Red Hot Bikers, Rock Stars and Bad Boys

by Cassia Leo

  He sucked in a breath, gut punched. He’d known, but it had never been said out loud. So simply, so plainly. Krist turned his face into the pillow, trying and failing to hide the look of longing. The desperate want. Lock couldn't ignore it; it was so much like his own.

  Would it break them, to do this? Break him? No contract. No plan. Just taking.

  Hailey squeezed his hand again and then brushed her fingers over Krist’s cheek. He leaned into her touch, and their eyes met. It was like writing a song together, this connection. Fumbling toward the chorus, a jumble of noise, and then yes, of course, music. Loud and violent, but theirs. Hailey smoothing the harsh edges. A bridge.

  He’d loved Krist for what felt like his whole life. He could give him this.

  *

  Hailey ran her fingers down Lock’s forearm, light touches meant to soothe. He was coming apart right in front of her. She knew how to reach him, though, with some ancient instinct. It wasn’t even a woman to a man. It was a light in the dark, water running over rock until it lost its jagged edge. She was the water here—the fluid, transient thing. The one who would be gone soon enough.

  But Lock, God. He was a rock, from the tension of his body and the clench of his jaw. And the impenetrable walls he’d built around him, falling down, crumbling.

  “You want both of us?” Lock asked tightly. At the same time, he meant. The shadowed space between them. Those jagged edges come to life.

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  A black eyebrow rose, shining onyx in the dark. “Are you sure? You sound afraid.”

  Said the Pied Piper to his subjects.

  But she wasn’t afraid, not really. This was what she’d signed up for. This was why she’d come, at least partly. To experience the wild, crazy things she’d never done before. To ignore the responsibility to her sister for three days. No, not afraid. She looked over the inky waters and wanted to drown.

  “I can handle you. Both of you.” Her voice was low and throaty, the song of a seductress. That was what he’d made of her. A siren. A mermaid, and only when he dragged her under would she finally be able to breathe.

  “Turn around.” He twisted his fingers to show her. “Put your back against Krist. Let him support you.”

  Let him support you. Because Lock wouldn’t.

  Krist scooted against the headboard, unashamed in his nakedness. His muscled legs sprawled open across the rumpled bedsheets, dark against light. He was a picture of indolent relaxation, of sumptuous invitation, and she would have believed it. Would have, if she hadn’t reclined against him and felt the rat-a-tat-tat of his heart. A machine gun in his chest, the prelude to devastation.

  His cock was thick against the small of her back, nudging insistently with a wet, scribbled line. But that was nothing new. These two were perpetually hard—especially around each other. Didn’t they know? Didn’t they see the furtive glances passed from one man to another? Like notes between classes, those glances. Do you like me? Check yes or no.

  “That’s right.” Lock stroked his cock, and it distracted her.

  She couldn’t help but stare at the proud length of him. Paper-thin skin rolled over his cock, back and forth, caressing the veined muscle underneath. The head curved, plump and glistening—good enough to eat. She could almost taste him on her tongue, both the salty flavor and the velvet-smooth texture. He knew exactly what she was thinking, judging by his smug expression. And from the way his grip tightened, knuckles turning white.

  “Hold her legs.” He didn’t move his gaze from hers while he spoke to Krist. Maybe he couldn’t. In those molten depths she found the doubt he had to hide. She picked up his fears like Easter eggs and collected them in her basket. And carefully broke each one open.

  Krist obeyed Lock; of course he did. He hooked his arms underneath her knees, spreading her apart. Without her legs to support her, she slid down his chest, feeling the abrasion of chest hair on her back. Her whole front was exposed, from her flushed cheeks to the damp folds of her sex.

  Lock gave himself a few more pulls, rough ones, before joining them. The wicked look in his eyes made her clench around nothing. His gaze focused in on that pink, swollen place. His nostrils flared. Then he dipped his head and licked. Her mind went blank at the first wet touch of his tongue. Any worry or embarrassment was far away, tiny specks on the shoreline. They couldn’t touch her where she floated in bliss.

  Each swipe of his tongue made her hips curl up. The helpless undulation of her body pushed against Krist, and he groaned. Again and again, Lock made them writhe. He held them both on the tip of his tongue, like puppets on a string. With Lock as their master, where he was always content to be. Safe, she realized.

  Pulling herself out of the drugging sensations, she reached for him. Her fingers tangled in his hair, and then she tugged—hard. His head came up at her command, and hazy eyes slowly focused on hers.

  “Fuck me,” she said hoarsely. Because she wanted to tighten around something and his fingers wouldn’t do. Because even he couldn’t hide in his pleasure.

  He didn’t have to obey her. Put your hand over her mouth, he could have said. Krist would have obeyed, and so would she. But he reached to the nightstand and grabbed a condom.

  “Put it on me,” he said, shoving the packet into her hand.

  With trembling fingers she tore the package and fitted the latex to his cock. He stiffened at her first touch but stayed still as she rolled it on. Completely still, even though she sensed the electricity moving through him with every warm touch of her hand. A muscle jumped in his jaw. It was like watching someone bite through the pain. It was like hurting him.

  His finger dipped into her wetness and curled up. Checking her. Testing her. The empty foil wrapper fell from her nerveless fingers. Then his cock was there, pushing inside. And God. This position made her feel so full. He couldn’t really be larger now, but he was, he was. He filled her up and expanded outward, pressing against the walls of her sex.

  He pulled out, just a small ways. She braced herself, but the first deep thrust made her gasp anyway. Krist gasped too, swearing. Cursing them. His cock flexed behind her. He wanted inside somewhere. Inside her or inside the grip of Lock’s hand. Krist deserved that much, but all he had was the flat plane of her back. Every time Lock pushed inside her, she rocked back to meet him. He used her too, rocking her against him in rhythmic movements that matched his hips. They worked with the same beat, playing a song only they could hear.

  Lock kissed her. She was taken aback by the forcefulness of it. Even when he fucked her, when he spanked her, he kissed her tenderly. Always. He teased her mouth open and invited her to respond. Not this time. Now he claimed her. He plunged his tongue inside, invading her mouth the same way his cock did. His tongue felt somehow rougher now and burning ten thousand degrees.

  He pulled away—his kiss, his cock. And then in again, fucking her and kissing her in one long, sinuous motion. Krist was there, opening her wider, jacking off against her back. They moved together, a writhing sea of three bodies and one goal.

  Lock’s kisses were like waves on the shore, leaving only to return again. She couldn’t breathe in the interim. Didn’t know what to make of it. Rough, coarse kisses. Like he might use with a man. This time when he reached for her, she let her head fall on Krist’s shoulder. Lock wouldn’t have had to do anything. He could have kissed nothing. He could have fucked nothing if he really didn’t want to, but he did. Deep inside, he did.

  His expression must have warned Krist before his movements did. She felt the catch of breath from behind her. Lock leaned forward and took Krist’s mouth. Rough and coarse. She tried to watch, but she couldn’t. Couldn’t move. Couldn’t interfere. But she felt it anyway. It ran through her body like a tactile thing. Like getting fucked from one more, unseen angle, and she moaned, helpless and already sorry.

  It didn’t break them, though. Thank God, it didn’t break them. Lock groaned too, right into Krist’s mouth. And Krist was making small sounds, u
nformed words. Their movements sped up, frantic and jerky. They were going to come. She could feel Lock’s cock thickening inside her. Krist’s hands tightened on her legs.

  She couldn’t even breathe like this, pressed between their bodies. She gasped and tasted their arousal in the air, as if it flowed all around them in a psychedelic sexfest. A color burst of sensation, and she could do nothing but take it. And then pleasure gathered in her center and exploded. It radiated out to her limbs, blinding her and leaving her open.

  Lock came next with a hard thrust and a grunt that vibrated from his chest to hers. A sudden warmth on her hip came last as Krist followed them into climax. He lifted her once, twice more, using her body to wring the last of his orgasm onto her skin.

  *

  Hailey’s body was slick beneath him. He pulled out, pulled back. Krist still gripped her thighs so tightly she’d have finger-shaped bruises tomorrow. “Let her go.”

  Krist lifted his face from the crook of her neck, held Lock’s gaze as he slid his hands from her knees to her ass. Slow. Hailey’s legs dropped, and she slipped from the cradle of his arms. Boneless, she rolled off the bed and stumbled out of the room. A few seconds later the shower blasted. They’d have a few minutes without her pressed between them, pulling and pushing and urging. His pulse slowed as the endorphins leached out of his bloodstream. Crashing.

  “Are you done?” The bed creaked as Krist rolled onto his side, his voice a raw whisper.

  “You should go now, before she gets back.” The longer he and Krist were apart, the more he wanted this interlude over, the harder it was to remember why it had felt so right between the three of them.

  “You’re a bottomless pit. I just keeping going down further, and further, thinking this will be the end. This is where it stops. But the more I have, the deeper I get, the more I want. Shit you’ll never give me.”

  Lock knew that feeling, that terrible slide toward destruction. Seeing it reflected back at him made him feel hungover, like the bed was spinning and if he could just get his leg on solid ground, it might stop. “What do you want now?”

  “Quit fucking with me and just fuck me already. Or leave me the fuck alone.” Krist swung his legs over the side of the bed and grabbed for his pants, prickly hurt rolling off him in waves.

  “Stop.” Krist froze with his jeans bunched around his knees. Lock pushed down a knot of angry panic. “Did I tell you that you could leave?”

  “Well, you didn’t tell me to stay. And I’m not staying if you just want to use me to entertain your girlfriend.”

  Girlfriend stung. “I thought you liked being used.”

  Krist stood, zipping his pants. “As long as you keep doing it. Use me, fucking use me, but don’t shove me in a drawer afterward like some forgotten dildo.”

  The shower stopped. His pulse stuttered; he needed to finish this before Hailey came back out. He couldn’t let her smooth this over, scold them like unruly children unwilling to decide on a game to play. He chose the game. He made the rules.

  One shove and Lock had Krist flat on his back, bed bouncing beneath them. He yanked the still-unbuttoned jeans down his legs and left them tangled around Krist’s ankles. He watched as Krist’s cock hardened. The weight of his regard, the anticipation of what would follow the shove, was enough to bring Krist right up to the edge.

  Lock rolled him onto his belly and pinned him to the mattress with the length of his body. Wrapping his arms around broad shoulders, he wedged one arm between Krist’s chest and the bed and squeezed. Holding him down. Holding him still. He pressed his face into the plane of Krist’s shoulder and bit down hard. Anchored in the moment until he released. “I don’t forget anything, but if I wanted to fuck you, I’d have done it already.”

  Lies. Growling them didn’t make them true. The cruelty, salty like the skin he still tasted on his lips, felt right. Abrasive. Cleaning the wound. He couldn’t give Krist what he wanted, only what they both needed. A sharp pain to remind them that nothing changed, nothing mattered. Full or empty. Drunk or sober. The hurt remained. If he fucked Krist, he’d be making a promise he couldn’t keep.

  Lock couldn’t see Krist’s face, but felt his whole body tense beneath him. “This was a mistake, and you can’t even blame the booze.”

  ***

  Chapter Fifteen

  Sunday morning

  Hailey woke up surrounded by sex. It wasn’t the musky scent of Lock’s warm skin when she nuzzled close. It wasn’t even her own flavor that he fed her from his fingers. This was something else, an undefinable energy in the room, the dregs of intimacy. Coffee would drown out the scent of them but not the awareness vibrating through every cell of her body. He burned against her back. The sheets felt like sandpaper against her skin. Cool air hardened her sore nipples. Like the minutes right after climax, when her clit ached at the slightest touch—only this was her whole body. Too sensitive. Too used to handle anything else, but the world didn’t let up.

  Krist’s absence pulsed through the room, a gaping wound in a wild-beast night. She wouldn’t think about that. She felt Lock’s heart beat slow and steady through the arm slung over her body, and in his cock, hard and hot against the small of her back. Don’t think about that, either.

  The sleek alarm clock gleamed eight a.m. on the second day, and she hadn’t yet fulfilled her task. The most important reason for coming. Her sister. Family. Redemption. Their fucked-up family life hadn’t been her fault, except…was it? Had she done something to make Chloe rebellious and reckless? Had Hailey done something to make their mother leave?

  She rummaged through her bag and found a new outfit. Somewhere during the potent sex-ridden hours, she’d lost her confidence. The swagger with which she’d worn those fishnets and platforms the first night was missing. The leather skirt fit her hips awkwardly, as if she was trying to look cool and failing. The bra pinched her, and the top was more see-through than she’d expected. She still wore a costume, but the disguise was growing thin.

  The elevator dinged open, and she winced. When she didn’t hear anything from the bedroom, she stepped inside and hit the button for the lobby.

  She’d find the father of Chloe’s baby and convince him to… A wry laugh huffed out of her. She hadn’t been able to convince Krist to stay the night. Hadn’t convinced Lock to talk about what he felt when they’d lain alone in the dark. So odds weren’t high she’d be able to convince this man to take responsibility for his child either. Except she had to. Her little niece or nephew counted on her. Hailey knew about the hurt that never left, the doubt that infected every relationship she’d ever had. Chloe had compensated by becoming the friendly girl, so damn accommodating she’d ended up pregnant. Meanwhile Hailey might as well have entered a convent, she’d become so reclusive. The man she spoke to most was the pastor of her church, and even he had gently suggested she attend the spring social, keeping an eye out for the bachelors. Neither approach, her sister’s nor her own, had filled their small apartment with much warmth.

  The bar area was dark and empty. No chatting up the bartender for information today. She followed the smell of coffee to a dining area around the side, separate from the swanky lounge. A large placard read Complimentary Breakfast. This room seemed far more comfortable, almost too homelike for the frosty hotel. Fat rolling chairs with thick cushions scooted up to oak tables. Along one wall, a line of banquet tables held platters and gleaming serving trays. Only a handful of people were seated at the table. A couple of kids—or were they teenagers?—worked together on the waffle machine, laughing when it bubbled from the sides.

  Yes, this was exactly what she needed. Light streaming in through the broad open windows. Breaking bread amid laughter and pleasantries. A full belly to start her search.

  Her stomach growled as she piled her plate high with eggs and bacon and a cinnamon roll so hot the icing still rolled down the side. Coffee, tea. Fresh orange juice sounded even better. Something wholesome to nourish her. Something real.

  The man sle
eping upstairs is real.

  Pushing the thought away, she found a table in the corner. This seat gave her a clear view of the city unimpeded by surrounding buildings. Endless rows of glass and metal cubes as far as the eye could see, bleeding into the orange morning light, shattering it.

  She wasn’t the only one enjoying the view. At the table beside her, a young man scribbled in a notebook. He looked at the horizon, expression intent, before looking down to write quickly. Like copying down notes from a chalkboard. It made her look more closely, searching for the words scrawled there, the answers, but all she saw were pretty colors and a new day. That was what made her different from her pastor, who could divine truths from the world around them. It made her different from Lock, who plucked notes from the air and wove them into a song. Seeing something beneath the surface, capturing it. That had never been her forte, but in that moment, with her eggs cooling on the plate and the light almost blinding, something stirred inside her.

  “Excuse me,” she said. The young man didn’t look up, so she called again. “Excuse me. Do you come here every day?”

  He blinked as if surprised anyone else was in the room. She recognized him then as the guy she’d spoken to backstage, Colt. She’d felt something then too. He knew something. He could help.

  He shrugged. “I’m up earlier than most of the crew. And I like bacon.”

  “Did you ever see a girl with the band…?” No, she corrected herself. A woman. Chloe was a woman, now that she was pregnant, and if Hailey was honest, she’d been a woman for a long time. They had both grown up fast. “A young woman about my age? She’s an early riser too. Blonde hair, a little taller than me.”

  “That’s a lot of girls,” he said, but his gaze flicked away.

  She slid into the seat opposite him. “Her name is Chloe. She’s my sister.”