Double Down: A Bedlam Butchers MC Romance (The Motorcycle Clubs Book 12) (4 page)

I don’t work out, mostly because the gym is for Butchers. Which isn’t to say that there aren’t girls hanging around, of course. There are always girls hanging around these men. Lucky’s in the corner, typing away at her computer, and her desk faces her ride partner’s. She’s always here, every time I come in. I think the gym serves as a base of operations of some kind, because a lot of people come in that aren’t in workout clothes.

When the guys finally decide to hit the showers an hour or so later, Beast gives me a sweaty kiss and then I head over to one of the chairs near the door to wait. If this visit is anything like the other ones, they’ll linger to chat with some of the guys in the back offices, so I pull out my phone. I have zero emails and not a single bite on the job front, which is discouraging. I play the latest candy-destroying app instead and try not to think about the negative balance my bank account currently has.

“Pfft,” says a voice nearby.

I look up out of idle curiosity.

It’s Mouth and another girl. They’re looking at me, and as I glance up, they smirk in my direction. “Hi sweetheart,” Mouth says in a mocking voice. “Did they forget their little puppy at the door?”

I recoil inwardly. I want to say something to defend myself. To let the two bitches know that I’m not bothered by them, but I can feel my throat locking up. I know I’ll stutter, and that will just make things worse. So I say nothing at all. Mute, I turn back to my phone, but the colorful candies on the screen blur in front of my eyes.

“Gee,” says the other girl. “I t-t-t-thought she’d have a bit more sp-sp-sp-spine.”

“Guess n-n-not,” mocks Mouth.

They both giggle at their joke.

I hate them so much. I clench my jaw. What is it they want me to do? Declare that I’m just fine, thank you? That I don’t need their friendship? My gaze slides over my phone to where Lucky’s busy working away. Lucky’s nice, but she’s not the same as me. I’m property. Lucky’s patched.

I shouldn’t want someone to come to my rescue, either. The Butchers are a pretty tough group overall. If you show weakness, someone’s going to throw it back in your face to see what you do with it. But I’m not used to confronting. Years of living with my dickhole abusive brother taught me that the smartest thing to do would be to stay silent and just try not to be noticed. It’s hard to break that sort of mentality.

Really hard when you have a stutter and everything you do seems to just encourage the bullies even more.

I can’t believe I’m being bullied at my age. This is schoolyard shit and I shouldn’t let it bother me, but of course it does. I want to fit in with Muscle and Beast. I want to make them happy with me, like I am with them. And I worry that the weaker I look to the rest of the club, the more it’s going to reflect on them. It’s not something I ever thought about before, but now I can’t get it off my mind.

Worse, I worry that eventually they’re going to see all the shameful things Mouth throws in my face and decide that I’m not worth the hassle after all.

• • •

That night in bed, Muscle’s tossing restlessly against me. We didn’t have sex tonight - the guys had a service call that ran super late, and spent most of the day in an attic, sweating their asses off. By the time they got home, they were both exhausted, and after showering, we all climbed in to bed together. The men drifted off almost immediately, so I didn’t wake them. I daydreamed for a bit and eventually fell asleep myself…

Only to wake up when Muscle’s arm smacks against my face, hard.

I rub my lip and turn away, towards Beast’s big chest. Muscle’s a rough sleeper sometimes. He has a lot of nightmares, and he’s not easy to wake from them. If it gets really bad, Beast holds him down. He’s never smacked me before, but he’s also asleep, so I can’t really blame him for it.

“Just fucking deal,” he mutters, head tossing.

His arm smacks me again. Then he stiffens, and I hear a soft cry come out of him that’s full of despair. It wakes Beast up, and I feel him stiffen beside me. I can’t stand to hear Muscle so upset, so I roll over to him and press my weight against his arm, lying on top of it so he doesn’t smack me again. “Muscle?” I ask softly.

He jerks awake, his eyes so wide I can see the whites even in the darkness.

I touch his cheek and whisper, “You okay?”

His eyes flick back and forth, as if he doesn’t really see me. If he does, he’s not focusing on me.

Then he flails, his body jerking so hard that the entire bed shakes.

WHAP.

His other arm smacks clear across my face, backhanding me against Beast. A whimper of surprised pain escapes me. I’m stunned, my head spinning from the force of his hit.

Beast roars in rage, and then the entire bed shakes as he flings himself at Muscle. I’m trapped in the middle for a panicky moment, and then Beast grabs Muscle and bodily
flings
him across the room. I watch in horror as Muscle slams into the wall with a crash, leaving a dent in the drywall.

A moment later, Muscle bounds to his feet, startled. “What? What the fuck is it?”

Gentle hands touch my face. Beast’s there, holding me. My head’s throbbing so hard I can hardly stand it. He peers into my face. “You okay, babe?”

I nod, but the motion causes me pain and I wince. “I’m f-f-fine.”

Footsteps on the floor. “What happened?” Muscle asks from the other side of the bed. “Oh shit, is her face swelling?”

“You fucking hit her,” Beast grits, and I can tell by the sound of his voice that he’s utterly furious.

“It’s okay,” I say. “He w-w-was asleep.”

“It’s not okay,” Beast says. He caresses my face again and then kisses my forehead. “Wait here. I’m going to get a bag of frozen peas for your face.” He gets out of bed and as he does, he shoves Muscle aside. “Don’t you dare get back in that fucking bed with her.”

Instead of blustering or starting a fight with Beast, Muscle moves to the side. His face is troubled as he gazes down at me. He runs a hand down his face. “Goddamn it, Shy-girl. I never…You know I’d never hurt you.”

“I know,” I say, but my entire face throbs so I can’t smile to make him feel better. “You were asleep,” I repeat. “Really, it’s okay.”

He licks his lips. “I’ll sleep on the couch.”

I don’t point out that Beast has a bed, too. We just don’t sleep there anymore. So I nod. I want to tell him that it’s okay, that he can come back to bed, but I keep hearing Beast’s sound of rage. He doesn’t want Muscle back in bed right now, and I don’t think Muscle wants to be here. If he did, I’d fight to make sure Beast let him.

So I rub my cheek and say nothing.

“Hey, uh.”

I look up.

Muscle gestures at me. “Can I have that back? The necklace?”

I feel a sharp stab of pain in my chest. He wants it back? Less than a day after he gave it to me? Is it because of me, or because of whatever is going on in his head? Either way, it hurts worse than my face does. I give a shaky nod and unclasp the necklace with shaking fingers. I hand it to him, hoping he says something along the lines of
nah, you keep it
.

But he doesn’t. He just leaves.

When Beast comes back, I’m crying. He thinks it’s my face. I don’t correct him.

BEAST

One of my favorite things is a shakedown. It always calms my head when it’s full of nonsense. People pay to do business in Butchers territory. I’m not talking about restaurants and shit. I’m talking about other kinds of business. Weed. Meth. Hooking. Fencing. Side shit that the law can’t and won’t touch. We offer them protection and in exchange, they give us money. Sometimes they need a little encouraging, and that’s where I like to come in. I show up, look a little growly, a lot put out, and money flows.

Gotta say, I love that shit.

Muscle’s supposed to be with me this morning, but he elected to do an emergency business call. The side business. The legit one. HVAC. I don’t like it. I mean, of course we have to answer calls, but Muscle usually loves coming on shakedowns. It lets him stretch his already overblown ego. But since he’s not coming, I take Shy with me.

We drive around town, make our stops, and then, when everyone’s all paid up, I head over to the Meat Locker to drop money off with Lucky. Shy hangs by the door, poking around on her phone, her face averted. I can tell she’s more uncomfortable than usual. It’s probably the shiner on her face from the other night.

So I head into the offices to hand over money and get my cut. I stay and chat for a few minutes with Rotten and Sixty-two, who are hanging around. I like the boys and don’t get to see them often, so we shoot the shit for a bit. Sixty-two’s got a fierce cough that he’s trying to ignore, but the doctor’s put him on meds. It must be serious if he actually went to the doctor, because Sixty-two’s one of those types that would shrug off a broken arm.

They mention there’s a meet up with the Death Lords in Topeka, Kansas they’re supposed to go to in a few days. I volunteer me and Muscle to go in their stead, since maybe we need a long drive and a few days away to get Muscle’s head back on straight. Plus, we’ll probably want to keep our noses clean for a bit once we take care of the business on our plates.

We’ll take Shy. Shake some hands, swap some intel. It’ll be good. She likes a long bike ride, too. It’ll be perfect.

I walk out a short time later, feeling pretty good, at least until I round the corner.

“Oh shit. Look at her face. He’s hitting her.” A female voice.

“Already?” says another, gossiping. “Daaaaaamn.”

They both giggle. I turn and glare as I stalk into the main area of the gym, and their mouths snap shut. I know as soon as I leave, they’ll keep running their damn mouths.

Nearby, Shy is hunched down at the end of a bench, her gaze glued to her phone. I’m guessing she heard everything though. It’s clear she’s miserable, and I’m not entirely sure it’s all to do with the lurid bruise across one side of her face.

My instincts rise up to defend her, but I force myself to tamp it down and ignore.

Fact is, we’re a motorcycle club. Sometimes we do sketch stuff. Sometimes guys beat their women. Shit happens. No one’s going to step in and try to put me or Muscle in line if they think we’re disciplining Shy. We’d never do that. Hell, the black eye that Muscle’s sporting this morning tells exactly what I think of the fact that he accidentally hit Shy.

But these women don’t know that. And the only person a black eye is going to look bad on is the most vulnerable one. Shy.

She knows it, too, judging from the hangdog look on her face. I motion for her to join me, and she hops up, then comes to my side. I put my arm around her shoulders, showing she’s mine and I approve of her.

For all the good it’ll do. The more I defend her, the more they think she needs defending. It’s something Shy’s got to handle on her own, or else the women will continue to eat her alive.

As we walk out to my Fat Boy, Shy gives a little sigh that’s barely audible.

I rub the back of her neck. “You want some advice?”

“Sure,” she says, and there’s a dull note in her voice that I hate to hear.

“You gotta stand up to those bitches.”

“Easy for you to say.”

“It
is
easy for me to say. They’re a bunch of nobodies who are only good for their mouths and their cunts.”

She winces.

“It’s not the same for you,” I tell her, because I know she’s wondering the same thing. “You’re property. They’re just club ass. And you can’t let the club ass give you hell or you’ll never get any respect.”

“It’s not just the club ass,” she says in a small voice, and she won’t look me in the eye.

“No?”

Her shoulders go up in a half-shrug and she scuffs her boot on the gravel in the parking lot as we stand next to my bike. “Some of the old ladies were kinda…not nice.”

“Kitty?”

“Nah, I like Kitty.” Her nose wrinkles and she looks up at me with a hint of wry humor. “She’s about the only one, though.”

That she’s able to smile tells me it’s not quite as dire as I’m expecting. I cup her chin, and because she has such a pretty mouth, I run my thumb over her bottom lip. “The club can be cutthroat at times. I’m not going to lie about that. People are tough. You gotta learn to be tough with the rest of them. You matter to someone. The club ass doesn’t. Keep that in mind, all right?”

She smiles up at me and then bites the tip of my thumb playfully. “It’s hard, you know? Because of…well, Stuart. He used to love to scare the shit out of me. Keep me on edge. It was easier to just kind of duck away from everything instead of stand up for myself.”

Our girl looks so soft and vulnerable, it makes me want to tear into those bratty girls who think that spreading their legs gives them some sort of claim that Shy doesn’t get to share. “You’ve got me and Muscle at your back,” I tell her. “You know we’ll always be there to support you. You just need to start things rolling is all. Don’t take their shit. You gotta change that.”

“I’ll try,” she says. Then she bites the tip of my thumb again, and I can’t resist easing it between her lips to see if she’ll suck on it.

She does, and the look she gives me through her lashes is scorching.

“We’re going home,” I tell her.

“Are we done?”

“We are now,” I say, handing her a helmet. “Because I think you need a good, hard fucking, and I’m just the man to do it.”

Her giggle of pleasure is sweet to my ears, as are the arms that twine around my waist as we get on my bike.

By the time we make it home, I’ve imagined all the different positions I can put Shy in to fuck her today. I haven’t fucked her missionary in a few days. Maybe she’d like that. Just prop her ankles behind my head and go to town on her, watch her little tits bounce as my dick slams home. Yeah, I’d like that.

We pull up and I’m a little surprised to see the company van’s in the driveway. Muscle was driving the cage earlier today. He must be home.

Good, he can fuck her mouth while I fuck her pussy. He needs a distraction, too.

As soon as the bike’s parked and off, Shy slides off the seat behind me and removes her helmet. I swing my leg over the bike and a moment later, I pull her against me so she can feel my erection. Normally I let Muscle take the lead when we’re fucking, because I’m bigger than he is and I want to make sure she’s plenty lubed up before I slide into her.

Plus, I like watching. Heh. I’m sure that makes me a little deviant. I’m also pretty sure I don’t give a shit. I am who I am and Shy likes me that way, and I like her just the way she is.

Her eyes widen as she feels my dick against her, and the smile lights her face. It’s a smile of eagerness. Doesn’t matter that she was a virgin less than a month ago - our girl likes sex, and she likes it a lot. She takes my hand in hers and then leads me inside with a sashay of her cute little ass.

And stops when she enters the living room. The lights are off and Muscle’s sitting there with a beer in the dark, staring at nothing.

Well, fuck. That can kill a man’s boner dead. I know something’s bugging the shit out of Muscle. I don’t know how to fix it, but we’re definitely going to have to have a talk when Shy’s out of earshot. She probably won’t approve of my ‘straighten up or get the fuck out’ pep talk. She’s soft and she cares too much.

Even now, she looks back at me with wounded eyes, asking a question.

I nod. I can wait.

She gives my hand a squeeze and enters the living room, then trails her fingers along Muscle’s arm. He looks up at the sight of her, gives her a faint smile.

Shy takes the beer from his hand and sets it down on the table. “Come to bed with us?”

For a moment, I expect him to refuse. I can tell by the set of his shoulders that he’s thinking about it. But he only stares down at her small hand in his. “You sure you want me there?”

Ah, fuck. Just that simple question tells me there’s a wealth of pain in that head. That he desperately wants what she can offer, but is afraid he doesn’t deserve it. Not after last night. Any grudge I harbor against him disappears with that.

“Of course I do,” Shy says, and she tugs his hand until he gets up. Then she smiles at me, takes my hand in her other, and leads us both up the stairs.

When we get upstairs, she leads us into my bedroom instead of Muscle’s. It’s a change from the norm, because we’ve been bunking down in his for the last while. It’s probably a good thing, too. Maybe now we won’t think about last night and how he decked her in his sleep. I can tell from the stressed-out look on Muscle’s face that he hasn’t forgotten it, though.

In my room, Shy releases our hands and sits down on the edge of the bed. She crosses her legs and straightens, looking as if she’s sitting at a desk. “All right,” she says, and there’s a mischievous look in her big eyes. “Undress for me.”

I grin to myself and strip off my shirt. I like it when she gets all sassy. Muscle’s hands go to his belt, and he looks over at me, then back at her.

“You’re not gonna make us kiss or some shit, are you?”

She giggles. “No. I just want to watch you get naked.”

He grunts and undoes his pants. Gotta say I’m relieved, too. I mean, Muscle ain’t my type. I’ve seen him naked a hundred times and never felt the desire to tap that. Glad we’re on the same page.

Our Shy-girl’s watching with interest as we undress, though. Her gaze flicks back and forth from me to Muscle, as if she’s afraid she’ll miss a moment. I undo my own pants and shove them off, then shuck my underwear. Muscle’s not wasting any time either, and he’s naked in moments too. If Shy was expecting a strip-tease, she should have said so. We’re guys. We don’t tease anything. We just fucking do.

She makes a sound of approval when we’re both naked.

“What else can I do for you, my lady?” At my side, Muscle bends at the waist in a joking bow. “Perhaps massage your feet?”

I’m glad he’s starting to be a little more like his normal self.

“No,” she says in a coy voice. She lays back on the bed and stretches her arms out over her head, the movement thrusting her small breasts into the air. “I want you to come service me.”

And just like that, my erection’s back, full bore. I hear Muscle stifle a groan and we look at each other. I gesture that he can take the first round, because watching’s as much pleasure for me as doing.

Shy closes her eyes and gives a little wiggle on the bed. I watch as Muscle reverently slides between her jeans-clad legs and parts them. He hefts her legs over his shoulders, her knees bent, and then begins to undo her pants for her.

“I want to put my mouth on your pussy,” he tells her. “Fucking lick you for hours.”

She gives a breathless little sigh. “That sounds good. I want that, too.”

He finishes undoing her pants and then grabs the fabric and drags it down her thighs. I notice he’s pulling her little cotton panties with them; Muscle doesn’t waste any time. The sight’s sexy as fuck, watching her little bush appear, because I’m imagining how wet and warm she is.

I take myself in hand and begin to stroke as he pulls her pants off of her legs and then moves back between them again. My cock aches with need, but I’m good. I can hold off for a while to increase my own pleasure. So I just grip myself and stroke slowly, watching as he spreads her thighs wider and buries his face in her pussy.

Shy gasps and her entire body jerks. Her hands go to Muscle’s head and she holds him there.

I can hear his groan from here. “Fuck, she’s so damn wet. You must have got her good and primed,” he says to me.

“I think she just likes bossing us around,” I say, flexing my wrist as I pump myself.

“Mmm,” Muscle says. “That true, Shy-girl? All this pussy juice because you like being bossy?” He sinks his mouth in between her sleek folds again before she can answer.

She moans and presses a hand to her forehead, like a damsel in distress. The other hand stays on the back of Muscle’s head, holding him there. “Oh God, your mouth.”

“Lick her clit,” I growl. “Circle it with your tongue.”

Muscle can’t respond, though. He’s nose deep in her cunt. I hear nothing but slick sounds of tongue and lips and wet flesh, and I work myself faster, giving my cock little squeezes with my hand. I see Shy’s breasts pointing at the ceiling, her nipples poking through her shirt. I want her to take it off, because I love seeing those tits bounce when she’s being fucked.

I’ll say one thing about my boy Muscle: when he licks a pussy, he’s thorough. There isn’t a single inch of skin that he doesn’t kiss, lick, suck on, or caress. The lower half of his face is wet with her juices, and she’s making sounds like she’s dying, but it’s clear she’s enjoying the hell out of this. I bark more instructions from time to time.
Stick your tongue in her cunt. Fuck her with it. Suck on her clit.
And he does each one without missing a beat.

Shy thrashes on the bed, her legs jerking against Muscle’s shoulders when he hits a particularly sensitive spot. I can tell when she’s about to come, because her back starts to arch, and her mouth opens in a soft O but no sound comes out. Her entire body tenses, and I watch as her head tilts back and a soft cry escapes her. Shudder after shudder racks her body, and Muscle just continues eating her pussy as if the world depends on it.

One last sigh escapes her, and then she goes limp on the bed with a long moan. “Oh wow,” she breathes.