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

We don’t get back to the men’s house until late that night. Instead, we go to the Meat Locker, a big, brutish looking gym a few towns over. There, I shower off the blood and switch into some of Lucky’s gym clothes, which hang off me like I’m a kid. While I’m cleaning up, my boys are meeting with the presidents and the VPs to go over what happened. I’m not invited because I’m not club, but it still rankles a bit to be considered a second class citizen after I killed the bad guy.

Then, I start shaking like a leaf because I killed someone. My own damn brother. I tell myself that he was going to kill me first, that he was going to sell me for drugs to someone that wanted to cut me up in pieces and teach me a lesson. But it doesn’t mean I can stop trembling. I don’t stop until Muscle wraps his arms around me and murmurs comforting words in my ears. He knows what I’ve gone through, he tells me. That I need to be strong in public and I can collapse in private, later, with him.

And somehow, that gets me through the day.

A couple of patches are sent out to the trailer to ‘make it disappear’. There’s two bodies to dump and a lot of evidence to clean up, and if I know my brother, a lot of meth and crack rock to get rid of. Beast and Muscle ask if I want anything from the house, but I don’t.

I want a clean slate. That’s what I want.

Exhausted, I nap in one of the back rooms while the men discuss business, and I wake up when Beast rouses me long enough for me to park behind him on his bike. Then, we pack double back to the house.

Back home. At least, I suppose it’s my home for now. Again. My other one’s probably being torched by gasoline so no one can tell what happened there. Just another freak wiring issue in an old, run-down trailer. Apparently one of the Butchers works for an insurance company, so the details will be smoothed over.

I gaze at the now mostly-clean house as we walk in. The kitchen’s clean and sparkling, the sink free of dishes. There’s even a batch of breakfast muffins on the counter, because I know Muscle likes to wake up super early and eat something.

I’m here for now, but...what next? I hesitate in the kitchen, putting my hands on the counter and feeling the comforting cool granite under my fingers.

“You need a drink?” Beast asks, ever concerned for my welfare. He tilts my head back and examines my face. “You look wiped.”

I give him a wan smile. “It’s not every d-day you k-kill your b-brother.” I try to joke about the situation, but then my bravado just sort of crumples in on itself, and the next thing I know, I’m sobbing. Big arms pick me up and carry me to the couch, and Beast holds me as I weep.

“Make her drink this,” says Muscle, and then a tumbler of something dark is pushed into my hand.

I lift my head and sniff the drink, then wince. “What is this?”

“A little soda and a lot of Southern Comfort. Drink it. You need to relax.” Muscle takes a swig himself from a matching glass, then winks at me.

I take a tentative sip, then cough as it burns my throat. “God, that’s awful,” I choke out.

“It is,” Muscle agrees with a grin. “Drink it anyway.”

I do, even though it feels like fire on my sore throat. It hurts worse than anything, and I know from my quick glimpse in the shower mirrors earlier that I have finger-print purple bruises around my neck, bruises that made Muscle furious earlier. He seems to have mostly calmed down now, though as I sip my drink and he gazes at me, I wonder if the drink is intended to calm me or if he needed one and didn’t want to drink alone.

When it’s all done, I hand the glass back, and I’m feeling warm and a little floaty. Exhausted, yes, but not as frantic.

“Still sad?” Beast asks, rubbing a big hand down my back.

“It’s not sadness as much as it is...fear, I guess,” I say, surprised I’m able to get it all out without a single trip of a syllable. Maybe the liquor’s loosened me up more than I thought. “I don’t know what happens to me now.”

The men share a look. Muscle leaves the room.

I blink, watching him go. Did I say something that upset him? I give Beast a questioning look.

“You’re ours,” Beast says simply.

“Oh, but,” I begin, my mind racing. “You don’t have to do that. If Stuart’s gone, I don’t need protection any longer.”

“No, you misunderstand,” Muscle says, returning to the room a moment later. He’s holding his leather cut, the vest with his club patches that every Bedlam Butcher—heck, every biker—wears. He approaches and holds it out to me.

My brows draw together and I take the vest from him.

“We said we were keeping you until we were tired of you,” Muscle says. “Don’t see that happening anytime soon.”

“N-no?” I hold the vest against my chest, and give Beast a hopeful look.

“Don’t know that I’ll ever get tired of you,” Beast says, voice low and serious and so warm that my skin prickles in response.

Muscle nudges the vest and flips it over so I can see the patches on the back. It’s the Bedlam Butchers logo—the joker with the crossed blades, but instead of the club name, it says PROPERTY OF at the top and BEAST & MUSCLE at the bottom.

I’ve been claimed. For keeps.

Hot tears blur my eyes. “Really?”

“Really,” says Muscle. “But that means we’re taking this all the way. No more pussy-footing around because you’re a virgin.”

I blink up at him. “What do you mean?”

“We both want to claim you,” Beast says. “Same time. Together.”

Oh. I mentally picture that and I can feel the blush scalding my cheeks. “Together?”

“Cocks stuffed in every hole, Shy-girl,” Muscle says, coming up to where I’m cradled against Beast and he runs his thumb along my lower lip. “You got objections, speak now or forever hold your peace.”

I shake my head. “I want to belong to both of you. I want it more than anything.” I do—even though the scenario is an odd one, I’ve felt more at home and more welcome with these two men than I ever have in my own home. “But what about...today?”

“What about today?” Beast asks, and Muscle shrugs, puzzled.

“Prison,” I whisper. “I killed a man.”

“So did I,” Muscle says in that confident voice of his. “And I ain’t going to prison. It’s taken care of.”

“But—”

“Taken care of,” Muscle repeats, the stern look on his face brooking no discussion.

Okay then.

“But now your first loyalty is to us, and the club,” Beast says. “You hear something, you come to us. We’ll protect you because you’re ours.”

I nod slowly. “I-I’m going to need to get a job again. My c-car—”

“Shit, this ain’t a prison,” Muscle says with a laugh. “It’s a relationship. You can get a job. You can do whatever you want. We aren’t your keepers, Shy-girl. We’re your lovers.”

Beast just grins. “We can take it slow. One step at a time. The main thing is that you’re comfortable and happy with us.”

I nod. “One c-condition.”

“Name it,” Beast says.

“You guys have to pick up your socks.”

Muscle tilts his head, as if he didn’t hear me quite right.

Beast snorts, probably because he’s the worst culprit of the sock-discarding.

And I can’t help it. I burst into a fit of giggles.

“I think that is what’s called ‘yanking our chain’, Cal,” Muscle says.

“She can do that,” Beast says, eyes narrowed at me. “I know where all her ticklish spots are.”

I squeal and try to bolt away, but two sets of arms grab me and hold me down, and then I’m being tickled endlessly and I’m laughing and screaming at their maddening touches. All the while, Beast pins my arms and shows Muscle just where to tickle me to get the most effect, until I’m breathless and aching and so, so happy I can’t stand it.

“Here,” Muscle says after a long minute. “Let her catch her breath.” He’s grinning and looks happy, too. So carefree. So pleased with himself that my heart swells with affection for him. I glance over at Beast, still smiling, and notice that there’s a heated look in his eyes that I’ve come to recognize quite well.

And all of a sudden, my ticklishness turns into something else. I’m unable to look away as Beast frees my arms, only to take one hand in his. He lifts it to his mouth and kisses my palm.

I suck in a breath.

Then, he takes my hand and moves it to his cock, hard and raging beneath his jeans.

I want this, I realize. I want all of this. I want both of these men, and I want to love them the way they deserve to be loved. And I want them to love me the way I deserve to be loved, too. So I run my hand up and down the length of Beast’s erection even as I lean in so he can kiss me.

“Come a long damn way for a virgin,” Muscle mutters as he drags me back against him. Then, he’s seating me in his lap and pushing my thighs apart so I’m riding his cock with my spine pressed to his stomach. Beast moves forward and we continue to kiss, his mouth nibbling on mine sweetly even as Muscle reaches between us and cups my breasts. “You ready for everything we can give you, Shy-girl?”

I nod and run my hands through Beast’s longer hair. Muscle keeps his fairly short, but oh, Beast has gorgeous, shoulder-length black hair that feels like silk against my skin. “I want it all,” I tell them both. “Want everything you can give me.”

“Then we should move upstairs,” Muscle says even as Beast and I continue to kiss. His hands tweak my nipples. “Because that’s where the lube is, and we’re going to need it.”

It kills me to have to detangle from them, to leave Beast’s caressing lips and the feel of Muscle wrapped around me. But I’ll get them again soon enough, and I tell my greedy mind to be patient. We go up the stairs, Muscle leading the way, Beast trailing behind, and me walking between them, a hand clasped in each man’s. We’re like a chain. A silly, incredibly aroused chain. I stifle a giggle at that mental image because I’m not sure they would understand what I’m laughing at.

Then, we’re in Beast’s room, and the big bed is looming before us. I’m breathless with excitement. All week, I’ve been traded more or less back and forth. Other than that first occasion when Muscle licked me out and Beast stroked himself as he watched, we haven’t really done things together. I’m excited that we’re all going to partake this time, even though I’m a little concerned how it’s all going to work out. After all, both of my men are supremely well equipped and I’m tiny. But I’m sure it can be done. It’s just my still-used-to-being-virginal mind thinking that things won’t fit.

Then there’s no more time for thinking. Muscle gives me a gentle push toward the bed and I sit on the edge, then reach for his belt. “I want you both naked for me,” I whisper, feeling awkward. It’s not like me to demand. But tonight feels important.

Muscle just grins. “How about you undress us then, Shy-girl?”

I nod and get to work. I unbuckle Muscle’s belt, then shove his pants down. His boxers are already taut with his erection, and I blush as I ease them down his thighs, his cock grazing my cheek as I do so.

“Hmm,” he says thoughtfully, then looks at Beast. “Have we introduced her to the wonders of sucking cock yet? I don’t think we have.”

“Tonight seems like a good time to learn,” Beast agrees. “You up for it, Cheyenne?”

My eyes widen. He’s called me by my full name. It feels...strange to hear. But I nod. I love the thought of pleasing both of these men with my mouth. I stand up and help Muscle drag his shirt off, and then he’s naked, his body tight and compact with muscle. I love looking at him, the masculine beauty of his form. He could be sculpted out of bronze, like in one of those old statues, he’s so perfect. Only his club tats mar his perfection.

He steps out of his clothes and then pulls me in for a hard, firm kiss, then releases me with a smack to the ass. “Go undress my boy, Beast,” he tells me and heads to the bathroom, presumably to get condoms.

I turn to Beast, who’s eating me up with his dark eyes. His face is so serious, unlike Muscle’s laughing and teasing, but he still leaves me breathless when he looks at me. I start with Beast’s shirt, because I want to run my hands over his enormous barrel chest. There’s something erotic about his sheer size, and I enjoy touching him over and over again, dragging my fingers over every inch of inked bronze flesh.

Of course, my hands naturally slide down to his belt, and then lower, to the length pushing against denim. My hands fumble a little as I undo his belt, because I want him naked
right now
. And when he springs free from the fabric of his briefs, I give a happy little sigh at the sight of him, all veined and dusky with arousal. He’s so big and...juicy. There’s really no other word for it. My mouth waters and I want to take him into my mouth, to have him and Muscle teach me how to please them. How to make them feel good, the way they make me feel good when they lick me until I’m creaming.

I reach for him, and he stops me, which makes me whimper with frustration.

“No,” he says softly, “We want you naked.”

“Wearing nothing but our property patch,” Muscle amends, returning to the room. He’s got a big, familiar bottle with him and a pack of condoms. “You’d look mighty sweet like that.”

I love the idea. I quickly undress while both men watch me, and when I’m naked, I take the vest and put it on, feeling sexier than I’ve ever been...at least until I realize that the vest is about three times as big as it should be. It hangs down crazily. “It doesn’t fit.”

“Nonsense. It’s perfect,” Muscle tells me. “Now, bend over and take Beast’s cock in your mouth, and I’ll tell you all about how to suck him, Shy-girl.”

I feel a blush heating my cheeks, but Muscle’s crass words excite me. I get even more excited when I bend over and he puts a hand between my legs, stroking the lips of my pussy.

“She’s already wet, just thinking about sucking you, Cal,” Muscle says, pleasure in his tone. His fingers glide through my juices and begin to rub me in my most sensitive areas, then push deep into my cunt. “Wet and tight and so damn good already. Doesn’t take much to excite you, does it, Shy-girl? You just get all hot and bothered thinking about Beast and his great big cock, don’t you?”

I do, I really do.

I lean forward a bit more, and as I do, Beast steps toward me. His cock brushes up against my mouth, an invitation if there ever was one. His hand grips his length at the root, and I feel like he’s arrowing directly for my mouth. So I take him between my lips and run my tongue along the crown, feeling the heat of his skin and the scent of him envelop me.