“Is that my surprise?”
It might be part of it. Travis touched the tip of his nose to hers. “Just make certain you don’t eat anything while you’re working tonight.”
She brushed her lips over his. “You put something in the beef to kill the bikers’ sex drive?”
Travis smacked her ass again, as playfully as he had the first time. “Just do as I say. You won’t regret it.”
Before she could comment, his mouth was over hers.
His words and kiss were so promising, Mercy suppressed her doubt, helpless against his allure.
If her day at Fast Fill had been long, this evening was like swimming through quicksand with cement blocks tied to her feet. Each minute stuck to the other, her thoughts too hopeful and romantic.
Mercy kept imagining that Travis had heard her last night when she’d blurted how much she loved him and Dutch. Rather than being spooked, he’d shared the news with his friend. Tonight, they were going to confess their feelings for her, giving Mercy the surprise of her life.
Common sense warned her it wasn’t likely. That’s why she’d been so bummed on returning today, uncertain whether she should keep doing this. Each time they took a piece of her heart, they’d left her with less protection against abandonment and hurt.
Damn, why couldn’t she be like a guy, wanting nothing except sex?
All evening, she continued to fight her yearning and anxiety. By the time Travis turned out the lights and escorted her to the front door, Mercy was so strung out she could barely think.
She headed for her cabin, figuring Dutch was already there since he hadn’t come by the saloon.
Travis captured her hand and led her in the opposite direction.
“We’re going to your cabin?” she asked.
“Nope.”
“Dutch’s?”
“Uh–uh.”
She wondered if both places were too messy. Neither guy had allowed her to clean, telling her to relax instead. If only she could. “That only leaves the repair shop. We’re going there?”
Travis grinned. His eyes sparkled in the moonlight, shadows deepening the creases in his bristly cheeks. “Now there’s a thought. We could take pictures of you nude on one of the bikes.”
She chuckled. “Not in this life.”
Travis brought her hand to his mouth and kissed the base of her thumb. “You have a gorgeous body. It’s a crime to hide it.”
Mercy stopped. So did he and looked over. “Is that your surprise?” she asked. “Telling me what I’d like to hear?”
He seemed puzzled then frowned. “You think I’m BSing you? Don’t you ever look in a mirror? You’re beautiful. Your body’s fabulous.”
Heat stung her cheeks. “That’s not the word I would have used.”
“Of course you wouldn’t. You’re not a guy.”
His sincerity floored her. He really did like her the way she was. Mercy’s impossible longing swelled again. “What’s the surprise?”
“You’ll see.”
He walked her past Dutch’s cabin and then his, to the rear of the property. Given the picnic tables and grills, the previous owners had probably used this area as an RV campground. Despite the surrounding firs, maples, and foliage, a hint of the ocean washed over the area, scrubbing the air clean. It wasn’t too warm or too cool tonight. Somewhere in the mid–seventies. Warmer than usual and perfect.
Mercy was about to comment on how fresh the vegetation smelled when the wind changed direction, delivering the hint of smoke and cooked meat.
Travis directed her to the left, down a narrow path that opened onto a cleared area. Torches ringed it, their flames bobbing merrily in the breeze. Dutch raised his long metal fork in greeting. He stood near a grill, the coals glowing red, splashing rosy light onto his nudity.
“You didn’t eat anything tonight, did you?” Travis asked.
“Not yet,” she murmured.
He laughed. “Come on then.”
They undressed while they walked, dropping their clothes as they approached. When they reached Dutch, they were as naked as him.
He wound his arm around Mercy’s shoulders, easing her close, giving her a deep, wet kiss.
She drooped against him and suckled his tongue, powerless to resist. Her hands skimmed the breathtaking tat on his back then clutched his ass. When she released him, awe, lust, and mischief danced across his face, telling Mercy that this was his and Travis’s surprise.
It wasn’t what she’d dreamed of, but she still smiled, touched by their gesture. Hamburgers and hot dogs, dripping in barbeque sauce, rested on a platter. Dutch had spread a bedsheet over the long picnic table. To one side were containers of coleslaw, potato salad, bags of chips and buns, pickles, beer, condiments, the cupcakes she hadn’t taken with her this morning and silverware.
“No plates?” she asked.
“Don’t need them.” He handed Travis the fork and led her to the table. “Climb on and lie down.”
Mercy stayed where she was. “You’re going to eat off me?”
“Go,” Dutch said, smacking her butt as Travis always did.
The sheet smelled of Downey. She stretched out, arms by her sides, legs together, feet pointed toward the feast.
“You can do better than that,” Dutch said, and spread her thighs. Travis guided Mercy’s arms above her head, placing one wrist over the other.
A gentle current of air licked the soft folds between her legs, telling Mercy how wet she was. Travis laid pickle spears on her navel and a line of chips down her torso. Dutch dropped a glob of coleslaw on her tummy.
She stiffened. “Ugh, that’s cold.”
“Your skin will warm it up.”
Before it could, Travis used a spoon to smear potato salad on her boobs. Mercy shivered. “That’s even worse.”
He licked a clump of it from her nipple and swirled his tongue around the tip. Her ears buzzed.
Lifting his head, he asked, “Better?”
God yeah. “Do it again.”
Smiling, he patted her thigh and smeared more potato salad on the inside of it, near her cunt. He did the same with her other leg.
Dutch opened a beer and handed it to Travis then took his own.
“Hey,” Mercy said. “When do I get to eat?”
“You like barbeque sauce?” Dutch asked.
“Sure.”
He grabbed a bottle of the stuff, squirted it over his cock then padded to where she lay. “Dig in.”
Mercy fought a laugh and cooed, “Is it done?”
Dutch tapped the hard column of flesh with his fingers. His shaft was so stiff, it barely moved. “Yep.”
Mercy ran her tongue over his plump crown, moaning at the taste of the sweet–smoky sauce and his skin. She licked her way down to his thick curls then back up to take him into her mouth.
He groaned loud enough to disturb the wildlife. Travis made an even throatier noise as he lapped potato salad from her inner thighs and briefly tongued her clit. A riot of sensations spilled through Mercy. She squirmed. He clamped his hand on her knee to keep her still. Dutch trapped her hands beneath one of his, driving his cock farther into her mouth.
For minutes, the sounds of pleasure mingled with the rustling leaves and the faint flapping of the bedsheet. Mercy brought Dutch to a satisfying climax, welcoming his cum. Rich and salty, a glorious flavor that tasted of him.
Travis spread her folds and sucked her clit. Mercy whimpered, moaned, then wailed lustily, not caring how indecent she sounded. She came within seconds, her pussy’s contractions more gratifying than any food.
Coming down felt nearly as good as her soar to the top. Catlike, she stretched. The pickles rolled to her bush. Travis followed and bent to eat them. Dutch took care of the coleslaw and chips. Their tongues swiped and tickled as they filled their bellies and cleaned her.
She ruffled Travis’s hair and scratched Dutch’s skull, wanting to say what was in her heart. Unable to do so. They also grew quiet and played with her n
ipples as though that was the best game in town.
When everyone finally tackled the real meat, they sat cross–legged on the tabletop, giving each other bites of their sandwiches. Mercy licked a dribble of sauce from Dutch’s chin then one from where it had dropped on Travis’s cock.
His shaft rose proud and stiff from his dark curls. She worshipped him with her tongue as she’d done with Dutch. Travis fought for control, as he always did, but Mercy was equally persistent, forcing him over the edge, savoring his cum.
He sagged to the table. So did she, her head on his firm belly, her feet on Dutch’s solid thigh. Gazing at the stars, Mercy wished on as many as she could, losing count, drifting off.
When she woke, Travis and Dutch were talking business, stuff they had to do at daybreak, bikes that needed repair, an order of booze that hadn’t come in yet. Ordinary things Mercy longed to share with them for as long as she could.
In a few days, she’d celebrate her month’s anniversary here. Reminding Travis that she only had thirty days left. He liked rules. Order. Control. Having a good time.
Even if he let her stay beyond his original plan, how long would his new one last? What would she do if he and Dutch found someone else? Always a possibility. Hell, a certainty given their great looks and effortless charm.
“Hey.” Travis caught her arm before Mercy could move off the table. “Where’re you going?”
Away from them to protect her heart. “It’s late.” She cleared her throat. “I have to get up early.”
“Why? You said you didn’t have to bake.”
Mercy ran her fingers down his beard–roughened cheek. “I still have to go to Fast Fill.”
“We’ll do something tomorrow night,” Dutch said. “It’s Saturday. None of us have to work on Sunday.”
“I can’t,” Mercy said, leaving the table.
Travis reached for her again, this time grabbing her wrist. “You said you get Sundays off now. Has that changed?”
“No.”
“Then why can’t you play tomorrow night?”
She couldn’t tell them the truth. However, she still owed them for all they’d done. One final good time…something to remember. “I can play on Sunday.”
Both men grinned.
“Meet me in the saloon at two in the afternoon,” she said. “Don’t make me wait. I’ll have a surprise for you guys.”
Before either of them could ask what she meant, Mercy hurried away, grabbing her clothes as she fled.
Saturday night, Dutch checked to see if Mercy had returned. Nope. The parking space in front of her cabin was still empty. Earlier, she’d called Travis from Fast Fill, apologizing for not being able to work tonight, explaining that she’d made a double batch of chili the previous day so he should be covered.
Dutch wondered if she’d car trouble, or how that could even be possible. He’d overhauled her damn clunker, giving it new guts. When she’d insisted on paying him, he’d refused, not wanting her money. He needed her to be here.
He liked Mercy. She got him. There were no awkward moments between them. Being with her was like being with a guy. Easy and uncomplicated, only better. She made him feel so fucking powerful. Needed. Wanted.
He strode into the saloon, which was filled with too much smoke and rowdy bikers. Travis leaned against the back counter, looking as gloomy as Dutch felt.
“Hey,” he said. “Mercy’s still not back. She call? Is she having trouble with her car?”
Travis lifted his shoulders. “The last time I talked to her, she said she couldn’t make it tonight.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know,” he shot back. “I guess she’s busy.”
“Doing what?” With who?
As if they were thinking the same thing, he and Travis scoured the crowd. The blond biker was here, so clearly he wasn’t with her.
“Did we do something wrong at the picnic?” Dutch asked. “She’s been different since then.”
“I don’t know.” Travis pushed his fingers through his hair, dragging it back. “What the hell could we have done wrong?”
“Maybe it’s not us. Could be she’s got PMS.”
“Yo,” a bruising biker called out. “I need a brew.”
“Be with you in a sec,” Travis said. To Dutch, he mumbled, “We’ll know for sure tomorrow, when she gives us her surprise.”
For the first time in nearly two years, Travis shaved on Sunday and took pains with his hair and clothes. Not as though he was going on a date. He simply wanted to look good and to smell nice for Mercy. She deserved that, and so much more, from any man.
He reached the saloon at the same time Dutch did. He’d shaved too. Pretending not to notice each other’s grooming, they hurried up the steps to the front door.
Inside, a bluesy instrumental played. She’d pulled the shades down, which cast the large room in shadows. The only light came from flickering candles placed on a group of tables that circled one in the center.
Dutch whispered, “Holy shit.”
Travis elbowed him, not wanting anything to break the magic Mercy had created. Holy shit didn’t begin to cover it.
She sat in the center of the middle table, legs folded back, naked as the day she’d been born, except for her black spike heels. Four inches, at least. Her hair rippled down her back in silken waves. She’d wrapped a black scarf around her eyes–a makeshift blindfold–and held her wrists behind her, a rope looped loosely around them.
Blood pounded in Travis’s ears. He moved closer. So did Dutch. They stopped at the same time. Travis figured Dutch had finally seen what he had…the leather strap next to her leg.
Turning her head to the side, she purred, “Make me surrender.”
Mercy heard their harsh breathing, sensed their surprise. Good. She had their full attention, as she never would again. Today they’d be hers, no one else’s. A promise she’d made to herself.
Travis reached her first. Mercy recognized his stride, knew his scent. With his hand on her throat, he lowered his mouth to hers, slipping his tongue inside.
Mercy whimpered in delight, parting her lips to him. As Dutch neared, she arched her back, needing his touch.
It was everything she required, soft and strong, light yet intense as he fondled her breasts and plucked her nipples.
With his fingers splayed on her belly, Travis ran his hand over her mound to her clit. Mercy trembled at the rush of sensations he produced. Dutch slipped his fingers between her cheeks, concentrating on her anus, arousing Mercy beyond restraint.
She wanted him to use her there again. She wouldn’t be satisfied until both of them screwed her raw–but only after they’d disciplined her. A game Travis had started but hadn’t continued. He didn’t know how much Mercy would gladly endure, the contents of her fantasies. Leather straps, whips, and brutal corsets. Him blindfolding and dominating her until she felt oh–so vulnerable and fully used.
Arousal stirred in her cunt, moisture dampening her plump folds.
Travis’s fingers slid down her dewy cleft. He broke their kiss and pressed his cheek to hers. His was hot and smooth.
Ohmygod. He’d shaved.
Maybe he’s starting a new life, the same as you.
Sorrow pricked Mercy’s chest, the ache sharp and deep. She pushed it away. This was about having a good time. Her last chance for it.
“You’re sure about this?” Travis murmured. “You want us to use the strap?”
Mercy nodded. “Punish me. I’ve been bad.”
He chuckled. “Oh baby, you don’t know how good you’re being.”
She glowed at his endearment and naked enthusiasm. With Dutch’s help, Travis guided Mercy to her feet and quickly tied her hands in front.
“Lean over the table,” he ordered, “back arched, ass high.”
“Legs spread,” Dutch added.
Approval and desire sluiced through Mercy. A pulse ticked deep within her cunt. She assumed the position, her skin heated with excitement. The strap
made a faint rasping sound as one of them pulled it from the table. Blindfolded, she couldn’t be certain which. Her mind saw Travis, then Dutch wielding it. The end flying up, suspended for a moment, before it came–
A hand on her waist halted her thoughts. The crack of leather against her skin registered a second before the burning sting. Mercy’s mouth hung open on a gasp that wouldn’t come. She was too breathless and stirred, then comforted by the surge of warmth.
Dutch or Travis brought the strap down again, this time slightly lower, marking a new part of her. Delivering a feeling of wicked abandon and incredible heat. Mercy swallowed and lifted her ass, inviting punishment.
Three more times the leather touched her, both men breathing as hard as she did. Perspiration coated her skin. The strap fell to the floor. Something followed, making a soft rustling sound. Mercy sensed it was a tee. Boots clunked against the wood. Socks, jeans, underwear dropped.
Fingers probed her anus and cunt. So many at once, Mercy didn’t know which belonged to Dutch, which to Travis, who mumbled something beneath his breath then fell quiet.
Mercy sensed he’d seen the condoms she’d brought.
She heard him tear the packet, pictured him rolling the slick latex over his rigid cock. She trembled as it touched her inner thigh. A moan tore from her as he entered, fully and deeply, in one coarse thrust.
His control at an end.
It would return, Mercy knew, though not until they were finished. She ground her ass into his groin, wanting him to use her, brand her so she’d never forget this moment.
Travis rode her for a long time, his grunts eager and shameless. His shaft thickened within her. Passion, tenderness, need, and heartache raced through Mercy. Desire won. Her body welcomed his, her climax growing close, though not quite there.
Travis brushed his fingers over her clit.
She cried out. He came when she did, pumping furiously. Mercy joined him at the peak of pleasure, soaring higher than she ever had, the room spinning, her body tense one moment, limp the next.
Panting, Travis cradled her close, giving Mercy what she really wanted. Intimacy and warmth.
Dutch wasn’t as sentimental, his sighs frustrated.
Brought to His Knees-Tough Guys Laid Low By Love Page 90