by Ruby Dixon
I move against his fingers. “You make me wet,” I tell him. “Both of you. Everything you do. I can’t get enough of you boys.”
He kisses me again and drags my panties off my legs. I eagerly help him along, lifting my hips and tugging my skirt up. He flings them to the floor and buries his face against my breasts, unzipping his jeans as he does. A moment later, his hips settle between mine, and then I feel the head of his big cock pushing against my core.
Boy, he wasn’t kidding about taking me hard and fast. There’s no foreplay time, and he sinks into me with a swift, deep thrust. And God, he feels good. “Oh, Cal,” I sigh, using his real name. “God, you feel good.”
“Love you, baby,” he says again, and begins a quick, brutal rhythm that has me clinging to him. Over and over, he pounds into me with fierce determination, and all I can do is hold on. It feels incredible, though. Here I thought I needed foreplay, but he’s banging me so roughly that his balls slap against my ass with every thrust and the force of him into me is making me quiver all over. It’s hitting my g-spot even if he’s not trying.
“Ooh, harder,” I tell him. “It feels so good. Go harder.”
He groans at my demand and pushes my legs further apart, then pulls an ankle up to my ear. “Hold this.”
I take it, and the moment I do, he thrusts deep again.
I cry out, because it’s changed the angle of his thrust and now it’s definitely hitting my g-spot. My entire body clenches up with each thrust, and then I’m clawing at his back and screaming his name as I come. It’s so hard and so fast that I’m surprised at the intensity. Stars burst in my eyes and it feels as if I lose my breath.
Over me, Beast surges again, and then he growls low in his throat, the sound as animalistic as his road name. I feel him pulse inside me, and then he’s coming, too, and I cling to his big shoulders as he surges over me one last, shuddering time.
He kisses me tenderly on the brow, then on the cheek, on the nose, and on my mouth as he pants and tries to regain his breath. “I should get off you,” he murmurs a moment later. “You’re so small I’m probably crushing you.”
He is, a bit. But it’s a good kind of crushing, and one I don’t mind in the slightest. “You’re good,” I say sleepily, and give my hips a little wiggle, because he’s still seated so deep inside me. I like that we don’t use condoms now. I’m on the pill and it feels different when he’s bare inside me. Muscle, too.
I look around, and Muscle’s not even in the room.
That’s…odd. I thought for sure he’d come up. I giggle and slide a hand over the collar of Beast’s blue work shirt. “I think we went too fast. He’s still watching highlights.”
Beast smiles. “So he is. Just means I get you to myself a bit longer.” He slides a big hand to my breast and begins to play with my nipple.
And I forget all about highlights for a while.
• • •
Beast and I make love several more times that night, and it isn’t until well past midnight that Muscle rolls into bed with us. He climbs over our sweaty bodies and slides in next to me, and I automatically turn to him.
“Just sleep, babe,” he tells me softly and gives me a kiss. And as I go back to sleep, I wonder why tonight, of all nights, Muscle didn’t join us in sex.
CHAPTER FIVE
SHY
The next morning, I get to work and the moment I walk in the door, Mr. Green starts asking for coffee. Ugh. I smile and begin making the coffee in the break room, then swing by my desk to put my purse down.
There’s a paper flower there, lying on my keyboard. It’s made out of a magazine article. I pick it up, curious, and there’s writing inside. When I pull open the ‘flower’, I see that it’s a page from the Victoria’s Secret catalog with a blonde model circled. She’s wearing…not much. And there’s a note written next to her: Wear this on Saturday.
What the fuck is going on? I crumple the paper and look around, but there’s no sign of that weird shaggy-haired guy in the office. I still feel his ominous presence, though, and I’m disturbed. I walk back to the break room to get coffee for Mr. Green, expecting to be jumped every moment of the way. It doesn’t happen, and I bring a Styrofoam cup of coffee to my new boss’s office.
“Thank you, Shalene,” he says, without looking up.
“Ch-ch-ch-Cheyenne,” I tell him as I set the cup down. “Um, c-c-c-can I ask something, Mr. G-G-Green?”
“Of course.” He barely glances up from the report he’s looking over.
“D-d-does the owner of the c-c-company have a s-s-son?”
He tilts his head and looks over at me. “He does. Larry sometimes shows up around here.” The look he gives me is wary. “I believe you met him once before.”
The look he gives me tells me everything I need to know. I didn’t get this job because Mr. Green took pity on me and wanted to give me a chance. I got this job because this Larry jerk wants me to push around.
And something weird is up on Saturday. I think about complaining to HR, but Mr. Green is HR. And if he’s not going to help me out with office issues, no one here will.
But I’ve got two protective boyfriends. This Larry guy doesn’t know who he’s messing with.
• • •
MUSCLE
This has been a fucking shit-ass week. First we get the shake-down from a pissant club. Then Beast decides he’s going to take one for the team. Doesn’t even want to talk about it. He’s just determined to go off to prison for the rest of his fucking life without discussing it with his ride partner in the slightest. Never mind that I’m the one that pulled the trigger. Beast is the one on camera, and if I step forward, we both go down.
And someone’s gotta be here for Shy. If we both get carted off to the clink, she’s vulnerable. The club will watch her, but they can’t be everywhere. And our girl’s had enough misery in her life without losing both her men.
It’s all but decided. I fucking hate it, but we’re low on options. Giving Shy to those dickbags? Not an option.
It makes for foul moods all around, though. Shy doesn’t understand why I’ve backed off, sex-wise. Beast won’t let me tell her the situation—that come Saturday all the shit’s going to hit the fan. It doesn’t leave him much time, so I’m letting him monopolize her until then. Seems only fair, since I get to monopolize her after that.
Unless he really does go away for a life sentence. Then I’ll probably need to get another ride partner.
Hell. I fucking hate the thought of that.
I’m lost in shitty thoughts as I wait to pick up Shy at her job. Beast is at a lawyer’s office. Not to see about getting representation — he’s getting his shit in order in case he does go to the big house, which makes me crazy.
When Shy comes out of work, she’s not smiling. Her soft mouth is set in a mulish expression, and there are hollows under her eyes, as if she’s stressed so much today that it’s leached some of the life out of her.
“Day two that bad?” I tease, trying to bring the light back to her smile.
“It’s something we need to talk about,” she says as she gets on the bike behind me. “Not here, though.”
“Beast’s got another late appointment,” I say. It’s the truth, but it’s not work related. “You want to go grab a burger?”
“Sure,” she says as she puts on her helmet, and her voice is listless and unhappy. My gut clenches. Does she possibly know what’s going on? We’ve been careful to hide stuff from her but maybe word got out after all.
I take her to a casual dining place instead of a drive thru, and get myself a beer. We’ve got a booth all to ourselves, and it feels strange to not have Beast’s big form hogging half the bench. It’s something I’m probably going to have to get used to.
Damn. I down my beer, miserable at the thought.
Shy plays with a sugar packet idly while we wait for the server. After our orders are in, she speaks up. “So, I don’t think my new job is going to work out.”
“How
come?”
“I saw the time sheets on the copier.” Her expression is unhappy. “All the women are being paid tons less than the guys. And some of them have been there longer than the guys, and do the same job.”
“That’s…shitty.”
“That’s not the worst,” she says, running a finger on the edge of the packet. She won’t look at me. “The owner’s son has been coming on to me.”
“He what?” My hand clenches around the beer bottle. “If he fucking touches you, I’ll kick his goddamn ass into next week.”
“Yeah, that’s what I figured. I’m not scared of him?” She merely looks thoughtful. “I know you guys have my back. I’m just confused because he keeps mentioning that I need to be ready for him on Saturday, but I’m not entirely sure what he’s talking about.”
I freeze. “Saturday?”
She nods. “Today he left a picture of lingerie on my desk and said he wanted to see me in it on Saturday.”
I’m getting a sick feeling in my gut. This can’t be coincidence. We’d wondered how the Hard Nine knew about Shy, since she was so new to the club scene. I’m starting to get a fucking idea, though. “So what’s this jackass look like?”
“Dark blond hair,” she says, gesturing at her own hair. “Kinda shaggy. Looks like it needs a cut. And he’s in a club, but I don’t know it.”
“Hard Nine,” I say grimly. That goddamn son of a bitch.
Shy’s expression goes flat. “You know this guy?”
“I think I might.”
“I think you might wanna explain.”
We do owe her an explanation, so even though it goes against our own code of protecting the women, I tell her about the situation with Bernie, and how Beast and I handled things. Her expression remains flat and unchanging, even when I casually talk about killing a guy. Shy’s killed before, too. She knows it’s not something done lightly, but out of necessity. She also knows it’s part of our job as Warlords, and she doesn’t judge.
Her expression grows even grimmer when I tell her about the Hard Nine meeting and their demands. Her nostrils flare as I tell her that Scorpion’s demanded her in his bed. I half expected Shy to be worried or scared.
Nope. She’s pissed.
“So let me get this straight. Beast is about to go back to prison because some asshole wants to take me as his personal fuck toy, and you guys thought this was a good idea to keep it all a secret?”
“The more you know, the more dangerous it is for you—”
“Fuck that,” she says, banging a small hand on the table. Shy’s probably ninety pounds and barely five foot, but right now, she’s fostering a major rage-boner. “We are a team. Remember? That you guys cut me out of this pisses me off so much!”
“Why? He wants to protect you. I want to protect you, too.”
“I can make this decision, too!”
“You mean by sleeping with this tool? Fuck that. You’re not a bargaining chip.” I lean in close. “You think we haven’t agonized over this? There’s no right way to go. If we give them the guns and you — and we don’t want to do either — what’s to stop them from playing this card in the future? What’s to stop those assholes from hurting you? We are not going to allow that. Old ladies are off limits, goddamn it, and the thought of one of those cocksuckers touching you kills me. Kills Beast.”
“It’s going to kill him if he goes back to prison,” she says softly.
“I know.” I scrub a hand down my face. “We don’t know what to do.”
“I do,” she says, and slides out of the booth.
“Where are you going?”
“You are going to take me to see Gemini and Domino, and I’m going to give them a piece of my mind,” she says, storming out of the restaurant.
I blink…and follow behind her. Because damn, the girl is magnificent when she’s in a huff.
• • •
We find Gem and Dom in their office at the Meat Locker, and Shy wastes no time letting them have a blast of her anger. “You gave him this job to do for the club, and now you’re going to leave him out to dry?” she yells at Domino and Gemini. “This is twice now he’s going to take the hit for the club, and you guys won’t lift a finger to protect him?”
“It’s not that simple,” Gem says, a grave expression on his face.
“It is that simple,” she bellows. “Beast cannot go back to prison. He cannot go for life. You’re just going to have to figure something out.”
“You feel like spreading your legs for the club, then?” Dom asks caustically. “Cause I’m pretty sure that’s the last thing Beast wants.”
“Why is everyone thinking with their goddamn dicks around here?” She throws up her hands dramatically. “Use your brains! The ones above your belts!”
Dom’s lips twitch and he glances over at me. “I thought you said she was shy.”
I just shake my head, too awed by the sheer balls our Shy-girl has to come and confront the club presidents and bitch them out on Beast’s behalf. It’s goddamn glorious.
“Their offer is me and guns in exchange for their silence,” Shy says, her shoulders heaving with righteous indignation. “You need to make them a better offer. One that ensures they’ll shut the fuck up or go down in flames.”
“You think we haven’t considered that? We suggested heading over there with our boys and cleaning house,” Gemini says, and mimics firing a gun so Shy knows exactly what he means. “Beast doesn’t want that. He wants things to go down easily.”
“They still can,” she exclaims. “They want to blackmail you? Blackmail them right back!”
“We’ve got nothing on them other than the fact that they were buying illegal arms,” Domino points out. “Can’t exactly hold that over their heads considering we’re the ones with the arms at the moment.”
“No, but I have an idea.” She turns and gives me a wicked smile. “Scorpion’s dad owns the company I just started working for, and I’ve already got a little dirt on them. With a bit of maneuvering, we can turn it into a lot of dirt.”
“We’re listening,” Gem says, and there’s an intensity on his face that humbles me. No one wants Beast to go to prison.
Shy drums her fingers on her chin, then snaps her fingers. “So. A plan…”
CHAPTER SIX
SHY
If you want things done right, you’ve got to do them yourself. The next day, I go to work with a plan in mind. My skirt’s a little tighter than it should be, courtesy of a few safety pins, and my blouse can be artfully arranged to show more cleavage than it should. I wear mascara and subtle makeup, intent on being the wide-eyed ingénue.
Under my blouse? A microphone and recorder.
They wanna play blackmail games? They don’t know who they’re fucking with. I killed my own brother. I’ve learned to be hardcore. They are not going to touch my men, either of them.
The first thing I do when I get to work is sabotage the coffee pot. I empty the water reservoir and put a bit clear packing tape over the spout, nice and tight, to seal it. Then I put water in again and start the machine. The lights turn on and the heater whistles, but no coffee comes out. Feigning confusion, I head toward Mr. Green’s office and knock on his door. “Mr. Green? I c-c-can’t get the c-coffee machine to work.”
He looks up from his paperwork and frowns. “It’s a very simple machine, Candice.”
I grit my teeth and don’t correct him about my name. I just shrug. “I must have messed something up. Can you come take a look at it?”
He gets up and sighs, then heads for the break room. I let him pass me, and when he disappears into the kitchen, I grab the red folder off his desk. It holds the time sheets, and those have the hourly wages listed on them. I quickly make copies of it, then return it to his desk, expecting to be caught at any moment. But no one even looks in my direction, so I slide the papers under my keyboard and then head to the break room, where Mr. Green is punching the ‘on’ button and giving the machine a puzzled look.
; “It’s not working,” he tells me.
I nod. Duh.
He tinkers with the machine a bit longer, then declares it a bust, and I try to look suitably chastised and confused. Eventually he decides that he needs to go to the office store and get another machine, and I retreat to my cube and stuff my photocopies into my purse. That’s step one.
Like clockwork, Larry aka Scorpion shows up that afternoon. He whistles as he swings by my desk, and as he arrives, I make sure that my skirt looks short and my blouse reveals a lot of flesh. The microphone’s tucked on the far side of one of my breasts, under the armpit, since I’m relatively flat chested.
Doesn’t matter for Larry. He leans over my cube and leers at me. “Did you get my note?”
“Your note?” I ask, feigning ignorance. “Do you mean the page of lingerie where you wrote my name on there and said you wanted me to wear that for you?”
“Yeah,” he says, and adjusts his crotch. Ugh. “You gonna do it?”
I turn back to my desk and pretend to be very interested in a spreadsheet. “This conversation is sexual harassment in the workplace.”
He laughs. “My dad’s the boss, sugar. You want to complain to him, go ahead. You’re lucky to have this damn job.”
I give him a hurt look. “I was hired because Mr. Green wanted to give me a chance.”
“No, you were hired because I told him we needed your tits and ass here at the office.” He smirks in my direction. “And you’re going to be fired the moment I’m done with you, so you need to make me happy.”
Jeez, I couldn’t ask for better material if I paid the man. I feign a gasp. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that your employment,” he says, leaning closer to my desk so he can gaze down the front of my blouse, “is dependent on my good will. Among other things.” He eyes my chest speculatively. “But we’ll see how good you can be on Saturday.”
“Why me?” I ask. It’s a legit question. My face is plain and my tits nonexistent. I’m small and look young despite being in my twenties, so maybe he has a teen girl fetish or something.