Tongue (RUTHLESS KINGS MC™ (A RUTHLESS UNDERWORLD NOVEL) Book 8)

by K. L. Savage

  Some people would say it is sick to be so entranced by someone, but I call it love.

  I pick her up by the thick meat of her ass and plop her on the counter. Pushing her legs apart, I settle between the space and get comfortable because I’m going to fucking live here. I break the kiss, moving my lips down her neck and growl in satisfaction when I see the pink bruise created by me.

  I lick it, and she tosses her head back, moaning my name, “Wayne.” My real name. I love that she uses it when she’s turned on. It makes me feel different when I’m with her instead of the killer I am every day.

  “You sure I didn’t hurt you?” she hisses when I place my hand on her knee. I glance down and see the black and blue bruise swelling her knee. That isn’t from me.

  Fuck. How could I forget? “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been so rough with you last night, not when you’re healing from the fall.”

  Daphne lifts her dress up and slides her arms free from the straps. Her red nipples tighten when the air hits them, and I lick my lips, wanting a taste. Her finger pop the button of my jeans then pulls the zipper down. “You better be rough with me because if you aren’t, I’ll find someone who will be.”

  The thought of someone else touching her body, another man being in her tight cunt, has me seeing red. I pick her up, spin her around, and slam her against the mirror hanging on the wall. Small pieces crack and fracture while she gasps, her cheek digging into the glass. I keep a tight hold between the space where her neck and shoulder meet, fish out my cock, and slam home. “Don’t ever threaten me again. I am everything you need.”

  “Yes, you’re everything,” she replies as I slide out, only to punch forward again.

  “I would kill them,” I warn in a hushed, vile tone against her ear. “I would kill them, bathe you in their blood, then I’d fuck you and show you who owns you.” I press her head against the glass harder, watching the cracks spread and grow along the mirror, then I yank her back and our eyes meet in our reflection. Our faces are broken from the imperfect mirror but letting us view how perfect we are together.

  It’s fitting.

  My shattered soul and her shattered mind are one.

  Her hands fall on either side of the gold frame as I fuck her.

  “Do I need to carve my name into your skin for you to understand that no one else will exist for you?” I peer down where we are joined, and her honey has my cock shining to the high heavens. It’s about the only thing holy between us because the only halo that exists is the one between her legs.

  The wide tip of me lodges into her right before the flared crown slips free. She screams when I fill her up again with a sharp thrust, then slip out again.

  “Yes,” she hisses. “Mark me.” She ruts her ass against me, and I groan, letting my head roll over my shoulders as she uses me, trying to fit every inch inside her, but she can’t.

  I’m too fucking big for her small tight cunt.

  Flipping her around, I hook her legs over my waist, my fingers brushing the soft skin of her thighs as I grab hold.

  “Yes, Wayne. Yes, harder. More. I want more.”

  I slam her against the mirror, and she cries out, digging her nails into the muscles of my shoulders until the skin breaks. Glass falls onto the floor behind her and a few diamond-shaped pieces fall from above, landing on her tits.

  Picking her up, I slam her against it again and blood smears across the mirror just as her pussy tightens around me, clenching as she comes from the pain. “Wayne! Oh, god. Yes.”

  My head falls to her left breast, and I suck the beaded candy between my lips, then bite down causing her to cry out again. Something demented comes to mind as I’m sucking on her tits. What if I can get her pregnant? What if I can bind her to me in every way? I can be a good father. I’ll never do what my uncle did to me. I’ll protect what is mine and I’ll love them in the only way I know how.

  Intensely.

  She smells like sweat, sex, and sin. Speeding up my thrusts, I power drill her with every ounce of strength I possess. My orgasm hits me, squirting out of my cock in thick jets, painting her womb with my seed. I hold her close to me, thrusting with every rope of come leaving my body and pushing it further inside her.

  “Mine,” I gravel, raking my teeth across her chest.

  “Yours.” She claws her nails down my back and comes again. I imagine her spasms forcing my cum deeper into her body, so her womb drinks me up until the thirst for my children is satisfied.

  I sag against her, my body shaking from the intensity of our union. Her legs are trembling too, and I ease her off the mirror and the release of pressure has more glass cascading to the floor. I set her on the counter, cock still plunged deep, and go to a mirror that isn’t broken.

  Three pieces of glass are embedded along her back. Two near her right shoulder and one on her lower back. I pluck one out and toss it on the ground and she moans. “You like that?” I ask her, wanting to file the information away for later.

  “Love it,” she slurs, drunkenly from the post-orgasmic high.

  I yank the second one out and she falls against my chest, gasping for air. “Wayne, oh god, I’m going to come again.” Her pussy flexes around me, plumping the semi-hard shaft to full mast in a second.

  There’s only one piece of glass left and it’s the biggest one. I pinch my fingers around it and a grotesque squishing noise of her flesh trying to hug onto the shard has my cock flexing, pouring another around of come into her needy body.

  “Wayne,” she gasps, scratching a row of love marks down my arms, ruining the expensive tattoos as she orgasms.

  If I had known I would have met her, I wouldn’t have gotten any tattoos. I would have let Daphne scar me in any way she liked.

  I smash my lips on her again, sucking in the air from her lungs to fill mine. Her glasses are crooked, and there’s a cut on her lip, probably from a piece of glass, and I suck the plump flesh into my mouth to swallow the blood.

  Delicious.

  “Wow. I can’t feel my legs,” she giggles.

  I lock my eyes on her pussy, combing my fingers through the brown tuft of hair and watch as I pull out of her. A white gush of cream leaves her tight, swollen hole and drips down to her asshole. I don’t like that I’m spilling out of her, so I thrust inside again, and she moans. My fingers brush against her puckered star, and she inhales a sharp breath. Would I be interested in owning her there? Yes. I want my come in every hole, so she is ruined and too fucked up for anyone else.

  Selfish? Wrong?

  Yes.

  I don’t care.

  The toxins in my heart have wrapped their venom around her, choosing her as mine and killing any hope in her heart that wanted normal.

  She’s apart of my poison now.

  “You have no idea how much I want to carve my name into your skin.” I grab the knife I made myself, teasing the pointed black tungsten against her creamy skin. Her wild heart pumps with so much intensity, it bounces the blade. Daphne’s skin gives and turns a shade lighter as I press, but not hard enough to puncture.

  Pity.

  “As long as I can do it to you too, you have a deal.” Daphne pushes her chest out and a tiny droplet of blood pebbles, seducing my taste buds.

  And I’m suddenly dying of thirst.

  The urge to scar her skin with my property patch overwhelms me. Right as I’m about to drag the knife across her skin, a knock at the door interrupts me. I sling the blade through the air, and it lands on the door with a hard thud.

  “You guys better be ready in five minutes,” Maximo yells inside the room as he cracks the door open.

  I wish the knife would have landed between his damn eyes. The next one will if he takes another step into the room. Daphne isn’t decent. Her tits are out, her underwear are ripped to pieces, and my cock is nestled insider her hot cunt still. “Don’t move another muscle, Maximo. I’ll kill you.”

  “I swear to god, you Kings find a pretty piece of forever ass and won’t stop fucki
ng. I have a business to run. Zip your dick up, cut that fucking hair, and make me some goddamn money!” He slams the door, and Daphne’s laugh is music to my ears as she lays her head against my shoulder.

  “I guess we should get going. The sooner we do this—” she leans away from me, and her fingers play with the uneven strands of my hair “—the sooner you can make me your wife, if you want. If you’re still wanting that…” She clears her throat, and her uncertainty about us makes me wish I had the time to show her.

  “I want nothing more,” I say, taking the edges of her jaw in my palms. “I would have made you mine the moment I saw you, but I convinced myself you were better off without me. It’s why I watched you from the corners.”

  “I felt you,” she whispers, leaning into my touch. I can’t believe I have someone who actually wants to feel me.

  “I know because I felt you too.” I kiss her again and do the one thing I don’t want to do; I slide out of her warmth. She has no idea just how much I felt for her—feel—for her. My love for her is bigger than the space that holds the stars above us, brighter than the moon, and hotter than the sun. She’s inside my veins. She lives in me.

  I can’t be without her now that I’ve had her. I can’t live that way. I’m an obsessive person. I have to have the compulsion that follows.

  I have an obsession with killing.

  My compulsion is to cut out tongues.

  Daphne is my compulsion.

  I zip up my pants, then button them, and bend down to pick up the black satin panties I ripped off her. I dangle the scrap in front of her face as she slips her arms through the thin straps of her dress. She reaches for the panties, and I bundle them in my fist, stuff them under my nose, and inhale.

  “These are mine, Comet,” I say and rub them over my face, letting her scent soak into my skin so I can smell the sweet perfume of her pussy on my face while I kill. Exhaling and buzzed from her scent, I stuff her panties into my pocket.

  “That’s fine. Easier access, right?” she flirts, jumping down from the counter, and taking my shirt off the back of the chair. I take it from her, brushing our fingers together to get another jolt of electricity, and pull the oversized t-shirt over her head.

  Damn, it covers her entire body.

  I never want her to wear anything of hers again. Only my shirts.

  Fuck, I really do want to ruin her in the worst of ways.

  She opens the drawer and finds a pair of clippers. “Ready?” she presses the button and the clippers buzz, mimicking the bees stinging my bones as I stare at her.

  Hell no I’m not ready.

  I want to stay in this room with her for the rest of time. When I think about happiness, I think about being alone with Daphne. That’s peace.

  Running my fingers through my chopped mess of hair, I sit down in the chair and stare at her through the mirror. “Do your worst,” I say, gripping the armrests. I’m not one that cuts my hair. It’s how it got so long in the first place.

  “When it comes to you, I’ll only ever do my best.”

  The first inch of hair falls to my lap and it’s liberating. The past is disintegrating, and the future has come, and her name is Daphne.

  My Comet.

  Have you ever seen someone that takes your breath away and you stare because they are so beautiful, you wonder how they exist?

  That’s how I feel right now. I can’t keep my eyes of Tongue as we walk down the hallway toward the casino again. He is power, strength, fear, and intimidation rolled into one. His height, his build, his tattoos, his menacing snarl that is permanent on his face creates a threatening package I can’t get enough of.

  Yes, he is all of those things, but there is something else, one detail no one will know about him except me.

  The snarl on his face doesn’t exist when he watches me. He is every terrifying word a person can think of, but he loves madly, and he has set his instability on me.

  I love it.

  I’m sure people look at us and see a million reasons why we can’t be together. I’m so much more different on the outside than he is, but on the inside? He answers every call my body has. Maybe it’s wrong to some, but he is right to me.

  And that is all that matters.

  “You’re going to make me a ton of money,” Maximo says with so much glee he nearly bounces on his heels as he walks.

  Tongue slides his hand into mine, his palm swallowing me from its massive size, and holds on tight as we walk. Not a single part of me is worried about Tongue entering the ring. I have no doubt he is going to win. No one stands a chance against him.

  He’s vile.

  Even the Devil wouldn’t dare to challenge this level of sin he has created.

  As Maximo opens the door that leads into the main casino where all of the pretty women are dressed to the nines, and the men are wearing black-tie suits buying expensive drinks, they all turn their heads to stare at me. My shirt might be cheap, but the man it belongs to could kill their men with a snap of a finger.

  Who needs money when I already have power?

  I feel like I’m on top of the world and better than them when my hand is in Tongue’s.

  Until my knee gives out.

  I almost fall and slam it against the floor again, but Tongue is there, lifting me into his arms without effort or breaking a sweat.

  “You need to rest,” Tongue says, and his chest vibrates from the whiskey notes in his voice. “Because I plan on doing more to that delicious body.” He sucks my earlobe into his mouth, and my head falls onto his shoulder, an arousing sigh escaping me.

  “You’re gaining an audience,” Maximo states, pressing the button to the elevator.

  The elevator doors ding and slide open. Maximo is the first one to enter, then Tongue, then the goons. I tilt my head to the left giving Tongue the access he needs to kiss me.

  “What the fuck do they put in the water over at the clubhouse?” Maximo fixes the gold cufflink attached to his sleeves, and his initials are etched in the elegant gold. “I need to get me some,” he mutters under his breath, but no one hears him but me.

  I act like I don’t because I value my life, and I know he wouldn’t be happy if he caught me staring at him. Maximo slides his card over a black scanner and the lights turn from green to red as we descend. After we pass the basement, the elevator doesn’t give the floor or a hint of where we are going. We come to a smooth stop and the doors open, revealing a dark, poorly lit place.

  Tongue must feel right at home because he hums in appreciation, like a cat purring when it’s relaxed.

  I thought the fighting ring would be fancier, but it’s bare-bones and basic. The hallway leading to the ring is narrow and the floor is dirt. When we get to the main room, it’s reminds me of a big garage since there is metal door leading outside where people are coming in and out of. The ring itself is fenced and there are bleachers on either side.

  Above the ring, there is a dull yellow light and to the right is a stage with a microphone. I’m going to assume that is where Moretti stays since a throne-like chair is in the middle. Only a man in charge would sit in that chair. It’s painted gold and the cushions are a dark red, like blood. I read somewhere red is a power color. If so, Maximo and Tongue are a lot alike.

  Conversation is running rampant around us, so loud it’s nearly giving me a headache. Smoke clings to the ceiling, similar to rainclouds and they block the light like the moon does the sun during an eclipse.

  “She can sit in my chair since she is injured, Tongue. I will not let a lady suffer.” Maximo holds out his hand, wanting me to take it so he can help me from Tongue’s arms.

  Tongue doesn’t seem to like that idea, so he climbs up the steps to the stage and places me gently on the chair. He pushes my hair behind my ears, and I run my fingers through the new haircut we gave him. The pieces are still long, slightly curling around his nape, keeping it shaggy with a careless appeal.

  He smashes his mouth against mine, kissing me senseless in fr
ont of everyone. We break apart, and he lays his forehead against mine. “Every kill is for you,” he says.

  “For us,” I correct him.

  “Okay, five fights. That’s the deal. You have to win, or the deal is off, and I call your Prez and tell him all the dirty details.”

  Tongue straightens and his abs flex. His tattoos come to life, moving and dancing over the natural detailing of his body. There is one spot that is bare and it’s right over his heart. It’s easy to assume why, but I wonder if he was waiting for something special.

  “I won’t even break a sweat by the time the last one falls,” Tongue says, then jumps on the fence and climbs up it like a monkey. When he gets to the top, he stares at me over his shoulder, winks, and jumps ten feet to the ground.

  Everyone falls silent when the thunderous boom shakes the floor from Tongue’s weight He looks like a superhero as he drags his fist across the dirt. A sandstorm dances around him as he straightens to his impressive height.

  He is a furious storm ready to unleash catastrophe.

  I don’t feel bad for whoever gets in the ring with him because whoever chooses to go against him is a dumbass.

  “What are you going to do if your psychopath dies?” Maximo asks, leaning against the throne. He dips into his pocket and pulls out two cigars. He hands me one.

  I shake my head. “No, thank you. And he isn’t going to die.”

  “What if he does?”

  “He won’t,” I snip, annoyed that Maximo is testing me.

  “If he does, you’re more than welcome to stay with me. I’ll give you all the riches. Your beauty deserves to be dripping in all the diamonds. Your body deserves to be bathed in cash and lavish oils.” Maximo is closer now, his lips almost brushing against my ear, and I lean away.