Double Down: A Bedlam Butchers MC Romance (The Motorcycle Clubs Book 12) (3 page)

Muscle chuckles and gives my ass a quick slap and jiggles it. “Feel free to tell me no if you don’t want me.”

Not want him? Is he insane? He’s utterly gorgeous, every ounce of him hard and attractive. I never thought a guy as hot as him would give a girl like me the time of day, but he makes me feel cherished and sexy constantly. Both him and Beast do. I smooth my hands over his chest, feeling his rock-hard pectorals under his white t-shirt and the cut he’s wearing. “I want to.”

“Well, it sounds like it is my day today,” Muscle says, flashing me a cocky grin that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

I smile at him, then peek over at Beast to see if he’s going to join in on the fun or if he’s going to watch. He wiggles his dark, heavy eyebrows at me, then crosses his arms and leans on the door.

He’s going to watch me suck Muscle, then. My pussy squeezes tight around the vibrator again, aroused at the thought. Beast likes to watch almost as much as he likes to participate. Maybe more. That means I need to put on a bit of a show so he can have just as much pleasure as Muscle gets out of this. So I smile at him and give my pale hair a little flip, arching my back so my breasts thrust out and my ass does, too. And then I turn and look back at Muscle expectantly.

Muscle gives my ass another squeeze and then releases me, turning to the table in the center of the small room. There’s four chairs at it, and he grabs one, flips it around, and sits down, his legs spread wide and arrogant. It’s like he’s daring me.

And this is not the kind of dare I’m about to back down on.

I kneel between Muscle’s legs, making sure to thrust my ass out as I do.

“You gonna suck me, Shy-girl?” Muscle asks, and brushes his hand along my cheek in a caress. “That’s fucking sexy. I love it when you take charge.”

“Mmhmm,” I say with a little hum in my throat. I’m already reaching for his zipper, eager for him. I free Muscle’s cock from his pants, and I’m not surprised to see he’s completely hard already, his length straining. I lightly trail my fingers over him, then circle the head with my fingertips. It’s a deliberate tease, and I wonder how long he’s going to let me just pet and stroke him before he starts demanding more.

Because while I’m theoretically in charge right now, I love it when they tell me what to do in bed. I’m still pretty inexperienced - two weeks ago I was a virgin, and even though I’ve got two men now, I still feel as if there’s so much to learn. I’m eager to soak up everything they’ll show me, because I love giving my men pleasure.

So I glide my fingers up and down over his cock, in small, butterfly-light touches. There’s so much to enjoy in touching Muscle’s scorching hot flesh - the rigid length underneath velvet-soft skin. The scent of him, more prominent now that he’s inches from my mouth. The beads of pre-cum appearing on the head of his cock that are just begging for my tongue.

“Lick him,” Beast says from his spot at the door. “On his cock-head. Just a tease.”

I give a soft little moan at his command. Is Beast going to take charge of things? Tell me how to suck Muscle’s cock? Oh God, that is incredibly sexy.

Before I can, though, Muscle grabs his chair, changes the angle, and sits back down again. I’m confused for a split second, and then I realize it’s so Beast can watch my mouth work from his vantage point. Again, my thighs press together. I lean in and press my fists to Muscle’s thighs and give the head of his cock a quick, tentative lick. A few beads of cum touch my tongue and they taste salty, musky. Delicious.

Muscle’s hand goes to my hair and he clenches a handful of it. He’s holding me to his cock. “Keep licking,” he tells me, voice raw with need. “More tongue.”

I do as he asks, giving my ass a little wiggle as I do. My nipples are hard and aching, and I scrape them against his jeans-clad legs as I squirm, sliding the head of his cock over my tongue. I don’t use the tip of my tongue; it doesn’t seem like it’ll cover enough area. Instead, I take him on the flat of my tongue and rub up and down against his cock-head, dragging his cock back and forth over the surface.

He groans and his head tilts back, eyes closing. “Fuck yeah, just like that.”

I want to touch him, too, so I circle one hand around his length and squeeze, all the while tonguing the crown, feeling the ridge around the head with my tongue, the divot in the center. I’m getting aroused all over again just by touching him, by the way he responds, the hand in my hair.

Then, something in me jumps, and the vibrator comes to life again.

I moan hard, my eyes closing. Oh, God. Earlier, each time it had turned on, it had been unwanted. Almost embarrassing. Now, in private? It immediately ratcheted up what I was feeling. My breasts ache in time with my pussy, and I whimper and flex my hips, trying to bear down on it like it’s a cock.

“Take him deeper into your mouth,” Beast says, and I realize he’s moved a lot closer. He’s no longer at the door. Instead, I feel his hand on my ass, feel him flipping up my skirt. All the while, the vibe’s going off inside me, a thrumming, insistent sensation that’s making me insane with lust.

I do as he instructs, sucking Muscle’s cock deep. I push down on it, letting it plunge against my tongue, into the back of my throat. Immediately, I gag. I’ve taken too much, and I pull back, coughing. I’m embarrassed, but Muscle only groans and his hand tightens in my hair. “Again,” he says. So I do. He begins to thrust, small, little circling motions with his hips that make it feel like he’s fucking my mouth with his cock.

And all the while, my skirt’s flipped up and the vibe’s going off. I’m tensing, waiting for Beast to touch me. Waiting for something to happen. I know he’s back there. I’m dying for him to add something to this. For him to participate.

His hand smooths along my panties and I moan around Muscle’s cock. I need him to touch me. I’m so wet, so hungry for him to be seated deep inside me, filling me up. I want to beg for it, but I only whimper my need, a soft little pleading sound.

“Fuck, you’re so goddamn hot, Shy-girl. Love the way you take my cock,” Muscle says, his eyes still closed with pleasure. “You’re hungry for it, aren’t you?”

I moan again. His filthy words are making me even more aroused. I feel my pulse throb right at my clit, and my hips jerk in response.

Suddenly, Beast tugs down my panties, exposing my ass as I kneel. Yes, I think, and automatically spread my legs wider as he eases my panties to my knees. They’re stretched to the limit, but I don’t care as long as I get some relief for my poor, throbbing, needy pussy. I want him to remove the vibrating egg and switch it out with his cock. That’s what I need.

I feel him tug on the string that’s holding the egg in place and I tense, waiting. Hoping.

He pulls it out almost all the way…then begins to work it in and out of me like it’s a cock. I moan and shudder, letting Muscle’s cock slide from my mouth. I can’t concentrate on it and on the vibrator.

Muscle chuckles, though. “Damn, she likes that.”

“She does,” Beast agrees, pushing the egg back and forth, circling it and then shoving it deep with his finger only to drag it back out again. “I can feel her quivering from here, and she’s wet as hell.”

I moan again and rub my face against Muscle’s hard length, trying to lick it. I can’t concentrate. I’m so close to coming that I’m losing control.

He takes over, though. Guiding his cock with his hand, he rubs the head against my open mouth, teasing it along my lips as Beast continues to fuck me with the vibrator. I’m so aroused that my entire body jolts reflexively with each thrust of it, and my whimpers are turning into keening.

Then I’m coming, my pussy squeezing down on the vibrating egg, losing my mind as it wrings a rough, endless orgasm from me. I feel worn out by the time it’s done, panting and exhausted, but I want Muscle to come too.

The vibe turns off and I feel a sense of sheer relief as Beast removes it. I feel a little curiously hollow, too, but now I can concentrate at least. I immediately return to Muscle’s cock, cupping the length and taking it into my mouth and beginning to deep-throat it.

“Fuck yeah,” he murmurs, and his hand goes to my hair again. Then, he’s pushing my head against his cock, helping my head bob along his length as he fucks my mouth. He’s pushing deeper with every stroke, until I feel him hitting the back of my throat, going so far in that I’m surprised I don’t gag again. Instead, I try to relax my jaw and take him, because I want him to come.

It doesn’t take long before I feel a spurt in the back of my throat. Then, he pulls back and liquid heat fills my mouth. I swallow his load, taking everything he gives me, my gaze on him because I like to see that moment of release on his face. It’s one of the few times he becomes truly vulnerable, and like a flash, it’s always gone too soon.

His fingers caress my cheek thoughtfully, and then he gives a heavy, gusty sigh and tilts his head back. “I needed that.”

I give his cock one last playful lick, then turn to Beast hopefully. Does he want the same attention I just gave Muscle? But he shakes his head. “Later. Let’s go home so I can fuck you proper.”

Sounds good to me.

• • •

When we get home, both men take turns fucking me until we’re all three exhausted and limp. I forget about any sort of troubles until Muscle gets up to head for a shower post-sex, and Beast pulls me against him. “Listen to me, Shy. Something’s bothering Muscle, and I want you to be careful around him, okay?”

I roll over in bed and burrow against Beast’s big, delicious chest. Muscle has a perfect physique, but Beast is built like a massive slab of rock. Unyielding granite. You wouldn’t think it’d be fun to cuddle against, but you’d be wrong. There’s something about a mean, tough guy that’s built like that who likes to hold you close. I crave it like some women crave chocolate. But his words are giving me cause for concern. “What do you mean, be careful around him?”

He brushes a piece of hair off of my sweaty face. “Just that. I told you before that shit messed him up when he was in the war. Sometimes it comes back to haunt him.”

I nod. I’ve seen the nightmares that Muscle gets. I know there’s a lot of misery locked inside his head that he never shares.

“Sometimes he’s bad, and sometimes it’s worse. Just…watch him. That’s all. And watch yourself.”

“He wouldn’t hurt me,” I say loyally. I adore Muscle and all his flaws. I’ve got several of my own.

But Beast only looks thoughtful. “He wouldn’t intentionally, no.”

And that makes me wonder, too. I’m about to ask when Muscle returns, a towel slung low on his hips. “Who’s next for the shower?”

“Me,” Beast says. I figure that’s the end of that, but Beast drags me into his arms and throws me over his shoulder. I squeal as he squeezes my ass and then I forget all about secret conversations as he takes me into the shower and we soap each other up.

MUSCLE

It can’t be Bernie. Can’t be.

I try to sleep, to push away the bad memories that seem to flood my mind every waking moment. Shy’s tucked against my side, all trusting, and Beast is snoring on the other side of her. We’ve started piling in bed together, all three of us, and normally I’m cool with it as long as the streams don’t cross and all (I don’t swing that way) but this puts me sandwiched between a sleeping girl and the wall.

And tonight, I feel trapped.

Sweat breaks out on my forehead and I try to calm. All that bad shit’s past tense. It shouldn’t fuck me up now.

But the moment I drift off to sleep, I know it’ll all be there waiting for me. The rat-a-tat-tat of assault rifles in the distance. The screams of dying civilians as we surge forward. Of children strapped with IEDs who wander into camp, dark eyes pleading for help even as they know they’re about to die.

“You think you’re ever gonna get to go home again and just be, yanno, fucking normal?”
I hear Bernie’s voice in my head.
“That you won’t see faces when you go to sleep at night? That you won’t wonder if we’re doing the right thing? All for a fucking stooge’s salary?”

“I ain’t bothered,”
I told him then.

We used to watch wrestling in downtime. Play cards, and watch stupid shit on TV. Out in Afghanistan, there wasn’t much to do other than that. Bernie was a big fucking wrestling fan. Japanese wrestling, Mexican wrestling, American wrestling. Didn’t matter - he loved ‘em all. Knew all the names, the stats, could talk about finishing moves and who was a babyface this year and who was a heel. His mom would record wrestling Pay-Per-Views and send the discs to us so we’d have something to watch. Told me all about something called kayfabe. That the wrestlers would pretend a certain lifestyle or attitude to go with their character, and they were always ‘in’ kayfabe around fans. Some would get reality confused with the ring stories and be unable to leave the wrestling persona behind.

Sometimes that’s what this feels like to me. Like I’m all fucked up and the Muscle the world knows is nothing but kayfabe.

“Why’s there a kid in camp?” Bernie looks up from his cards, the cigarette in his mouth nearly falling from his lip.

I take a drag on my own cigarette. “It’s just a fucking kid. Who the fuck cares. Deal already.” There’s always a local or two wandering through camp. Sometimes they try to sell us shit. Sometimes they try to sell us their daughters. It’s always a damn uncomfortable situation and I’m sick of it. I’m sick of the heat, the war, fucking all of it. And I’m down fifty bucks tonight, which pisses me off. I glance over and sure enough, there’s a kid on the edge of camp, looking lost and terrified. And I do not want to deal with this shit right now. I’ve got two kings in my hand and twenty dollars on the table in chips.

Mike gets up from the table. “Maybe we should see if he wants something. Give him a candy bar or some shit.”

I roll my eyes at Mike, because he’s always such a fucking do-gooder, and share a smirk with Bernie. “Do what you want. I’m gonna fucking play cards.” I tell Mike, and peek at his cards. Three aces. Fuck. That ass needs to fold. I nod at Bernie. “Just deal already.”

Bernie slaps a card down in front of me, and in front of Mike’s empty seat, then gives himself the final card. I look at the card in my hand. Joker. Well, well.

The camp’s really fucking silent. A pause seems to go on forever, hanging in the air. I wipe sweat off my brow, because it’s a jillion fucking degrees here.

“Holy shit,” Mike breathes.

I look over. He’s got his hands covering his mouth and stares at the kid.

The little boy’s got such sad brown eyes. I’ve never seen anything like it. He holds his grubby jacket open, and as he does, I see wires and clay strapped to his chest.

A bomb. Someone’s wired the kid and sent him to camp.

Everything explodes. The world turns into fire and screams.

I press a hand to my forehead, willing the visions to go away. I don’t think I’ll ever sleep well again.

• • •

The next morning, I offer to drive Shy around town so she can put in a few job applications. She wants to work because she hates sitting around the house, but it’s our fault she lost her job at the Taco Shack. Not that it was a fucking amazing job anyhow - she was making minimum wage there. But she wants another job so she can contribute, so I drive her from store to store so she can pick up a few applications. She’s probably not going to get any of these jobs if they remember she arrived on the back of a Harley, but fuck it, if it makes her happy, it makes me happy.

We pass by a pawn shop and it gets me to thinking. I turn my bike around at the next street, do a U-turn, and then head in the opposite direction of home.

Shy notices, too. Her arms give a little questioning squeeze to my stomach.

I turn my head sideways. “Gonna stop somewhere and get a snack if that’s all right.”

“Sounds good,” she says. I can’t see her face because the helmet blocks it, but I imagine it’s all soft trusting eyes and a smile.

Which just makes me feel like even more shit. Like I’m worthy of her smiles.

We pull off at a mom and pop donut shop that’s in a seedy part of town. Shy giggles at the sight of it, a sweet sound. “Donuts? At noon?”

I’m barely paying attention, though. My gaze is on the pawn shop across the street. There are bars on the windows and no cars parked in front. It looks unassuming. Inconspicuous. All sorts of things hide their true colors under a bland front, though. “See if they have some breakfast burritos left,” I tell her with a kiss to her head as I hand her my wallet. “And a few bear claws. And some milk.”

“Anything else?” She asks in a sassy voice as she slides off the back of the Harley and undoes the strap under her chin.

“Something with chocolate,” I tell her. Then I swat her ass as she saunters to the curb. “I’ll be there in a few.”

She gives me a thumbs up and heads into the tiny store, and I see the flash of her property patch disappear inside before I get off my bike. I remove my colors - even though it fucking kills me - because I’m going incognito. The moment Bernie - if it is him - sees Butcher patches, he’ll shut down. And I want to talk to him.

So I wait until Shy is inside at the counter, and then I cross the street to the pawn shop. A bell on the door rings as I enter, but no one comes out just yet. The store’s empty, and it’s a tiny hole in the wall sort of place. There’s old guitars on the walls, some rims, a bunch of TVs along a wall, and glass cases in front. I peer into the first case to make it seem like I’m shopping. Gold jewelry and grenades. Welp. That’s…random. There’s a gold necklace with a glittery S on it, and I decide to buy it for Shy. Maybe that’ll coax a smile out of her, since she’s been looking a bit sad lately.

“Muscle?” A familiar voice asks, and ice goes down my throat. I recognize that raspy sonofabitch’s drawl, even though it’s been at least three years.

I look up from the glass case and pretend surprise at the sight of Bernie. “Holy shit, my man,” I say, raising a hand so he can high five it and clasp it in greeting. “How are ya?”

He slaps my hand and gives me a bro-hug. “Fucking hell. I’m fine! Had no idea you were in town. I thought you went to Texas after you got out.”

I had, for all of a hot month before I couldn’t take it any longer. I’d retreated to New Mexico, and Duke City. Here, I’d hooked up with the Bedlam Butchers, met my buddy Beast, and the rest was history. Texas was just a bad memory. Had a lot of those.

Bernie looks good. Well, relatively speaking. He was always a wiry guy, and he’s thinner than he was before. Tanned. His hair’s dirty and he’s got a scruffy beard, and is wearing a shirt with oil stains on it. He’s got a rag in his back pocket, too, that makes me wonder what he was doing before he headed out.

I nod at him. “Texas didn’t suit me. Headed west. Met up with some friends. Didn’t know you were here.”

He grins, showing the gap in his teeth I’d forgotten. “Family said business was good here, so here I am.”

That makes me go cold. “Business?” I feign interest in the grubby pawn shop. “This yours?”

“Partly,” he says, then breaks out in another grin and slaps my shoulder. “You talk to any of the boys still?”

“From the platoon? Nah.” I try to stay casual about it. Don’t want him to know that every time I see anything military, it triggers all kinds of fucked up shit in my head.

Why’s there a kid in camp?

It’s just a fucking kid. Who the fuck cares. Deal the fucking cards already.

Maybe we should see if he wants something. Give him a candy bar or some shit.

Do what you want. I’m gonna fucking play cards. Just deal already.

A pause.

Holy shit.

Sad brown eyes.

Explosions. Screams.

I blink repeatedly. Present. Need to stay in the present.

He slaps my arm and then goes back behind the counter. “I don’t keep in touch either,” he says. “Bad memories.”

No shit.

“Glad I got out when I did,” he says, putting a cigarette between his lips and then lighting it. “You want a smoke?”

“I quit,” I tell him and lean on the glass cabinets. “Quit as soon as I got out.” Fucking hate the smell of ash now. Reminds me of too many other things. “Gym’s my drug of choice now.”

“You look pumped,” he says, then nods at the counter. “See something you like there? I’ll give ya a military discount for old friends.”

“Necklace there,” I say, pointing at the glass. “The one with the S on it.”

He gives me a contemplative look. “It’s a chick necklace.”

“It’s for a chick.”

“You got a lady?” He chuckles. “Holy shit. Never thought I’d see you settle down. Didn’t you like tag teaming ‘em?”

Still do, actually. I force a friendly grin to my face, hiding the turmoil inside. Kayfabe, Muscle. Kayfabe. “I have a girl,” I tell him. “Not really settled down. I’m not the type. What about you?”

If he says he’s got a family and little kids at home, I’ll be fucking sick to my stomach right here. Right now.

Holy shit.

Sad brown eyes.

Explosions. Screams.

“Me? Naaaaah,” Bernie says, and takes another drag on his cigarette. “Got other things on my mind other than women. Just trying to make a few bucks right now. Keep my head above water.”

I nod. I take the necklace and examine it as he hands it to me. The relief in my gut is palpable, but I’m still smiling like a fucking idiot. “How much for the necklace?”

Bernie gestures. “On the house for an old friend.”

Goddamn it, why’s he being so fucking nice. I go to pull out my wallet, then wince. Shy’s got it, probably buying up half the donut shop for me. “You don’t have to do that, man.”

“Sure I do,” he says, just looking smiling and so fucking happy to see an old war buddy. “Just promise to bring your girl around sometime. We’ve got a lot of jewelry. Might see more she likes. And we can knock back a beer or two. Catch up on shit.”

I nod and take the necklace, pocketing it. We say some more shit, but there’s a ringing in my ears. I’m on autopilot, total kayfabe. We joke for a few moments more, then I make an excuse about getting back to work. We part and I head out of the store and cross the street. By the time I make it back to my bike, I’m in a haze. I lean over and puke my guts up next to the back wheel.

Why’s there a kid in camp?

It’s just a fucking kid. Who the fuck cares.

Explosions. Screams.

It’s there that Shy finds me.

• • •

SHY

“I’m worried about Muscle,” I tell Beast at the gym the next day as I hold the heavy bag for him. He lifts his leg in a roundhouse kick and I automatically duck. Not that he’d ever hit me, but I’m still a little skittish about that sort of thing.

He straightens and puts his gloved hands on the bag, moving forward to talk to me. “What is it?”

I glance in the ring. Muscle’s there, banging his gloves together like a boxer and bouncing from foot to foot, likely to taunt the prospect he’s matched up with. The guy’s built, but Muscle’s a terrific fighter, so I have no doubts he’ll win. And maybe talking to Beast while Muscle’s in the ring isn’t the best time, but this is the first moment I’ve had with him alone since yesterday.

I lick my lips. It feels disloyal to tell on one of my partners to the other, and I remember that Stuart - my awful brother - snitched and got killed for it. My stomach curdles at the memory. Am I snitching? “He—he threw up yesterday,” I say. That seems safe enough.

Beast looks thoughtful. “Sick?”

“I don’t know. I guess we should watch him? If he was sick would he hide it?”

Beast’s mouth curves up in a half smile. “Depends on what it’d do for his image.”

I grin at that. Muscle does love to play up his image. My fingers go to the necklace he gave me last night. It’s pretty, but it puzzles me. The ’S’ threw me for a loop at first, because my real name is Cheyenne and not ‘Shy’, but I didn’t correct Muscle. The thought behind the gift was too sweet, and I was so very pleased.

But I’ve noticed that now that I’m wearing it, he doesn’t like looking at it. Or me. Maybe I’m imagining things. Maybe not. I toy with it a bit longer, then give Beast a troubled glance. “Do you think he’s upset at me?”

Beast gives me an incredulous look. “Why would he be upset?”

I shrug, but I can’t help but wonder. I tried to kiss him this morning and he brushed me off. Now we’re at the gym and he won’t even look in my direction. Or when he does, his smile fades.

It’s either my face or the necklace. I really hope it’s the necklace.

“I think I’m just being silly,” I say, and force a smile for Beast. I gesture at the bag. “You want to go again?”

He studies me with those dark eyes, then shrugs, shoves his sweaty hair back, and gives the bag another bone-rattling punch as I cling to it.