by Sabrina York
She gave them their change. If they noticed how her hand shook, neither of them let on. “I’ll see you guys tonight then. Is six-thirty or so okay?”
“You have anything going then?” Travis asked Dutch.
“Not now.”
Travis spoke to Mercy, “Looks like we’re on.”
She nodded, not unlike a faithful pet that wanted only to please. Should have bothered her, but it didn’t. Mercy had other plans for herself, and them.
Just short of the door, Travis stopped and looked back.
She smiled, unable to resist, pleasure humming through her.
Whatever went through his mind, Travis kept it hidden. So did Dutch, as he also stopped to regard her one last time. As though she was a product they’d just bought but weren’t completely certain about.
Mercy hoped to convince them they’d made the right choice.
Once outside, they moved in silence to Travis’s pickup and got in.
Jill craned her neck, watching them disappear down the road before she hurried to Mercy. “Wow. That was awesome. I’m so happy for you.” She threw her arms around her. “This is just what you wanted.”
Actually, more than Mercy had hoped for. Hugging Jill, she jumped up and down, both of them squealing.
Maybe it wouldn’t work out as Dutch had warned. But at least she was giving it a try. Who knew what could happen in a couple of months, weeks, days, or even hours?
Stopped at a red light, Travis finished half his tea, appreciating its iciness. Not that it did much good. A bead of sweat trickled down his temple. With the chilled bottle pressed to his throat, he jacked up the air conditioner’s blower, directing the flow to his chest and groin.
Dutch did the same with his.
They both blew air from between their teeth like guys who’d just regained consciousness after a fight, bruised and bloody, not knowing what the hell had hit them.
Travis spoke first. “What the fuck just happened back there?”
“With Mercy?”
Travis gave Dutch a ‘who else?’ look. “She was different today. Didn’t you notice?”
“Of course I did. I’m not blind.” He upended one of the M&M’s bags into his mouth. The noise from his crunchy chews mingled with the strains of Tim McGraw’s Lookin’ for That Girl.
Travis changed the station to hip-hop, a tune about badasses battling cops, rather than a man searching for love.
Dutch tongued his teeth then swallowed. “If her nipples had been any tighter, they would have poked holes through her top. Not that I’m complaining. Mercy’s got a fucking nice rack. Hell, until today, I didn’t know she was built like that.”
Neither had Travis. She’d always seemed so innocent. The kind of cute that made a man smile. He realized he was grinning and stopped. Until today, he’d thought of her as being so young. Could be it was the freckles sprinkled across her nose or the fact that she was only five-two, five-three tops. Small compared to him and Dutch, but fully grown…nicely grown…with decidedly lush curves.
Up went the blower again. He shoved his fingers through his hair, remembering hers. Long and silky, a chestnut color that went well with her pure green eyes.
And what about her voice. Huskier than it had ever been. Definitely not innocent or cute. Her fingers had circled his wrist in a surprisingly intimate way. The look she’d given him right before he’d left was something else too.
Her smile had made Travis harder than stone, urging him to do all sorts of lewd things. Like bending her over the counter, pulling down her jeans and panties—if she wore any—then paddling her because she’d been bad. Offering him and Dutch her frosting-covered finger when she should have chosen him first.
Travis had no idea why he’d feel that way. There wasn’t anything he enjoyed more than being between a woman’s glorious legs. For a good time. Period. End of story. He didn’t need to be special to them. The thought of commitment made his gut roll. Before coming here and starting a new life, he’d been nothing but responsibility. He’d practically sold his fucking soul for everyone else’s happiness and sure as hell wouldn’t make that same mistake again. For anyone.
Yet, he’d been challenged, or maybe pissed, when Mercy hadn’t chosen him first.
For that, she deserved punishment. After paddling her, he’d work his cock from his jeans, running the crown up and down her dewy cunt. She’d be dripping with desire, ready for anything. Especially him.
While Dutch waited his turn, Travis would take his sweet time mounting her. He’d burrow deep, held by Mercy’s tight, wet warmth. Lazily, he’d slide in and out of her slippery sheath before picking up the pace. Fast-slow-fast he’d go, waiting for her to cry out in pleasure, making certain her body accommodated his.
Her cunt would squeeze him dry. Breathless and weak, he’d struggle to stay awake as Dutch enjoyed her. They’d go at Mercy repeatedly, until she was too limp to escape their hungry embrace. They’d imprison her between their bodies. Doing whatever the hell they wanted to her with their mouths, hands, rods, because she desired it too.
Which was fucking nuts. This was sweet Mercy he suddenly wanted to nail. Lonely little Mercy. “I’m it,” she’d said. A person without a family, a real home, the same as him. Except for one huge difference. Travis had willingly made that choice and he didn’t have to worry about money, never would, as she obviously did.
Fuck. Having her live and work in such close proximity to them couldn’t possibly lead to anything except trouble, mainly for her. Then he’d have to let Mercy go, probably sooner than later, with her having nowhere to stay. No one to care for or to protect—
The car behind him honked. Travis flinched and gunned his pickup. It shot across the intersection. He muttered, “She’s a nice girl. I like her, dammit.” Mercy was one of the few women who was easy to be around. He could be himself. Totally fucked up, and she didn’t seem to notice in the least. “She shouldn’t be living in Greg’s cabin or working at the saloon. Why’d you say yes?”
“Me?” Dutch spoke with a mouthful of potato chips and M&M’s. “You were the one who said okay first.”
“Only because she needs a place to stay. You should have said no.”
“When you seemed to be all for it? Why am I supposed to be the bad cop?”
Because it would have kept her from moving in. Travis could have offered her money instead of a temporary home and a shitty job. It would have been a cleaner, simpler solution. Why hadn’t he thought of that at the time? If he mentioned it now, she’d wonder why and would probably guess the truth. He didn’t want her around. Hell, talk about hurting her feelings.
He muttered an oath.
“What’s the big deal?” Dutch said. “It’s only a couple of months. I’m the one who told her things don’t last forever.”
One of the reasons Travis liked the man. Dutch didn’t believe in happy-ever-after any more than he did.
They’d met when Travis’s bike had blown a tire. He’d been crisscrossing the country after cutting off all ties in San Francisco. He’d just returned to the Oregon coast when he needed the repair. At the time, Dutch had been working at a franchise shop. After his shift, they’d hit a couple of bars, got drunk, and talked about their dreams of working for themselves.
Months later, Travis had bought the old motel property, setting them both up in business. They’d gotten along fine and had the same goal when it came to women. Screw like monkeys then cut out. No strings or regrets.
Mercy didn’t know that. Maybe she didn’t have to, because she didn’t want either of them that way.
Yeah, right. Travis recalled her soft, yearning expression as he’d sucked her finger. Her skin had practically glowed when Dutch had stared at her boobs, her hunger naked and helpless. She wanted them bad. Possibly for more than a good time.
Which neither of them was willing to give.
“While she’s around, we keep our distance,” Travis said.
Dutch crumpled the empty candy bag in his fist.
“From each other?”
“Of course not.” Travis made a quick right. “From her. She’s an employee. Actually, my employee. We treat her no different than we did Greg.”
“No shit? You and I got drunk with him. We all screwed around with women. Raised all sorts of hell.” Dutch turned in his seat. “That kind of treat—”
“You know what I mean. No matter what Mercy thinks she wants, no way am I seeing her hurt. At. All. Not now, tomorrow, during the next week, month, day, whatever. Got it?”
Dutch grunted in answer and shoved more chips into his mouth rather than debate this. It was Sunday for Chrissake, his only time off. No way did he want a discussion or fight to fuck that up.
What was with Travis, anyway? It wasn’t like him to issue orders, especially when it came to who they screwed with. Over the past year they’d shared women many times and got out of each of those encounters without a kick to the balls or having to witness a female meltdown.
That hadn’t happened because of dumb luck, but pure common sense. Dutch wasn’t a rutting fool. Well, not any longer. He’d changed. He’d grown. Hell, he hadn’t had much choice. He’d been run over by the marriage train early, having wed his high school sweetheart the day after they’d graduated.
Damn, had he ever really been eighteen and that dumb?
His needy cock, not his heart, had driven him to hook up with Sara. Their wedding cake was still fresh when they’d started fighting about money, chores, sex, what to watch on TV, when to watch it, what to eat. Shit, they hadn’t been able to agree on anything, not even what to scream about.
In spite of those early warning signs they’d hung on, trying to make a go of it, for another four years. Finally, neither of them could stomach the thought of a future together. They’d never been friends. Sex was the only thing that had held them together before and during the marriage, with even the bed play petering out. Thank god there hadn’t been any kids.
Uh-uh, no way was he making a mistake like that with any other woman. Besides, when it came to Mercy, she hadn’t even been in his thoughts…until today.
Right away, he’d noticed how different she’d acted, playful and flirty, rather than tongue-tied like she’d usually been. When she wiped the frosting from the side of his mouth, Dutch had considered licking it off her finger, running his tongue over her palm, wrist, and any other part of her that she would have allowed.
He hadn’t been able to keep his eyes north of her chest. Jesus, her boobs. Firm. Weighty. Pure female. The memory made his balls crawl toward his body. His boys were so heavy they hurt.
The pain only got worse as he remembered her smile. Tender yet seductive. How in the fuck was that possible? What had changed her so suddenly?
He supposed she might have poured on the charm because she really needed a place to stay, and figured some womanly wiles would cause him and Travis to go for it.
They’d caved like a sand castle in a hurricane-force wind. Still, Dutch had kept his wits about him, saying nothing lasted forever. He’d given her a warning. That’s all he could do. If she came onto him, them, him…
He leaned against his door. “Once she sees the place, she’ll probably run in the opposite direction.”
“And if she doesn’t?” Travis asked. “If she wants to stay. If she wants more?”
No way was Dutch going to ponder that. He’d cautioned her, so his conscience was clear. Besides, Mercy had said she’d be able to manage anything. Even the two of them.
Separately? Together?
Dutch’s jaw sagged as he imagined her stripped bare while she cooked in the saloon, her skin rosy and dewy from the heat, hair clinging to her throat and the swells of her breasts, the curls between her legs springy, her cunt damp.
Her smile on him, then Travis. Her hands sliding from their cocks to their nuts. All of them sweating like mad, screaming in delight, then gorging on her cupcakes afterwards.
He stifled a smile and sighed. “We’ll just have to wait and see.”
Chapter Two
Jill started her boyfriend’s pickup. Carl, who was as skinny as Jill, had been kind enough to help with this move. Mercy’s entire life—clothes, mattress, and a few pieces of furniture—was in the vehicle’s bed. Her heart was in her throat.
Carl waved bye as he drove past in Jill’s car, taking it back to her place.
“See you in a bit,” Jill shouted to her guy. “Relax,” she said, patting Mercy’s knee. “You look great.”
Mercy grimaced at her reflection in the visor’s mirror. “Seriously?”
Jill pulled away from the apartment complex. “Would I lie to you?”
Maybe. For the last hour, Jill had worked on Mercy’s hair and face. Never had she worn so much eye shadow, blush or lipstick before, except on Halloween. This stuff might have looked good on the girl from Twilight. On her, not so much. “Don’t you think I look like a raccoon or someone on meth? Maybe even a vampire?”
“I hate to keep repeating myself, but has Travis or Dutch ever seen you in real makeup before? Have they noticed you without it?”
“They didn’t have trouble staring at my boobs this afternoon.”
“You want them to focus on your chest, or do you want them to look into your eyes so you can reach their souls?”
Mercy figured none of Maybelline’s products had the power to do that. She chewed her lip, then stopped and rubbed the reddish lipstick stains off her teeth. “I don’t want to come on too strong. That’ll scare them.” She pulled a Kleenex from her purse. “I should tone it down.”
“Don’t take all of it off.”
Mercy stopped when she looked more like a hooker from a Midwestern farming community than something from a fright film. She wondered if the ladies who frequented the saloon dolled up like this. Regarding herself in the visor’s mirror again, she turned her head from side to side. “You’re sure about the hat?”
Made of straw, it was pure cowgirl, right down to the buckle on its band.
Jill swung her attention from the road to Mercy and grinned hard enough to show her gums. “Oh yeah. It looks way cuter on you than it ever did on me.”
Mercy doubted that. She willed her pulse to slow and studied her outfit. Cowgirl boots, cut-off shorts, and a white blouse. It had little cap sleeves and tied in front, baring her midriff. A costume, if you will, since she never dressed like this. The moment she and Jill had finished their shift at Fast Fill, Jill had dragged Mercy to town, whizzing through store after store.
The more stuff Mercy had tried on, the bolder she’d got, cheered on by Jill and the clerks. Now, though, her shopping hangover hit with full force. If Dutch or Travis laughed when they saw her, she’d die.
“Be completely honest with me.” Mercy turned in her seat. “Do I look idiotic? You won’t hurt my feelings.”
Jill sighed loudly. “Remember the popular girls in high school?”
How could she forget? They got all the guys Mercy had longed for. “What about them?”
“They flaunted what they had. They wore makeup, just like I’ve been telling you to do. They did their hair, put on short skirts or tight jeans, and low-cut tees. You really should undo the first two buttons of your blouse.”
Mercy’s hand trembled as she did. “This is what Travis and Dutch want?”
“Haven’t a clue.” Jill took a right, heading in the direction of the saloon. “But I know it worked for the girls we graduated with. They went to the prom, while you and I went to work flipping burgers.”
What a horrible night that had been. Talk about feeling like the ultimate loser. Never again.
Mercy fluffed her hair. Jill had styled it to look like Jessica Simpson’s when she’d played Daisy Duke. Too bad the rest of Mercy didn’t look like gorgeous Jess.
Her palms grew damp and her stomach rolled with apprehension as the town disappeared behind them. Buildings grew more infrequent, the vegetation taking over. Towering firs, maples, and spruce crowded one side of the road, along with plants and w
ildflowers Mercy couldn’t identify. They sweetened the air, cooling it despite the brilliant sun. Its rays shimmered off the Pacific, the water and sky so blue they didn’t seem real. Sort of like what Mercy had set into motion.
She forced herself to take a deep breath and held it as the greenery opened up, showing the southern end of the old motel’s property.
“Ready?” Jill breathed, sounding excited.
Mercy wanted to throw up. The only time she’d seen this place was at night, when she’d had the courage to drive by quickly and unnoticed. Afraid if Travis or Dutch saw her, they might think she was stalking them.
“Mercy?”
She nodded. “Let’s do it.”
The pickup rounded a bend. Nestled within the monstrous trees were a series of rustic cabins, their construction simple, square footage modest. They stood on either side of the largest structure, surely four times their size. It had a bold sign over the door, marking it as Smooth Rider Saloon. To its right was the motorcycle repair shop, its sign less impressive.
The guys’ pickups were parked in front of cabins Mercy guessed belonged to them. She didn’t see either man on the grounds.
Jill pulled onto the expansive front lot. Gravel crunched beneath the pickup’s tires and pinged against its undercarriage. She elbowed Mercy. “Look.”
Her heart leapt. “What?” She pushed up in her seat, expecting to see Dutch and Travis striding toward them.
The only thing that moved was the thick foliage, stirred by the gentle breeze.
“That cabin. Way over there.” Jill pointed.
It was snuggled in trees and shadows, no signs of life around. “What about it?”
“Do you think they have their orgies there?”
Mercy barked a nervous laugh. “Only if they don’t invite more than one other person besides themselves. Look at how small it is.” She recalled how big Travis and Dutch were. Sweat prickled the back of her neck.
“Maybe they do it outside,” Jill said.
Or in the saloon after hours. Before Mercy lost her nerve, she left the cab and headed for the building, her cowgirl boots stirring up small whorls of dust. Shading her eyes against the lowered sun, she regarded the saloon’s windows, half-expecting to see Dutch and Travis watching her.
