by Dixon, Ruby
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 wou
ldn’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.
I fluff the pillows and roll over in Beast’s big bed. As I do, I hear an unhappy moan come from another room.
I sit up in bed, alarmed. Beast is still in the shower, so that can mean only one thing. I slide off the edge of the bed and wrap the sheet around my naked body, then tiptoe into the hallway. As I do, I hear a muffled sob. Muscle’s having another one of his nightmares.
My heart squeezes for him. This big, cocky, confident man obviously has something in his past that he keeps buried and only surfaces at night.
I creep into his room and see him thrashing on the bed. The blankets are knotted and trailing onto the floor, and his naked form is gleaming with sweat. There’s an intense frown on his face, but his breathing indicates he’s still asleep.
“Muscle?” I whisper.
No response. A moment later, his head thrashes and he jerks in his sleep. “No,” he breathes, then another choked sound of horror escapes him. He rolls violently on the bed.
I can’t sit back and do nothing. I move forward, avoiding his flailing arms, and press a cool hand to his cheek. “Jason?” I try instead, keeping my voice soft.
His eyes flick open, and he looks right at me.
“Hi,” I say, trying to smile. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. I—”
“Mmmfh,” he says, and his head tosses again. One arm nearly decks me across the face and I narrowly avoid it.
He’s not awake, then. It’s just more night terrors. But my touch got a response from him. On a hunch, I lose my sheet and crawl under the covers with him, pressing my naked body against his.
Muscle flails again, his entire body starting, and I squeeze my eyes shut, anticipating a wallop from the dreaming man. It’d be my own fault, since he doesn’t have control of his dreams. But he doesn’t smack me. Instead, he twitches, and then he clutches me to him as if he’s drowning. His arms lock around me tight, my head pushed against his chest.
He mutters something in his sleep again.
“Go back to sleep, Jason,” I tell him, and wrap my arms around his waist.
He stills.
I remain utterly motionless, waiting for him to wake up or have bad dreams again. But his breathing evens out, and the mumbles die down, and a few minutes later, I’m pleased to hear a gentle snore. Okay, so I’ll have to sleep with him clinging to me like Scotch Tape, but I don’t mind it. I like that he needs me. I do worry Beast is going to think I abandoned him, though.
I listen for footsteps in the hall, and when I hear them a short time later, I call out, “In here” over Muscle’s snores.
Beast appears in the doorway, and I look over at him helplessly as Muscle just clings to me tighter and keeps right on snoring. “Bad dreams again?” he asks.
I nod. “They seem to have stopped for now.”
“Good thing.”
Muscle hasn’t even stirred. It’s almost funny, except that his dreams are clearly the stuff of nightmares. I’m torn between leaving him behind and rejoining Beast. Luckily, the problem is solved for me a moment later, when I feel the blankets lift on my opposite side. “Scoot over,” Beast says.
I do, and he squeezes his big body into bed next to me. He’s wearing boxers, and he presses his longer form against mine, then wraps an arm around my waist. Now I’m sandwiched between the two men again, cocooned between their bigger forms. If I have to use the bathroom in the middle of the night, I am shit out of luck, because there is no way I’m going to be able to escape this nest.
I feel Beast press his mouth against my shoulder from behind. “If he asks,” he murmurs, “tell him I still don’t like him in that way. I just wanted to get my time in with you.”
I grin and lean my head back against him, even as Muscle’s face ends up on my breasts. I’m surrounded by hard limbs and unyielding bodies. It’s not the most comfortable of places to sleep...but I’m not moving for the world. Somehow, I manage to fall asleep. And I sleep great.
Chapter Seven
Over the next week or so, I work on making myself invaluable to the men. I clean the house from top to bottom, because they’re two slobs and I can’t stand to live in a dirty house. Underneath all the empty cans and chip bags, there’s a gorgeous carpet, nice furniture, and it’s a pleasure to make the house a home again. The men protest that they don’t care how clean or dirty the place is, but I catch them picking up after themselves now, and I feel as if I’ve accomplished something.
I do the laundry, too, since the men bought me some clothes. Granted, they were from Wal-Mart, but that’s fine. Jeans are jeans, and I’m just happy to have cotton panties and a decent bra.
I’ve also taken over the kitchen. Ever since I made the men breakfast, they’ve asked for me to keep cooking. Muscle makes these adorable puppy faces when he pleads for one of my meat-and-veggie stuffed omelets, and having
such an appreciative audience makes me happy to comply. He jokes that I’m nesting, but I’m just trying to make them see I have value. That I can be fun to have around the house in more ways than just in bed.
Not that bed is a bad thing. Every night, we have sex. Never all three of us together—Muscle says I’m not ready for that, even though I’m willing. I love having sex with both of them, and one isn’t better than the other in my eyes. They’re both totally different. Muscle’s hot and dirty and likes to push my buttons to make sure I come hard, fast, and rough. Beast, for all his size, is more of a tender lover, who enjoys languid marathon sex. Neither one is exactly a chore. Actually, since we’ve started having sex, I’ve been just as eager for them as they have for me, and they’re not always the ones initiating things. I’m a lot shyer in my asking, but I’ve learned how to be effective with a few subtle touches and a teasing flick of the eyes.
The men are also good at not leaving me alone for long periods of time. They both work full time doing HVAC contractor work, and so I either ride along or they round up a prospect to come and watch over the house while they’re gone. Every time they leave, though, I turn the lights off in the house and try to keep things quiet. Sometimes I’ll hear a noise and end up hiding in a closet, terrified that Stuart’s found me.
But nothing happens and the days are mostly quiet.
Mostly.
There’s one night that’s bad. Both men are out late one night, and I’m not allowed to come. When it creeps into two, then three in the morning, I start to worry. What if something’s happened? I peek through the peephole in the door but the prospect is still out front, lounging in his car. Club business, I tell myself. I can’t worry about them. They’re adults and they can handle themselves.
Of course, I still worry.
At 4 AM, I hear the motorcycles roar into the garage, and I don’t even care that they’ve probably woken the neighbors. I fly to the garage door and yank it open, eyes wide with fear. “Is everything all right?”
Both men are there, and they’re both whole. Fine, really. They look tired and their eyes are hollow from lack of sleep, but otherwise...fine. Muscle presses a kiss to the top of my head as he moves past and I catch the smell of gas and something else as he walks past. “Long day, Shy-girl. I’m heading up to the shower and then off to bed.”