by Cop Versus Biker) Christa Wick - Shield Her (A Bad Boys in Her Bed Menage
Hearing Carson stifle a small groan, I tracked his gaze and saw the same bleach blonde woman who had first greeted us and showed us where we could sit upon our arrival. Her name was Priscilla, but she went by Crazy Eights because she was Eight Ball’s old lady and…well, she appeared to be every bit a sociopath as her old man.
She sat down next to me, smelling a little bit boozy, but with eyes that were wild instead of drunk.
“You wouldn’t believe how many sweet butts have been trying to crawl over that cock of his,” she said. “I was ready to believe he liked dick himself.”
Her faced stretched in something that was maybe supposed to be a grin, but was more a Halloween mask pulled too tight. “Then Eight Ball says he’s got an old lady we never heard about.”
Pausing, she eyed me up and down, especially at the points where my body touched Carson’s. Then she turned her gaze toward some of the other couples where there were cocks or tits in mouths, hands down pants or the most extreme display where the woman had her jeans around ankles and was being fucked doggy style by her old man while a ring of his biker “brothers” looked on.
Returning her attention to us, Crazy Eights lifted a brow, her head bobbing from whatever she was high or drunk on. She flicked a finger in Carson’s direction, then started to slide off her chair and stand.
“I’m still thinking he likes dick,” she said and walked away.
Bitch or not, Priscilla had a point. We weren’t selling it.
Or maybe she thought I was too timid or stuck up and wanted to push me toward acting more like the women around me. It didn’t matter which it was, I needed the people around us to trust me and Carson more, to let us deeper into their slimy, gutless underworld so we could send them to prison.
Burying my face against Carson’s neck, I whispered words I hoped were too soft for the microphone to pick up, hoped like hell the microphone wouldn’t pick up anything that was about to transpire between me and the best friend I’d been fantasizing about for the last eight years, the man who was half of my ever present Dream Team.
“You need to make the first move…need to show them you own me.”
An unexpected groan rattled through Carson’s chest. His hand wrapped roughly around the underside of my jaw and he jerked my head up to stare at my face. “You shouldn’t say things like that, Reg.”
I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry and choking on the little ball of spit I forced down. Shadows darkened the teal green eyes but I could read the heat in them. That, too, was completely unexpected. I knew he’d gone the last three months celibate, but he’d never looked at me with even a tenth of the hunger blazing across his face at that moment.
“You have to,” I whispered again.
He stopped halfway through shaking his head, his gaze searching mine for some unknown factor that would make up his mind.
“To keep me safe,” I said, my voice dropping as low as it could go and still have him hear me.
His mouth crushed mine, his tongue instantly sweeping in. He had never released my jaw and his free hand completed the cage he had me trapped in by coiling through my hair and tightening its grip. I pressed my palms against his chest, the need to pull away warring with the desire to wrap my legs around his waist.
Damn, how many times had I dreamed a kiss just like this, from just this man?
“Carson…”
“No,” he growled. “You don’t speak now without my permission.”
I didn’t know if he was performing for the benefit of nearby club members or if he meant what he was saying. My body couldn’t distinguish any better than my mind and didn’t want to. The rough command of obedience and silence sent a hot flush racing throughout me, the heat settling at the bottom of my thighs to burn through my panties before a thick burst of my cream could extinguish the flame.
Squirming against the bench seat, I tried to pull back. He jerked me onto his lap, my breasts pressed against his chest and my mound welded against his erection as his hands seized my hips to hold me down.
Between the rapid blink of his eyes, I saw how unfocused his gaze had become.
“Kiss me, baby,” he rasped. “Kiss me like my life depended on it.”
********************
Dear, sweet, merciful heaven — what the hell had I done?
I moved from room to room in my apartment, Carson sitting on the couch after finally abandoning his attempts to get me to stop the pacing I had taken up as soon as we entered my home.
Maddox — Maddox would be here any second after having listened to the tape of me and Carson in the club. He’d know how hot things had become, would have heard my little gurgles and groans of need as Carson rubbed my jeans-covered mound over the hard length of his erection, would have heard the gasps as Carson reached under my shirt and pinched roughly at my nipples, would have heard my throaty confession as Carson asked me over and over again…
“Are you wet, baby?”
Yes.
“Do you want my cock in you?”
Yes.
“Are you going to come rubbing that sweet pussy all over it?”
Yes…oh…yes…
And then, the devil take me, I had done just that, shivered and quaked all over him, biting at my bottom lip so hard to keep from crying out as I came that I drew blood — blood that Carson had then kissed and licked away as his hands massaged me down from my release.
Now I couldn’t bear to look him in the eye. How much harder would it be to face Maddox glaring at me in disgust?
And where had all that hot, dirty talk come from? Carson deserved an acting award for his performance. Even in college, when I thought he was going to ask me out at long last — which turned out to be the day before I found out the other mouth watering hottie in one of my classes was his best friend — he’d never looked at me like he had tonight, his voice twisting with the same need that distorted my spine as I had squirmed against him.
Growling, I ran my fingers through my hair, pulling at it in frustration.
“Calm down, Reggie,” Carson coaxed, patting the cushion next to him, a weird grin on his face that suggested his intent was something other than getting me to relax.
The entire ride back from the club house to my apartment had been hell, that grin of his sliding on and off his face more frequently than the blocks we flew by. I absolutely was not going to sit by him when we were alone. He would wrap an arm around me, put one big palm high up on my thigh — and I’d be ready to climb onto his lap all over again.
All while the microphone around my neck continued to broadcast!
Maddox’s sharp, single knock rapped hard just as I was passing the door. I yelped, took a side jump then released an inventive string of curse words. This time, to avoid further pissing him off, I used the peephole to ensure it was him, then opened the door with the chain on to make sure he was alone.
The glare that met me through the crack suggested I hadn’t earned any points following safety protocol. I closed the door and slowly removed the chain. The instant the chain dropped, he twisted the handle and pushed the door inward, crowding me as I tried to step back.
“Sit,” he rasped and pointed at the chair he usually occupied on his visits.
I obeyed like a scolded child, arms folded across my chest, my cheeks pink with shame. Standing behind me, Maddox unthreaded the necklace and shoved it in a case. Then he moved around front, kneeling and reaching up for the earrings.
“I can take them out on my own,” I protested, reaching up.
Grabbing me by the wrists, he stopped me. I glared at him but let him gently return my hands to my lap. I winced as he took the first piece out, his anger getting the best of him and making his fingers dance too much to remove the earring without jabbing me a couple of times with its post.
“Take the other one out,” he said, his hand still shaking as he pulled down the zipper and returned the first earring to its case.
I quickly removed it and held it in his direction, my gaz
e still averted.
Yeah, our friendship was over, probably had been for a long time and I was just now accepting the fact.
His Blackberry buzzed in his pants. He pulled it out, scanned the incoming text and swore under his breath.
“What now?” I asked, expecting him to blow off the question.
“Two club members just parked across the street. Probably checking to see if Carson spends the night.”
I stifled the groan that wanted to slip out. Did that mean Carson actually had to stay overnight? He was just supposed to be here long enough for Maddox to debrief the two of us and then go home.
“If they start up the stairs with their guns out, wake me,” I said, getting onto my feet.
Maddox took me by the shoulders then released me like I had just Tazered him. “I need to debrief you.”
“No, you don’t.” I wasn’t going to make it through a fresh round of his glaring at me — acting like it disgusted him to even touch me — without dissolving into a complete mess.
I stomped into my bedroom, grabbed my nightgown and took a quick, punishingly cold, shower before crawling into bed, my hair still wet. All the adrenaline of the night had left me drained and I was out cold a few minutes after my head hit the pillow.
But, even in my sleep, I couldn’t escape the two men I had left arguing with one another in my living room.
********************
The sound of dice rolling on wood woke me a few hours later. I stretched, only half awake, and tried to make sense of the noise. I remembered that Carson and Maddox had been in my front room, then I remembered why. The only pleasant memory running through my head was of me at the club house, my pussy atop Carson’s cock, thick denim separating us but my clit so aching and ready I could feel every inch as his strong hands and arms worked me up and down the fabric.
The memory had made its way into my dreams, too. Only I was naked and Maddox stood behind me, both men filling my body with their gloriously beautiful cocks.
I kicked my blankets off, wondering if Maddox would be in a less murderous mood to debrief me now that he and Carson were apparently immersed in a game of backgammon. Slipping on a robe, I padded out to the living room.
They were, indeed, playing backgammon, the game eerily silent — like a battlefield when all that’s left are the bodies of the fallen. They played as they always did, Carson taking risks, putting his pieces in the line of fire on the gamble that Maddox wouldn’t role the necessary combination to send him back to the beginning. Maddox’s strategy was slow and steady.
It seemed to me it was as much a game of chance as strategy, my opinion reinforced by the fact that Carson seemed to win half their matches — and had a hell of a lot more fun playing.
Forgetting myself, I sat on the armrest of Maddox’s chair. It was his turn to roll and his hand stuttered as he released the dice onto the board. I looked at Carson, his gentle smile comforting me. Then I noticed the two open beer bottles and decided I could find additional comfort in my refrigerator.
Fetching myself a bottle would at least give me an excuse to vacate my seat on the armrest without it being painfully obvious I knew Maddox didn’t want me anywhere near him.
“Seriously, guys,” I called after opening my refrigerator and finding it alarmingly empty of alcohol. “You drank all my beer?”
“That’s what happens when you only have two beers, babe!” Carson called out, laughing before quickly falling silent.
Returning to the living room, I imagined that the silence was because Maddox had shot him some angry look. The man was becoming a downright expert at being a dick — even if he had called in every favor owed him to get Carson legally bailed out of the mess he was in.
No one was rolling or moving their pieces. Based on my groggy memory of the pieces on the board when I left, it looked like Carson had been the last to move, his counters far behind Maddox’s.
“I’m done,” Maddox said, reaching for his pieces.
I couldn’t stop myself from pointing out the obvious even though it was clear his position didn’t matter to him. “You’re winning.”
His face danced for a second, what looked like an angry smile stretching his mouth into a grimace before he shook his head. “I forfeit.”
A puff of air left Carson, his expression telling me he wanted to put his best friend in a headlock until Maddox loosened up and learned better manners.
“I’m sorry,” I said for what had to be the hundredth time since my rescue from the bike shop. “I’m sorry I went into the shop and caused a scene. But I would risk everything for you guys—”
My voice choked up. It was true, I would have gone into that clubhouse to keep Maddox out of jail, and my body would have responded every bit as positively to it being him under me — except that Maddox would have been squirming to get away from me. He hated my touching him, avoided it even though the touch of his most casual female friends was tolerated and even encouraged by his own small gestures.
“Could you please stop being so angry with me?” I cried, refusing to look at the man I was begging.
“He’s not mad at you, baby girl,” Carson assured me.
I looked to Maddox for some confirmation but he was too busy trying to skull fuck Carson with his hard gaze to even know I was in the room.
“He’s mad because I broke the truce.”
“What truce?” I asked, still looking at Maddox.
“Shut up, Brody,” he said, his use of Carson’s last name reserved for those rare moments when their friendship was truly strained.
“Okay,” Carson said, leaning against the couch. He wasn’t giving in, not really. Casually, he pointed a finger in my direction. “Who would you chose to be your best man at your wedding?”
I shook my head. “Brides don’t choose — and…”
I hated to admit it. I’d been striking out in love all my adult life — mostly because of the two jerks sitting in my living room, playing with my board games and drinking all my beer.
“I’m never getting married,” I finished.
“No long-term commitment?” Carson asked, one brow raised.
“Nope,” I said, shaking my head as the snark rolled off my tongue. “I’m going to be like you two assholes and dump a guy every few months, then cleanse my palate with a few one night stands.”
It struck me a little too late that I probably didn’t want to say something like that after all the moaning and groaning Maddox had listened to over the microphone. He had already lost a lot of the respect he had for me tonight — if he had any to start with. What I had just said would probably obliterate any lingering strands.
“Fine,” Carson relented. “But don’t tell me you don’t want a baby or two.”
Or four, I thought but kept my mouth shut.
“Babies need godparents,” Carson pressed on. “Which one of us would you pick?”
Was he serious? I looked at Maddox to see if he understood whatever mind game Carson had resorted to because I sure as hell didn’t. But Maddox had turned to stone, his entire body stiff and unmoving, as if he were suspended awaiting my answer.
“Both of you,” I said, giving him the only honest answer there was. “You would teach them to not be too serious, to enjoy life. Maddox would teach them to be serious enough…”