we’re going. I don’t want to hear any complaints.” Reaper cuts his eyes to Tool, and the screwdriver-wielding man stares at the table, ashamed. Tool has some apprehensions with the NOLA chapter, all because Seer freaked him out with his ‘sight’ ability.

  I’m a skeptic, but it’s near hard to deny since Seer helped with Juliette’s situation.

  “I’m obviously at your disposal. My brother wanted to be allies with you, and I want to extend that opportunity. You need anything, you let me know, and I will get it for you.” Maximo checks his watch and then his phone. “I need to leave, gentlemen. Reaper, I will see you tonight.”

  “Sure thing. Thanks again,” Reaper holds out his hand, and Maximo doesn’t hesitate to shake it. Maximo might be a shady guy, but I can’t say he isn’t honest. So far, he has been nothing but genuine. People can’t be that nice. He has to have another angle in all this.

  “Any information I come across, I’ll let you know.” Maximo leaves, and his goons push off the wall to follow him.

  Everyone lets out a breath when they hear the front door slam.

  “That man freaks me out.”

  “I know that’s right, brother.” Poodle holds up his fist, and Slingshot taps his knuckles.

  “Anything else that needs to be addressed now?” Reaper asks, eyeing every brother around the table.

  “I’ll keep an eye out at Kings’ Club. If anything seems off, I’ll be sure to let you know,” Tool says. Kings’ Club has been very profitable for the MC. It’s where most of our legal profits come from; that and the garage, which Braveheart has taken over since Tool now spends most of his time at the club.

  “Good, man. Okay, dismissed.” Reaper hits the gavel on the table, and my brothers file out. “Skirt, I want to talk to you for a second.”

  Fuck.

  “Good luck.” Tongue gives me a smug, crooked tilt of his lips as he shuts the door behind him. Crazy bastard. I swear, he wishes pain on everyone around him.

  Reaper and I stare at one another. It’s quiet. My heart races and makes blood rush in my ears. My cheeks heat. He fucking knows, and he’s waiting for me to say it. I swallow my fear and pick up the duffle bag, tossing it on the wooden table that has the Ruthless Kings logo in the middle of it. Reaper cocks a brow at me and laces his fingers in front of his face, creating a steeple with his index fingers as he presses them against his nose.

  “That supposed to mean something to me?” he asks.

  “Aye.”

  “Open it.”

  I walk around the table and lean over, gripping the zipper between my fingers and pull it down. Stacks of money are piled high. There has to be close to eighty-thousand there. “I fought for Maximo last night.”

  Reaper gives me a quick, sparing look before he pulls a pack of cigarettes from his cut pocket. He places a smoke between his mouth and lights it, as always. He’s smoking more and more these days. It’s only a matter of time before Sarah finds out. He leans back in the chair, throws his boots on the table, and blows out the smoke through his nostrils.

  I rub my hand over my face. This is torture. “I’ll accept any punishment for not telling ye and going behind yer back.” I yank off my shirt and kneel, preparing for his blade to slice through my skin.

  His boots pound on the floor and the chair rolls back as he stands. The smell of smoke comes closer, and his hand takes hold of my ear and yanks. “Get the hell up, and put your shirt on. I know you fought last night. Who do you think called Maximo and told him?”

  I grab my shirt and yank it over my head. “What do ye mean? How?”

  “Maximo and I are in on the fighting ring together. I miss getting my hands dirty. We both want the same thing—money—but we want the fights to be fair, nothing fishy. When he said he needed a fighter, I offered you, and I knew you’d take it. You’re just like Tongue needing to cut and Poodle needing to kill; you have to fight, and I knew you wouldn’t turn Maximo down. When I found out about Cohen, I knew fighting would be a way to draw him in. You’re his damn bait.”

  “Ye used me?”

  “Yep. Don’t you feel dirty?”

  “Little bit” I scratch my head, confused.

  “Get over it. We would have problems if you didn’t end up telling me, but I knew you would. You don’t let pride get in your way.”

  “Have you considered that I could lose a fight?”

  Reaper bores his eyes into mine, and he snags me by the cut. “No, and you better not lose because that’s the only way you’re going to get in that cage with Cohen. Regardless of the piece of shit human being he is, he’s one of the best fighters in the world. We need that kid back. I don’t fucking like it when people hurt kids, and I have a feeling your lady wants her son back and you want your lady happy. Am I right?”

  I tilt my chin down, submitting to the Prez.

  Losing is not an option.

  “Good. Now, go update Dawn. I’m sure she’s going to want to know there’s a little more hope now.”

  “Hope? About child sex trafficking? That will destroy her.”

  “So will knowing the truth too late. Tell her now, let her wrap her head around it. The sooner she knows, the better.” Reaper puts his cigarette out on the table and takes out four stacks of cash. “The rest is yours.”

  He pats me on the back as he leaves, and I’m left staring at money and too much information swirling in my head. The weight of this entire situation is on my shoulders, and the only way to get rid of it is to win.

  I’m not like my brother. I’m a good fighter, but I’m not great. “Conor, if ye can hear me right now, I really need ye help. I can’t do it alone. Dawn needs me, Aidan needs me, the club is depending on me. Send down some of that fighting ability that ye took with ye to the grave.” The black bag of cash taunts me, and the first thing I think of is buying a new bike for myself since my other one is in the junkyard behind King’s garage. It can only be used for parts now.

  Conor is silent, which I figured would be the case, but one can only hope that spirits and shit are real. I snatch the bag off the table and stomp my way toward the door. When I open it, Tongue is there, arms bracketing the way out.

  “Tongue, I’m not in the mood.”

  “I’m never in the mood. Some of the club is going with you tonight. I’m your bodyguard.”

  A bodyguard? At a fucking fight?

  If I’m lucky, I’ll be the one stopping Tongue before he kills someone. Great, now on top of everything, I have to fucking babysit.

  I’m only one man. There’s only so much I can do.

  Chapter Thirteen

  DAWN

  “I’m going to this fight,” I yell at Skirt when he dares to tell me I have to sit here on my ass, staring at the fucking wall, waiting for him and half the club to come back.

  “Ye can’t. I won’t be able to focus on the fight if I’m worried about ye. Please, just listen to me.” />
  “Aidan could be there.”

  “He won’t be there!” Skirt shouts back at me, and I flinch. I know he won’t hit me, but I can’t stop the impulse. “Lips…” He pulls my head toward him by gripping the side of my jaw, his thumb laying on my bottom lip. “I won’t ever hit ye. I don’t mean to scare ye, but what if Cohen is there and he takes ye from me? I only just found ye, Dawn. I can’t focus on finding ye and Aidan. Please.”

  I tangle myself in his embrace. I want to cry. “Skirt, I need to go. I’ll stay near Tongue or someone equivalent to him. I need to. Don’t take this from me. Please,” I beg.

  “No,” he says.

  I wrench away from his grasp and shove him. “I’m going to find a way there. Whether you like it or not.”

  “If ye go, I swear, Dawn, I’ll—”

  “You’ll what?” I hiss, pushing his chest again. “I’m going!” I scream until my voice breaks, and his chest rises and falls in heavy beats.

  He grabs the shoulders of my shirt and picks me up, tossing me on the couch. “Ye aren’t going! That’s fucking final.” He rips my shirt off and bites my nipple so hard tears spring to my eyes.

  I cry out, frustrated, angry, and turned on.

  “Tell me ye want go.”

  “No,” I say defiantly.

  “Yer a fucking headache, ye know that.”

  “I guess you haven’t met yourself because you’re a bigger pain in my ass than that damn cactus in yours!” I shout. “I’m going, and there is nothing you can do about it.”

  “Maybe this will shut you up then.” He flips up his kilt and pushes my head down toward his cock, but I push him away. He thinks I’m playing our game. Push and pull, shove and slap, but this is a hard limit for me. I don’t suck cock like this, not when Skirt is mad. I can’t do it.

  “Get off me!” I roll away from him, and he stares at me with regretful eyes.

  “Shite, I’m sorry, Dawn.” 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.