Packing Double: A Bedlam Butchers MC Romance (The Motorcycle Clubs Book 5) (4 page)

“Nope,” I say, peering around at the house. “But I like a challenge.”

“A challenge,” Domino chuckles. “I like you, honey. You’ve got a fun mind.”

I just grin at him. It’s hard not to be at ease when Domino smiles at you.

The house is spotless inside, which makes me feel a lot more relaxed. The interior is done in a vaguely western motif, with big leather couches, wrought-iron decorations on the stucco walls, and a cheery saltillo tile. It looks more like a dude ranch than a biker haven. I wander through the kitchen, noting the clean appliances and marble countertops, and then start opening doors to satisfy my curiosity.

“Make yourself at home,” Gemini says gruffly.

I plan on it. Mostly because I’ve gone with two strangers out into the middle of nowhere so we can fuck, and I’m going to make sure there’s nothing crazy going on. The fact that they’re letting me explore to my leisure is a big point in their favor, though. That means they have nothing to hide. So I open closets and guest bathrooms to my heart’s content. I see one bedroom that has a few masculine touches and a guitar in the corner. The next room is a bit messier, with a TV on a dresser and some photographs on the walls. The bed is unmade. When I find the master bedroom, I’m confused all over again. The bed is massive, with a padded leather headboard and a thick golden coverlet. More Southwest art decorates the walls, and there are three pillows intended for three heads. This must be where Domino and Gemini sleep.

So if that’s the case, who’s sleeping in the other rooms?

I walk back out to the kitchen, perturbed. Domino’s getting a beer from the fridge and Gem’s leaning against the counter, all tension despite his casual pose. “There’s three bedrooms.”

“Lots of houses have three bedrooms,” Gem says in that growly voice of his.

“No, I mean, who’s sleeping in all these rooms? I assume you two have the master, so—”

“You sure do ask a lot of questions,” Gemini tells me. Domino simply takes a swig of his beer.

“Darn right. Two’s company, three’s a crowd. Four means I don’t have enough holes for this party.”

At my words, Domino spews beer all over the counter, and then wipes his mouth, laughing. “Damn, she’s got a sassy mouth,” he says to Gemini.

Gemini’s still stone faced, but I’m pretty sure his expression has softened a bit as he regards me. “Master bedroom’s only used when we have ‘company’ over.”

Ah. I can guess what kind of company that is. “Female company,” I state.

“Ayup,” Gemini says. “We don’t snuggle otherwise.”

“Yeah, Gem’s a fan of sticking his cold feet on you,” Domino says with a teasing look. Gem merely reaches over and socks him in the arm.

“So the three of us are bunking in the master?” I ask, curious.

“For the foreseeable future,” Gemini says.

I blink in surprise at that. “I thought this was a hookup.”

Gemini strides forward, grabs one of my bright red pigtails, and flicks it over my shoulder. He studies me in a hot, sultry way that makes my skin feel as if I’m being caressed, even though he hasn’t touched me. “We don’t hook up.” His hand moves to the back of my neck and he pulls me closer, until my hands go to the front of his cut and he’s so close I can smell his skin. And he smells really damn good. “Dom and I, we see something we like, and we claim it.”

I lick my lips, my focus on his mouth that’s mere inches from mine. “Well, that’s going to stop if you’re keeping me.”

He raises an eyebrow at me. “You think you can boss us around?”

“In the bedroom? Yes.”

This time, Gemini’s mouth quirks on one side in an almost-smile, and I like seeing that. I’ll break him down yet. “You plan on bossing me in bed, Kitty?”

I plan on doing all kinds of filthy things in bed, actually, and I’m just about to say so when my traitorous stomach growls. Both men look at me, and I sigh. “Well, that’s embarrassing.”

“When’s the last time you ate?” Domino asks.

“Three?”

“Damn, girl, it’s one in the morning and you worked all night.” Domino immediately pulls out a skillet and opens the fridge. “We need to get some protein in you so you’ve got energy for tonight.” He tosses a carton of eggs on the counter. “Gem, you too?”

“Ayup,” Gem says. “Thanks, man.”

“No sweat.” Dom starts to crack eggs in a bowl, and pulls out a green pepper and some mushrooms, and starts to chop them. “We’ll make you an omelet, Kitty, unless you want something else.”

“An omelet would be awesome,” I tell him. I’m a little touched by his concern. My last boyfriend never cared. Even if I worked twelve hours, he’d always ask me to fix him a sandwich, not the other way around. It’s nice to sit at the big wooden table across from Gemini and have someone wait on me instead of the other way around.

Dom keeps the conversation flowing while he tosses food into the skillet and then stirs it. He’s an amusing guy, with a quick wit and an ever-ready arsenal of topics. Gemini’s the quieter one, only occasionally chipping in to the conversation, but I know he’s taking in all of it. He just chooses not to chat if he doesn’t have to. Then, Domino presents the food and we tuck in. It’s every bit as delicious as it smelled, and I inhale mine in a matter of minutes. It strikes me as a strange scenario—I’ve gone home with two men who promised to fuck me silly and instead they’re fixing me food at one in the morning. But I don’t mind, because breakfast was incredible. I eat every bite and sip the bottle of water I have at my side.

The men eat just as fast as I do (thank goodness) and then Gem takes the plates and puts them in the sink. It’s like they have their own little system going. Domino cooks and Gemini cleans up after him. I watch them for a moment and I wonder why they’re named what they are. “So...what’s with the names?”

Domino just grins at me over his shoulder as he puts away the ingredients back in the fridge. “Road names, babe.”

“Yeah, but why are you Domino?”

“Cuz when I was in Iraq, me and the boys used to play a fair amount. And I always won.” Dom shuts the fridge and gives me a cocky look.

“And cuz he didn’t want to be called ‘Cheater’,” Gem grumbles. “Cuz that’s the only other thing he did half as much. He cheated at dominos.”

Dom just winks at me.

“So you guys served together?”

“Yup,” Dom says.

I look over at Gemini. “So how’d you get your name?”

Gem just gives me an arch smile.

“He doubles up on everything,” Dom says, ruining the suspense. Gem elbows him.

I giggle. I’m enjoying their teasing camaraderie.

“So,” Gem says. “How come you’re called Kitty if your real name’s Tamra?”

I’m actually called Kitty because I used to meow at people when I was a kid (I was a ham). But I simply grin at Gem and lift my water bottle to take another sip. “Why am I Kitty? Because I like to be petted?”

Gem’s eyes darken with interest. “Drink fast, because we’re about to fuck the hell out of you.”

Oh, hello raging hormones. I take another sultry sip of my water and then put the lid on the bottle. “I want to brush my teeth. Can I steal your bathroom?”

“As long as you promise not to take too long,” Dom murmurs.

“You two brush your teeth, also,” I tell them, using my best sassy voice. “I plan on making good use of those tongues.” And I saunter away before we can get carried away, because I really do want to brush my teeth. Nothing will kill the mood faster than kissing leftovers. I head to the bathroom in the master suite, and lock the door. Now I can snoop to my heart’s content. I poke through drawers and cabinets, looking for red flags. Things like herpes meds, or a box of tampons are definite red flags. But there’s nothing in here but aftershave, soap, toothpaste, and the biggest bottle of lube I’ve ever seen.

All righty, then. These men mean business. And that excites me, honestly. They’ve been utterly forward with their wants, and I’m excited at the prospect of seeing things through. I grab the tube of toothpaste, squirt a line onto my finger, and then finger brush with enthusiasm, followed up by mouthwash. As I do, I hear the two men talking and they’ve entered the other room. They’re just waiting on me now.

When I’m minty fresh, I ponder my entrance. I want to show these men that I can hang with their sexy games. That I’m not overwhelmed despite being a double-penetration virgin. So I strip out of my panties and my flippy little skirt. I take off my top and my bra, and set my clothes in a neat pile. I remove my shoes, wiggle my toes, and then study my naked body in the mirror. The only thing I’m still wearing are my ponytail holders. Those can go, too, I decide, and tug them free.

I touch a hand to the trimmed curls between my legs. God, I am positively soaked with excitement. I’m practically squirming with anticipation as I unlock the door and then open it.

Since I have a flair for the dramatic, I pose in the entryway of the bathroom. My hands push against the doorframe and I cock one hip, and let them look their fill at me. I have a decent face, but I know I’ve got a great body. Genetics have been awesome to me, and my breasts are a good size with small, upturned nipples. My figure is more hourglass than anything, and I’ve got a great, firm ass built like a shelf. I’m also a natural redhead. Maybe all of those things make up for my pimpled, braces-ridden teenage years. Whatever it is, I’m rocking things now.

Both men stare as I pose. I flutter my lashes and I’m pleased to see Gem swipe a hand over his mouth as if wiping away drool. Domino’s just grinning like a madman.

“So,” I say casually. “Shall we get started?”

“Damn, I like the way you roll,” Dom says. He begins to pull off his clothing even though Gem just stands there, gazing at me with hooded eyes. Then, he reaches for his cut, too.

“Nu-uh,” I say as they start to undress. “I want to unwrap you two like presents.” And I stride forward. “You just stand there and look pretty.”

I head for Dom first, since I get the vibe that he’s the laid back laughing one for a reason. I push his hands away from his cut and tug it off his shoulders, revealing a plain white shirt underneath and shoulders that seem broader than I originally thought. Well, hello mama. I carefully fold his cut over my arm and then hesitate. It’s covered in patches and the joker-over-crossed-swords of the Butchers. I don’t know much about the Lifestyle despite working in a biker bar the last 2 months, but I do know that a man’s cut is important. So I ask, “Where should I put this?”

“On the chair,” he tells me, scratching his chest through his t-shirt. His gaze is on my swaying breasts and he looks as if he wants to reach out and touch me, but he’s holding back. Good man. So I carefully place it on a nearby chair, and then head over to Gem. He’s so much harder to read than Domino is, but it just makes me eager to learn more about him. I stand in front of him to slide my hands under his cut and push it off his shoulders, and the movements let my breasts sway against his chest. He’s wearing a dark plain t-shirt and I wonder for a moment if they dress like this on purpose—good cop/bad cop. But that seems far too deliberate. I treat his cut with the same care that I gave to Domino’s and then turn back to them, tapping a finger on my lips as I pretend to consider what to remove from their bodies next. “Now, shall I go straight to pants, or should I savor things and continue on with accessories?”

“Do we get a vote?” Dom asks with a grin.

“Just for that, let’s go with accessories,” I say in a teasing voice, and wag a naughty finger at him.

I move around the men and divest them of belts, then shoes, then socks. Neither one is wearing jewelry, so there’s nothing to strip down there. I go for shirts next, making sure to run my hands over their beautiful bodies while I pull them free. I can’t help it—I love a big, strong male body taut with muscle, and I’ve got two of them right in front of me, just begging to be touched.

Domino’s first, of course. I started with him. His shirt peels off of his sleek, muscled chest and I’m pleased by the sight of him. His chest is hairy across his pectorals, but it tapers down to a thin line that disappears below the waistband of his jeans and teases me for more. He’s got big arms, big shoulders, and a surprisingly lean waist. I drag my fingers over his skin, delighted by what I see. He’s yummy, all right, but he knows it. It’s evident in the big, cocky grin he always wears across his face. Across his back, he’s got the inks of the club, and it covers him from neck to tailbone. His shoulders read BEDLAM BUTCHERS. Across his lower back is NEW MEXICO. It’s the only tattoo he has, though.

My fingers trail over his body and then I move to Gemini in his dark shirt and his closed expression. Our game feels light and a bit silly—after all, I’m naked and undressing these men and I don’t even know their real names. Nor have we kissed. But Gemini always looks so intense that anything that might seem trivial suddenly isn’t. And I recall Domino’s words from earlier—that they don’t fuck around much. Seeing Gemini’s focused look, I believe it. And I’m even more flattered.

Even before I tug Gemini’s shirt free of his waistband, I know he’s going to be covered in tattoos. They crawl up his arms, two loud sleeves of black ink. His back is covered with an identical tattoo to Domino, and his front is crisscrossed with a mural of different things—a death’s head, a joker, a gun, some tribal looking symbol I don’t recognize, and a horseshoe. All of that is centered on his right side, because his left is a mass of scar tissue. I blink in surprise at the sight of it, and can’t help but run a hand over him. It’s clear he’s been stitched up from a massive wound. Even the muscle dips in here. I glance at his back and notice there’s a matching wound on that side, but smaller. All right, the front is the exit wound, then. “Iraq?” I ask.

“Ayup,” Gemini says, his voice gruff. His hand laces into my hair again, but he’s only running his fingers through it. “Dom saved my life. Been closer than brothers ever since.”

And of course, the whole club-in-pairs thing suddenly makes sense. A brother to watch your back at all times. It’s a little out of the ordinary to fuck a girl with your buddy, but I’ve heard of stranger things. I think it’s kind of sweet, actually. Sweet and a bit erotic. “It’s a good thing you’re not like brothers,” I tease. “Because then it’d be creepy if you fucked together. Or do you want to call me ‘Sissy’ next?”