by Ella Goode
This time I ride behind Michigan and I get that they want me to trade off which makes sense. We arrive at a rundown house in a bad neighborhood. Decay shows in the peeling paint, the trampled grass and the black plastic bags taped over the window openings. Inside the house smells stale. Cigarette smoke, spilled beer and I’m not sure what else. Michigan looks like he wants to lift me up and carry me out.
There’s no actual show like at the granary but there are women here with short shorts and tight tank tops that haveHarley across the top.
They are busting out and I’m feeling my own lack distinctly. Feeling quite shy and out of place in my tight new jeans and T-shirt. I have my leather cuff on each wrist though. One from Michigan and one from Easy and those pieces of leather provide a lot of comfort. No one else is wearing one so I wonder if this is just a Death Lords thing. Another girl is wearing a smaller leather cut which has a patch that says "Property of Can Can."
A guy about my age pops up when we step across the threshold. Easy taps the offered fist and nods but says nothing. Instead he and Michigan are taking in everything.
"Thanks for coming. Can I get you something?" the boy asks awkwardly.
"Beer’s fine," Michigan says.
"And for your…girl?"
“Beer’s fine for her too.”
A jerk of his chin and another guy, not wearing a leather vest, runs up with three bottles. Everyone else here has a plastic cup. I guess it's a sign of respect.
“You got this?” Easy asks. After Michigan nods, Easy disappears with the boy who greeted us. Michigan takes my hand and walks into the living room. Even the drunk people understand to step out of his way. We find an empty table toward the back and Michigan rests against it, placing me between his legs.
“What’s going on?”
“He’s going to talk to the club pres. He’s about twenty-five and inherited a bad deal. There are older men here that are too dumb to lead, but not interested in following either.”
The beer is cold but I’m not used to the taste so I set it aside.
Michigan chuckles.
“Are you laughing at me?”
“Myself,” he says. “I’ve all sorts of misconceptions and assumptions and you’re blowing them all away.”
“In a good way?”
“The best.”
He leans down and kisses my neck which makes me crazy. Someone cranks up the stereo and the bass thumps up through the thin floorboards. Once the music begins, the girls start dancing. They writhe together in sinuous and sexy forms reminding me of the strippers at the granary. It’s dark in here and it’s more shapes than anything, hints at eroticism instead of an outright display of flesh.
“Would you like to put on a show here?” Michigan whispers in my ear.
The thought makes me squirm. Seeing all those eyes on me? Feeling like the only hot thing in the room, hotter than the other girls with their big breasts and their tight booty-baring shorts? Yes, yes, I would like to put on a show. “There’s no shame in your body. You have a beautiful body.”
One large hand spans my belly and he moves it upward to cup one small breast, dragging my shirt up. His other hand is on my hip and his fingers are large enough that he can press the tips against my most sensitive areas. The denim bites into my flesh causing me to squeeze that spot between my legs that seems to throb whenever I'm within a twenty-foot radius of my men.
His mouth is doing naughty things on my shoulder. Behind me, nestled into the hollow of my bottom, is his huge erection.
My eyes flutter shut and in my imagination, I see myself dancing but it’s not a crowd in the audience, it’s just Easy and Michigan. They watch me with hungry eyes until their passion overtakes them and they grab me, throwing me on a magically appearing bed.
There’s a commotion in front of me. I open my eyes and see a man with longish hair, the exact color I can’t make out in the dark, staring at me with hot, hungry eyes. I know that look and it’s the look I’ve seen directed at those women. And suddenly the idea of being on display doesn’t excite me as much. I straighten and Michigan’s hand instantly falls away.
My sudden boldness is replaced by awkward discomfort. Michigan settles me into his side.
“You sharing?” the man asks.
Michigan places a hand on my neck. “No.”
No argument. No explanation. Just no.
The guy stands there and stares, his eyes taking off my new clothes and it makes me feel kind of dirty and not in a good way. Michigan takes a menacing step forward and he runs off.
“Sometimes fantasies work real well in your head and not so great playing them out.” Michigan continues to hold my neck, massaging me into a relaxed puddle of flesh. How he reads me so well continually is a surprise.
“How do you know which fantasies work and which don’t?” I ask. He hoists himself onto the table and pulls me onto his lap. I curl up like a kitten and rest my head against the broad wall of his chest.
“You test them out, just like we did here.”
“I wouldn’t want to share you and Easy with anyone but you’d be okay with me dancing nude in front of others?”
“Not really. I’d probably have to have one of the brothers sit on me, but these are your fantasies and I want you to enjoy yourself. Ultimately, you getting turned on would probably turn me on.”
“I was jealous of the attention those girls were getting, I guess. I’ve never been looked at like that.”
“Being watched is a turnoff for lots of folks and there are some, like Easy, that really get off on watching. Nothing wrong with either thing. But the only person I’d ever share with is Easy.” He rubs a hand down my back and continues thoughtfully, “I don’t even want a woman touching you. Having you dance? Having other guys look at you? If that made you feel good, then sure, but touching belongs to me and Easy, yeah?”
I like his possessiveness mixed with his willingness to see me satisfied but I really only would ever need their eyes, their lust and their attention. “Yeah.” I echo his words but put all my conviction behind it. Even in the dark, I can see the answering spark in his eyes. Our connection isn’t broken even when he pulls out his phone, and types something one-handed.
Easy appears as if Michigan conjured him.
“Ready?” he asks.
“Not staying?” says one of the men.
Easy takes one look at me and shakes his head. “Our girl’s worn out.”
“Thought you guys were Death Lords, not Bedlam Butchers,” jokes someone.
“Can you read?” Easy asks, his good humor gone.
“Yeah.”
“Then you know what club we’re with.”
The hecklers shut up immediately and don't say another word as we exit.
“Who are the Butchers?” I ask as I buckle my helmet on.
“Good club out of New Mexico. They’re into sharing. Do everything in pairs.”
“But we’re Death Lords.”
“You’re mine,” I say unthinking.
Michigan and Easy exchange a look. “Yeah, we are.”
When we get back to the room, Easy directs me to take a long bath. He walks in and tosses the leather chaps and a T-shirt on the sink.
“Why don’t you model these for us.”
After I dry off, I realize that the chaps have a waistband and legs but the front of my pelvis and my butt are totally exposed. I search around but find no panties, only the dark gold T-shirt. I don't believe this is a test but an invitation to play and so I screw up my courage and don the chaps and T-shirt. Straightening my shoulders, I walk out as normally as a woman who is totally exposed in her privates can.
In the bedroom, Michigan and Easy are sitting side by side on the sofa. Halfway across the room, the music starts and I catch on. This is my show, if I want to do one.
I start to sway, hoping I don’t look like a fool. Encouraged by their appreciate gazes, I run my hands along my sides and up to catch my breasts. I cup my breasts and then lift the T-sh
irt off so all I’m wearing is the leather chaps. I slink to the ground and then back up, turning, bending over.
I'm rewarded with swift intakes of breath and when I spin around I see their glittering gazes and the large ridges in their jeans. Their approval emboldens me and I fall into the sexy music. I touch my nipples, stretch my arms above my head, arch my back and then drop my hand between my legs where I'm already ready and wet.
“Place your hands on my legs here and point that ass toward Michigan," Easy orders. Michigan has resettled into the desk chair which he wheels over to the sofa.
I lean over, knowing my ass is entirely exposed. Michigan smooths his hands over my globes and then with a hard push directs me toward Easy's now exposed penis. I lick it from tip to base, tonguing the heavy veins. Michigan lifts me so that my knees are on his legs.
"Take him deep." Michigan's voice is dark and throaty but he has no more orders because his tongue is making long treks between my legs.
I open my mouth and swallow Easy's thick penis until it hits the back of my throat. I'm stuffed full of them. Michigan's mouth is relentless, sucking me until I'm out of my mind and Easy's shaft is stroking down into the cavern of my throat. I drink him seed down and as soon as Easy's done coming, Michigan shifts and rams his long, hard rod between my legs and into my butt. Incredibly, Easy is hard again or maybe he never fully softened. I don't know anything anymore.
Michigan stands and Easy grabs my dangling legs. He proceeds to work into my sex until I'm stretched and full on all sides. My body is burning and the only place I can quench the fire is through the touch of these men. Somehow we maneuver to the bed where I straddle Easy while Michigan's big body covers my back.
My breasts nearly suffocate Easy, and Michigan's hands almost break the headboard as we whirl inside the tornado of pleasure created by the endlessly thrusts and strokes, the mindless kisses, and the fervent promises to hold each other forever.
I close my eyes and allow their strong hands hold me and their fierce need to wrench from me the greatest ecstasy I could ever imagine. I've been a good girl all my life and I feel as if I've been rewarded a slice of heaven on earth.
In the aftermath, I rest between the two large bodies but can’t sleep. Thoughts of how I’m going to tell Father, how I will weather the inevitable storm of disapproval, and how I will support myself make it hard to fall asleep. There are big changes coming in my life. Some will be wonderful and some may be scary. The only thing I can hold on to is this one thought—you'd have to kill me before I'd ever leave these men.
“Sleep, Little Red.” Easy’s husky voice jolts me as I thought they were both asleep.
Michigan’s head lifts from his pillow to press a kiss against my cheek. “There isn’t a thing that prevents us from being together if it’s something we all want.”
“I want us,” I say thickly. Emotion makes it hard to speak.
“I want us.” Easy lifts my right cuffed wrist and with an answering nod, Michigan lifts my other wrist.
They bring the cuffs together and I swear I hear an audible click even though the magnets are silent. Maybe it’s just the sound of the universe slotting everything in place. With their hands wrapped around my wrists, with their cuffs against my chest, and their hearts beating in solid rhythm with mine, I finally drift off.
I am my beloveds’ and my beloveds are mine.
Their Fierce Love
Love ain't simple, easy, or uncomplicated, but it's damn good.
Easy and Michigan fought together in the Marines and have shared women ever since. Lots of ladies are down for a one night stand but they haven't found one who was willing stay the course with both of them...until they meet untried pastor's daughter, Annie Bloom.
But a few nights of stolen passion aren't enough for the three of them. The two men set out to prove to Annie that they're worth a lifetime of love.
Their fragile new relationship is threatened when Annie's father learns the truth and soon the struggle to stay together becomes one of life or death.
Chapter Eleven
Annie
The second time I wake this morning is due to the sunlight filtering through a small break in the windows. The murmurs of deep male voices punctuated by a low chuckle push me to open my eyes but I stay still under the sheet and comforter that is tucked around me so that I can watch the two men sitting only ten feet away. Easy, with his Norwegian ancestry stamped all over his square jaw and straight bladed nose, is lounging on the green sofa with his eyes glued on the television. One ankle is resting on his opposite knee and his arms are spread across the back. He looks relaxed and his face is sporting an ever-present smile. Easy is just like his name. He approaches life as if there are no barriers—or at least none that he can’t kick down with his size 13 boots. But in the face of his beauty, it wouldn’t surprise me if barriers didn’t exist for him.
Look at me. I feel like a ripe apple without him so much as shaking the tree. He only had to open his mouth and say my name and I was jumping on the back of his motorcycle ready to follow him anywhere.
That’s not the entire story. No, the other half is seated at the chair at the desk. Michigan, the other Death Lords enforcer, has a menacing piece of black metal in one hand and a soft gray cloth in the other. He’s cleaning a gun while he watches the same television show. I cast a glance toward the flickering screen and see a bunch of people fixing up a car.
Michigan’s appeal is harsher, wilder than Easy’s. His angular jaw and prominent cheekbones are softened by lush lips that would make a supermodel sigh in jealousy. And she’d likely spend at least a few restless nights wondering exactly how they’d feel against her skin.
I know.
I know that they are soft but can kiss with bruising determination.
I know that their touch can bring me to an emotional high I didn’t even know existed.
I know that being the subject of these two men’s intense affection has rendered me a wholly different person.
A few weeks ago, I was ordinary Annie Bloom, only daughter of the Fortune Methodist pastor. Now I am something new.
What? I’m not entirely sure but I want to find out because this is what I want to see every morning—my two men enjoying each other’s company as I lie in bed wrecked from their attention.
The sun rose about three hours ago. I know this because when Easy woke me with his fingers between my legs, his mouth on my neck, dawn light filtered in between the crack in the hotel curtains. My body woke up hungry and aching and they satisfied me before I even had to voice my need.
The rosy glow made Michigan’s brown eyes look like burnished gold. He watched Easy ready me for the invasion of both their bodies and tugged on his own erection.
Then he took my mouth, kissing me more softly and sweetly than I’d anticipated. When I came in a flood around Easy’s fingers, Michigan swallowed my cries of pleasure.
Easy used my arousal and extra lubrication to wet the puckered skin and tight channel of my rear. He slowly fed his penis inside me and I gasped at each thrust until he was fully seated. He rolled onto his back, bringing me with him and then Michigan straddled both of us. I laid pinned between their bodies, their hard erections shafting me in steady perfect rhythm.
Easy held my hips between his large hands and moved me as he thrust. Michigan gripped the headboard so hard I marveled that part of the wooden frame didn’t break off in his hands. His pelvis rubbed against my clitoris with each forward movement and there was no part of my sex that was not completely possessed by their bodies.
If Michigan hadn’t been kissing me when I came, I might have screamed down the hotel. I was in a daze afterward, barely feeling them withdraw. I vaguely remember them both kissing me and someone applying a warm washcloth between my legs before I rolled over, closed my eyes and fell into a deep sated sleep.
I could lie here all day and watch them but all too soon my ogling is cut short when Michigan rises and sets the gun on the desk. He wipes his hands on anot
her cloth and then stalks over to the bed.
“You hungry?”
He's a mountain of hard flesh. In his worn jeans and tight T-shirt, he could star in a calendar of hot men. Both of them could. I'm not certain what they do but they are physically fit with defined ridges and valleys in their abdomens and biceps that bulge under the end of the T-shirt sleeves. My fingers itch to touch them at all times. I curl them into the sheets to keep from grabbing at Michigan but maybe…maybe I shouldn't work so hard to not touch them because the look in Michigan's eyes is one I'm beginning to recognize. It's a hungry look. A hot one. One that says, "I'm ready to devour you."
Easy’s head swivels in my direction. “You’re awake. Want us to order something for you? Room service takes about five fucking years.”
I gather the covers around my bare body. "Should I get ready?"
“Nope. We’re not in any hurry.”
There’s no accusation that I’ve slept too long or kept them from doing something important. They just want to take care of me. How can I resist?
I stretch and the comforter that one of them had placed around my body slips down, taking the sheet with it. The tops of my small breasts appear and Michigan gives an approving grunt.
He takes one large finger and runs it from the hollow of my throat down between the valley of my breasts, bisecting me in two. With one hand he draws the sheet down, all the while dragging his finger downward. It smooths over my rounded belly, dips into my belly button and then pauses at the top of my soft curls. I hold my breath.
"You feeling okay?" His deep voice is hoarse, tinged with a little regret as if he's sorry for wanting me. I love how it makes me feel because I'm as desperate for him as he is for me.
"Yes." I kick the sheets down in answer. The cool air of the room causes goose bumps to freckle my skin. Or maybe it's the response of my body to his hot gaze as it roves over the newly exposed flesh. His frank appreciation emboldens me and I allow my knees to fall open. His chest heaves as he stares. The one finger he has on my skin hasn't moved but I'm growing wetter, hotter by the second.