Double Trouble: A Bedlam Butchers MC Romance (The Motorcycle Clubs Book 8) (5 page)

I look at him with wide eyes. “N-n-new s-s-sh-sh-shit?”

“Aw, hell. I’ve got her stuttering again.” Muscle approaches me and gives me a wicked grin, then leans in to whisper, “I noticed you weren’t stuttering when I had my fingers in your pussy.”

I blush hard, because he’s right.

“What do you have to wear?” Beast asks.

I look down at my dress and gesture helplessly. What I have on and my clutch purse is all I have.

“You want to head to your place and grab your shit?”

My eyes widen and I give them a look of fear. The last thing I want to do is go home. In a panic, I shake my head. “N-n-n-no, please. I want to s-s-stay.”

“It’s all right,” Beast says, sensing my terror. “You’re ours until we decide otherwise.”

“Yeah,” Muscle says, considering me. “Thinkin’ we should get you a Butchers t-shirt since you’ll be tagging along with us. Wouldn’t want anyone getting any ideas.”

I smile, because that sounds like a good idea. “I’d like that.”

And Muscle grins at me because I don’t stutter.

The Roadhouse is kind of decrepit looking from the outside. Inside, it’s clearly a biker hangout, and there’s a scatter of Harleys out front that tell me there’s a lot of bikers here already. We’re not there two minutes before Muscle’s sweet-talking one of the waitresses and she trots away and returns with a black t-shirt that has the Butchers logo across the tits and NEW MEXICO blazoned across the back. I put it on over my dress, so now it looks a bit like I’m wearing a filmy skirt and a t-shirt. I’m pleased to have it, though. I want to be property. No one can fuck with property.

Beast’s big hand rests on my shoulder as we head in to the restaurant. That’s fine by me. I stay close to him because this place is filled with bikers and their ladies. Despite the before noon hour, every table is full. As we head in, though, Muscle heads for one of the booths along the side wall. Two men are sitting there, nursing drinks. Muscle leans down on the table and puts his knuckles on the wood. “Who told you boys you could sit at our table?”

The men get up, grinning.

“That’s right,” Muscle says. “Get your asses outta here.” He looks over and grinds at me and Beast. “Dumbass prospects. Someone needs to tell them booths are for patches only.” He slides in on one side and crosses his arms, looking pleased with himself.

Beast slides in opposite from him, and I’m left with a choice. Where do I get to sit? I hesitate.

“I got someplace you can sit,” Muscle tells me with a nod. “Let you take care of my morning wood now.”

My eyes widen, my gaze locked with his. There’s a challenge there. He’s trying to get me to back down, I realize. I wounded his pride last night, and now he’s trying to test me to see how I’ll react. Shock and disbelief flare...and so does a dirty bolt of lust.

If he thinks he can get me to run because he wants to play in public, he’s got another thing coming.

My dad was in a club before he went to prison. My brother joined the Butchers shortly after high school. I’ve heard enough rumors to not be surprised about Muscle’s request. I know all about the debauchery that goes on with some bikers. It’s not unexpected, and I knew if I was offering myself to Beast and Muscle that I might have to go past my comfort zone to stay safe.

That doesn’t stop me from blushing of course. My face is scarlet as I move toward Muscle’s side of the booth. He winks at me and pats his lap, and Beast obligingly pulls the table closer to his side so I have room to slide in.

“Come straddle me, Shy-girl,” he tells me, and even though the grin on his face is as cocky as ever, I sense that my willingness to be his in public has pleased him. So I move toward him, and he puts a hand to my waist and drags me into his lap, adjusting me until I’m straddling him, my breasts pressing against his chest, my legs framing his on both sides. It also allows me to feel the erection he’s started sporting, and I blush even harder.

But then he kisses me, and his hands go to my breasts, and his thumbs tickle the tips through the layers of fabric, and I feel heat pulse through my body. My breath catches and I start to kiss him back, at first tentative, then with growing enthusiasm. There’s something so titillatingly naughty about sitting on his lap and making out with him while others are around us, probably watching. Actually, I
know
Beast is watching. And I like that, too, because I know he likes to watch.

His hips move against mine, pressing his bulge against my pussy. I still don’t have panties so I feel the denim rub right up against my flesh.

“You gonna protest if I sink my cock right into that sweet little pussy right here? Right now?” His lips move against mine.

I sigh and give my head a little shake. “I’m yours.”

“Mmm,” he says, and the sound is delicious. His hands continue to work my breasts, his fingers tugging my nipples into aching points. “You sore?”

“A little,” I whisper. “Does it matter?”

“A little,” he teases back. “Want me to finger you first? Get you all slippery so I can just push right on in?”

My breath catches and I nod. Our faces are practically pressed together, and this feels intimate despite the fact that we’re in a restaurant filled with bikers. He grins, and I feel his mouth stretch even as he kisses me again, and then his hand pushes under my skirt and finds the curls of my sex. “Damn, baby. You’re already wet. It doesn’t take much, does it?”

I don’t answer; I can’t, not with his fingers pressing through my folds and rubbing me in secret, dirty ways. Under my skirt, no one can see, but I can feel everything, and oh God, the intensity with which he touches me drives me nearly mad. Then, he slips a hard, pressing finger inside me and I gasp. It pinches for a moment, and I’m sore, but then there’s nothing but delicious sensation.

“Damn, son,” a man calls nearby. “Muscle’s getting mad pussy today.”

“Fucking prospects,” Beast mutters.

Muscle just grins, and then his mouth claims mine again. His tongue thrusts into my mouth at the same time his finger does. He does something with it inside me, and then I jump, crying out softly, because he just hit something deep inside me that made the sensations intensify by a thousand.

“There it is,” Muscle says. “The g-spot. You like that?”

I nod.

“No, I think I need to hear you say it, baby girl.” His nose nudges mine a second before he gives me another wet, licking kiss, then pulls back again. “Tell me, ‘Yes, Muscle, I like it when you touch my g-spot.’”

My mouth opens, but no sound comes out because he thrusts into me again. I tense, but he doesn’t hit the same spot, and I make a sound of protest.

“That’s not it,” Muscle teases, and pushes his finger in again.

I moan, not caring that someone might hear me. “Y-y-y-yes, M-m-m-muscle,” I pant.

“Don’t push her too hard,” Beast growls.

“No more teasing,” Muscle agrees, and his finger slides out of me.

“Oh,” I protest, and kiss him again, my mouth urgent.

He chuckles and moves me to the side for a moment. “Gotta put on a glove, Shy-girl.”

I nod and watch, breathless, as he unbuckles his belt, loosens his jeans, and frees his cock. He pulls out his wallet with one hand and finds a condom, then tears it open with his teeth. He rolls it on quickly, and then just as quickly, I’m plopped back into his lap. He pushes into me, and this time, it’s not a finger, it’s his cock.

My breath hisses out, because I’m sore, and he’s big. It’s uncomfortable, and my weight keeps pushing me down onto him.

“Shh,” Muscle says, and his hands cup my face and he kisses my mouth so sweetly that I’m surprised. It’s not his way to be tender, and the small movement arouses me even more. He continues to tongue me with soft, gentle motions, for what feels like endless minutes, until I’m squirming on top of him and wishing he would move.

When I start to twitch, the kissing stops, and his hands move to my waist. “Ride me, Shy-girl.”

My face is burning hot, but I’m entranced by the tenderness in his voice. I lift my hips, and he shifts his, and then we’re moving together. And oh, it feels good. Insanely good. I forget all about where we are and concentrate on Muscle, his mouth inches away from my own, and lifting my hips up and down on his to push him into me.

“That’s right,” he encourages me. “Keep moving just like that.” I do, and he adds, “Feels good, doesn’t it, Shy-girl?”

Like I can talk? I’m too busy trying not to moan aloud. I bite my lip and nod, then bury my face against his neck. I hear a woman giggle as people walk past, and I want to be embarrassed, but God, I want to come first. I’ll be embarrassed after Muscle’s done with me. Maybe not even then, because I love the feel of his arms holding me against him, and his big, warm body pressing against mine. And, okay, I’m a little addicted to the way I feel with him seated deep inside me. My fingers curl against his shirt and I work my hips on him faster. He groans, and I’m encouraged, because that’s the first sign he’s given me that he’s enjoying this as much as I am. I like hearing his reaction.

So I roll my hips a bit more, trying to see if I can get that same reaction out of him again. Get him to make another one of those throaty groans that tells me I’m getting to him. I read somewhere once that guys like it when you tighten around them, Kegel-style, and so I try that, squeezing my inner muscles as I ride him.

This time, Muscle’s head falls back and he groans loudly enough for Beast to chuckle. “Who’s riding who?” Beast comments as Muscle’s hands grip me tighter.

“Who knew our Shy-girl would be so adventurous?” Muscle murmurs in my ear. “I’m thinking she likes getting pushed out of her comfort zone.”

I don’t, I really don’t, I want to tell him, but at the same time...I don’t feel pushed out of my comfort zone with him and Beast. On the contrary, they make me feel like anything I do is safe.

Muscle’s hand smacks my ass, making me jump at the crack of his hand against my skin. “You want me to hit your g-spot again?”

I nod, pressing my mouth to his neck.

“Too quiet,” Muscle says, his hand squeezing my ass.

He drags me down his length, and then he’s hitting that perfect spot again, and I mew against his neck like a kitten because oh God, it feels so good. He thrusts against it again, and I’m almost there, rolling my hips against him hard, when he stops.

And I smack his shoulder in protest, because I need to
come
.

“I think I need to hear some verbalization,” he says in that cocky voice. “Say, ‘Muscle, please make me come’ and I’ll hit your g-spot again.”

I smother my moan of protest and rock on his lap a bit harder, but I can’t hit that right spot quite on my own. Swallowing my embarrassment, I murmur, “Muscle, please make me come.”

“I don’t think I heard that,” he says. “Try again.”

I nibble on his earlobe instead, trying to coax him into fucking me.

But Muscle just sits and waits. “Nope, I’m thinking I need some serious volume, here. Else I might just stop entirely.”

Cruel man. I dig my fingernails in, but he only chuckles. Fine. He wants volume? I’ll give him volume. “M-muscle,” I scream in his ear, hating that I stutter. “Make me come, Muscle!”

A ripple of laughter moves through the roadhouse. It’s a good thing my face is buried against his neck, so no one can see my awkward expression.

“Louder,” he demands, and I can practically feel his grin. His hand slaps my ass again, harder.

“Muscle,” I bellow at the top of my lungs.

As I do, he clutches my hips and pushes deep, and there he is. Hitting that most perfect spot. The one that makes my entire body jerk and all of my muscles lock up. He stops again, and so I continue screaming. “Please, Muscle!” Thrust. “YES!” Thrust thrust. “GOD!” Thrust. “YES!” Thrust. “MUSCLE!” My throat’s getting raw from my screams, but oh my God, I’m so close to coming, and my hand clenches against the back of his head and then the ripples of my orgasm start, and a low groan escapes me, and my legs tremble with the force of my orgasm. Then, Muscle’s pounding into me even as I come, and I feel his body tense, feel the orgasm grip him, too, and he savagely pushes into me.

“Fuck yeah,” he grits out, just loud enough for me to hear, and I feel him pulse deep inside me, sending another ripple of pleasure through my body. Then, he holds me tightly in place for a good long while, and it kinda feels like cuddling. I cling to him, feeling boneless and good. Hot with embarrassment, sure, but needed and pleased at how it feels.

His hand skims down my back and then he caresses the ass-cheek he spanked earlier. His mouth caresses my neck.

“You’re sweet, Shy-girl,” he murmurs into my ear, and that gives me new shivers of pleasure. I glance up at Muscle’s face, and there’s tenderness in his normally playful gaze.

“What the ever-loving fuck?” A loud voice breaks in.

I cringe, because I recognize that voice, and I hide my face against Muscle’s shoulder again.

“Yo,” Muscle says easily.

“You’re fucking my sister?” Stuart snarls, and a rough hand fastens around my wrist.

I shouldn’t be freaking out at the fact that Stuart’s here, and he’s heard me screaming my lungs out as Muscle fucks me in public. I knew when I went for Muscle and Beast that they ran in the same club my brother did, and that it was bound to get back to Stuart that I was with them.

I was just sort of hoping it wouldn’t happen while I was present.

Or that it’d happen while I’m feeling vulnerable after a guy just fucked me. In a booth. In public. Oh God. I can’t even be sorry about it, because my legs are still twitching from the delicious aftershocks.

But Stuart’s hand on my arm is bruisingly tight, and when he tries to wrench me off of Muscle’s lap, Muscle slaps his hand away.

“Fuck off, Taco,” Muscle says in that supremely cocky voice. “She’s taken.”

“That’s my fucking sister,” Stuart growls.

“No,” Muscle says with amusement. “She might be your sister, but I’m the only one fucking her at the moment. Unless Beast wants a turn right now?” His hand strokes down my back, soothing me, and it’s only then that I realize my entire body is shaking like a leaf.

“What the fuck, man,” Stuart says, not giving up. “I thought family was off limits.”

“They are, usually,” Muscle says. To my horror, he slides a hand under my skirt and presses his thumb against my clit. And whether I want to or not, my hips start rocking against his again and another orgasm starts building. I’m so sensitive at this point I couldn’t even stop if I wanted to. “Thing is,” Muscle continues. “I’m balls deep in your sister at the moment because we found her at the panty raid. She’s a hot little fuck, too.”

And as if to prove this point, he gives my clit a little rub and I cry out, because I’m coming again.

“I don’t plan on giving her up anytime soon,” Muscle adds, pulling his hand from my skirt and then licking the thumb he just had on my clit in a rather blatant fashion. “So you best step away, brother.”

“Come on, man,” Lock says in an easy voice, and I remember what a good guy Lock is. He’s always tried to stick up for me, even when Stuart’s been a dick. “Let’s let it go.”

I dare to peek over at Stuart, and his entire face is calm, but his eyes are narrow and cold. His gaze flicks over at me. He knows exactly why I’m here with Muscle and Beast. And the look on his face tells me that the moment they ditch me, I’m going to end up dead. I hold tighter to Muscle’s t-shirt because I feel as if I need to hold on to something right now. I’m so terrified I’m on the verge of blacking out.

Then, Stuart looks at me again. His lip curls derisively. “Didn’t realize that my sister was into prison dick. Shouldn’t be surprised. She’s a little whore. You boys might want to get checked.”

Prison...dick? Is Stuart just being hateful or does he know something I don’t?

The entire table shoves forward, the lip pushing into my lower back. I hear a low, angry growl and I realize that Beast has gotten to his feet, and he’s now looming over Stuart, a furious look on his face.

“I’ll put up with your lip because you’re a fellow Butcher,” Muscle says casually. “But my boy Beast, here, he don’t like it when people shit on him.”

I look over at Beast and the big man’s face is furious, his lips curled down in the meanest, ugliest snarl. He truly looks fearsome, and both my brother and Lock take a step back.

Lock nudges my brother again. “Come on, man. Go work it off at the gym or something. You know your sister’s with the club at the moment. That ain’t a bad thing.”

Stuart shoves him aside, as if they haven’t been friends since high school. “Fuck off. All of you, just fuck off.” He shoots another vicious look at me, straightens his patch-covered leather vest, and then storms out of the restaurant.

“Someone’s got to get laid,” Muscle says cheerfully. “I know it keeps my pretty face smiling.”

Beast snorts.

Lock just shakes his head and rubs a hand through his short hair. “Fuck, man. I don’t know what’s up with Taco lately. Something’s sure crawled up his ass.”

“Well, tell him to fuck off messing with me and Beast,” Muscle says to Lock. “We got Shy-girl at the panty raid, and we’re keeping her ‘til we’re tired of her.”

I wrap my arms around Muscle’s neck and nod, because that’s exactly what I want to hear.

Lock nods. “I hear ya, man. I’d say he’s just defensive of his sister, but...” His voice trails off. Lock’s known both me and Stuart long enough to know that Stuart’s usually the first one to attack me, and the last one to defend me. He nods at our table, instead. “You boys look after Shy. She’s a good girl.” He gives me a quick nod, too, and then turns, heading off after my brother.

I’m touched at his words. Whatever shit my brother’s got himself into, I hope he hasn’t dragged Lock into it. Lock’s a good guy. I think. Then again, I thought Stuart was a dick, but never stupid enough to snitch.

To my surprise, Beast sits down in the booth next to Muscle and hauls me out of the other man’s lap, and I feel wetness slide down my thighs as Muscle’s cock is unseated from my pussy’s grip. “She’s fucking shaking,” Beast growls at Muscle.

“Don’t look at me,” Muscle says easily. “I made her shake in good ways.”

“You all right?” Beast asks me. His fingers run down my arm, soothing away gooseflesh.

I nod and lean against him, feeling awkward. I don’t want to talk about Stuart, but I have a feeling it’s going to come up.

Only, it doesn’t. Beast grabs a handful of napkins and presses them into my hand so I can clean up, and, cheeks burning, I mop myself up a bit while Muscle does the same. Luckily, there’s a small wastebasket under the table and we’re able to toss everything down there.

Then, sandwiched between the two men, Muscle straightens the table out and waves the waitress over. “I’m goddamn famished. Let’s eat something.”

• • •

To my surprise, we hang out at the Roadhouse until well after lunch. At first I think we’re just there to eat (and, okay, fuck) but we hang around long after we’ve eaten. I keep wondering if they’re waiting for Stuart to come back, or if they’re waiting for me to fess up to something, but I’m not about to. I sip my Diet Coke, pick half-heartedly at nachos and give the rest to Beast, who wolfs them down without a second thought. The men still sandwich me on one side of the booth, but occasionally Beast gets up to talk to someone. One time I turn my head to see what’s going on, and Muscle taps my nose. “Eyes up front, Shy-girl.”

I can guess what that means—club business, and I should ignore things.

Eventually, whoever the men were waiting on is free, and they get up from the booth. They send me to another booth at the back of the Roadhouse that has several pairs of headphones, and I follow the lead of another girl sitting nearby who has the headphones on while a prospect guards the table. As I sit down, the prospect hooks the headphones into a nearby stereo and AC/DC blasts out of the headphones. He hands them to me and I put them on. My ears throb from the bass of the music, but with them on, I can hear nothing. Across the way, Muscle’s got his arms crossed over his chest and he stands near a booth in the back, chatting with two men. Beast stands beside him, but as I watch, he glances back at me, and then winks.

And I can’t help but relax a little at that. It tells me that even though I’m over here in the corner, Beast is watching over me. I yawn, a little tired (okay, a lot tired) from the exhausting twenty-four hours I’ve just had. I lay down on my side of the booth, use my arm as a pillow, and then go to sleep.

One of the men shakes me awake a short time later, and then we ride back to the guys’ place. We order pizza and curl up on the sofa and watch stupid TV. Beast and Muscle apparently get a kick out of old dubbed martial arts movies, and they howl with laughter as they watch. I eat a few pieces of pizza, then cuddle up against Beast to enjoy the movie.

I don’t realize I’ve fallen asleep until I wake up and Beast is tucking me into his bed. I feel his big, warm body against mine, his chest bare, and I press my hands to his skin. There’s a faint bit of light streaming in from the hall, and I can just barely make out heavily inked swirling patterns that cover Beast’s arms from shoulder to wrist. His chest is dotted with a number of strange, dark tattoos that I can’t make out, but his tanned flesh is warm and just like I thought, he’s solid bulk, no fat on him.

I yawn and press closer to him as he gets into bed. “Does Muscle not want sex tonight?”

He shrugs those big shoulders. “I told him to fuck off because you were tired. Figured you wouldn’t have the stones to tell him no.” His big hand glides down my back, and I realize I’m naked against him. Man, how did I sleep through him undressing me?

“I don’t mind,” I tell Beast. After all, I want both men to want me. To keep me safe.

“Yeah, but I did,” Beast says. “You still scared?”

“Nah, I’m okay.” I place a hand against his chest, as if to show him—and myself—that it’s not shaking. “See? All better.”

He grunts, and for a long moment, I think he’s going to ask me about Stuart. Then he just tugs the covers over us. “Get some sleep.”

He holds me against him, and I love the warmth and protection, but now that he’s woken me up, my brain won’t turn off. I keep thinking about the ugly confrontation with Stuart from earlier. He knows where I’m at, and who I’m with. He’s probably telling his friends in the Eighty-Eight that I’m shacking up with someone because I know what he’s up to. He knows I haven’t told anyone anything yet, because if I had, well, Stuart’d be dead by now. A club doesn’t allow snitches to live.

But my brother knows I have information to hold against him, and he won’t like that. He’s going to try and sabotage things for me, if I don’t miss my guess. Turn the men against me so they force me out. Because right now? I don’t have anything. I abandoned my car outside of Chrome, and if I know my brother, he’s probably hot-wired it and pushed it into the nearest lake. I left everything I owned back at the trailer. I even ditched my job and tossed my phone so no one could track me. If Beast and Muscle turn me out, I have nowhere to go and no one to depend on.

I’m completely and wholly vulnerable. Another shiver rocks through me at the thought.

“You scared of me now?” Beast asks. His voice is low and soft.

I blink, surprised to hear this. “Scared? Why?” If there’s anything I’ve learned about Beast in the last day or so, it’s that he’s got a kind heart, no matter how frightening his exterior. Or maybe he just likes me. Either way, no, I’m not scared of Beast.

“Because of the prison thing.” His hand rubs my bare arm again.

I suppose I should be, but again, I’m still not scared of Beast. “What did you do time for?”

“Aggravated assault,” he tell me bluntly. “Took a plea deal. Got ten years, served six.”

I swallow hard. “Oh.” My hand seems ultra-small against his chest now. “Who did you assault?”

“Meth dealer. Found out he was selling to kids in our territory. Didn’t like that. Someone needed to teach him a lesson. Could say it was innocent, but it wasn’t.” He pauses and the big hand stills on my arm. “So you scared now?”

Does this change how I feel about Beast? Not really. But it’s clear from the way he’s tensing against me, that he thinks I’m going to judge him and hate him. I can’t judge, though. I knew when I approached the Butchers that they weren’t exactly squeaky clean. That was part of the appeal—that they wouldn’t be afraid to get their hands dirty to keep me safe.

If anyone can keep Stuart from harming me, it’s this guy and Muscle.

But I want to show Beast I’m not afraid. It’s time for me to take the reins, just a little. I keep my voice quiet and meek and ask, “So...I guess I just have one thing to ask.”

I feel his big body tensing even more. “Go on.”

“Did...you get any?”

He pauses. “Get any what?”

“Prison dick? Did you have a boyfriend?” It’s a wonder I manage to say it straight-faced and without a stutter.

A low rumble starts in his chest, and I realize he’s laughing. His hands go to my side and he starts tickling me. With a squeal, I try to wriggle away, but he’s so much bigger than me that there’s no possible way. Laughing, I push at his hands. He’s on top of me, his silky black hair falling forward and brushing against my skin as he grins down at me. And then he stops laughing, and his expression changes.

It’s a look I’m starting to recognize. My breath catches in my throat and I watch as his hand glides down my arm again, this time caressing instead of comforting.

“How sore are you?” he asks.

“Not that sore,” I tell him, breathless. My breasts are rising and falling with a new kind of anticipation, and the tickling has only made me hunger for a different type of touch. I snuggle a bit closer and lean in to kiss him. “The whole Butchers thing...are you allowed to...without Muscle around?”

He chuckles and one big hand cups my ass, dragging me down against his cock. “Jason won’t care,” he tells me. “It only matters if you want to.”

“I do,” I tell him, brushing my fingers over one hard pectoral to tease his nipple. “Is that Muscle’s real name? Jason?” At his nod, I ask, “What’s yours?”

“Cal.”

I like it. “Short for...Calvin?”

“Caleb.”

“Oh. I like Caleb.”

His big mouth pulls into a grin. “So you’re the one.”

“That’s me,” I say with a giggle. “The only one that likes the name ‘Caleb’.” I lean in and rub my nose against his before pressing my mouth gently to his lips. “But maybe I just like everything about you.”

“You’d be the only one.”

I don’t think so. But now isn’t the time to sit and argue about something like that, when I can show him instead. So I gently kiss Beast and let him know that he’s perfect in my eyes. We make love and it’s different with Beast than it is with Muscle. For all his size, he’s incredibly tender. And while he doesn’t push me to my limits like Muscle does, it’s nice to have sweet and gentle, too. I like both ways. And when he enters me, even though he’s big and pressing, it doesn’t hurt; he makes sure of that. Instead, it’s nothing but good, and he kisses me and teases me until I come so hard that my toes curl.

After we’ve both had our release, Beast kisses me with so much fierce, aching longing that I wonder how no one has appreciated who he is before. So he went to prison? So he’s not as handsome as Muscle? He has other qualities that make him equally appealing. I ponder this as he leaves the bed and heads to the bathroom to take a quick shower.