by Sabrina York
“No.” She looked past him at Dutch. “The cupcakes can’t bake too long. The oven can’t be too hot. It has to be preheated. You’re both tired.”
“We’ll deal with it. Your recipe’s on the table. It has the temperature and time. We’ll follow it religiously.”
Her mouth trembled.
Travis feared more tears. He wanted to run, and surprised himself when he bent down and brushed his lips over hers. “Everything’s under control.”
“No, it’s not.”
“You worry too much.” He gave her a smile and a pat on her ass. “In bed. Now.”
She lay on top of the comforter, arms flung out as though she’d been crucified.
Trying not to laugh, he ordered, “Relax.”
“I owe you,” she whispered. “Both of you. I’ll pay you back.”
Travis waved her promise away. Wasn’t necessary.
She whispered something else. He stopped and turned. “What was that?”
Her face turned bright red. “Nothing.” She rolled to her side, hands to her heart, lids squeezed tight.
Chapter Five
Tears kept stinging Mercy’s eyes. Tender feelings welled in her at Travis’s kindness. Dutch’s too.
They banged cabinets looking for the trays and liners. Her bowl clattered on the table.
“Hey, watch it,” Travis barked, then lowered his voice. “You nearly pushed that onto the floor.”
“Sorry. Where’re you going?”
“Be right back—don’t touch anything.” Travis slammed her front door.
When Mercy chanced a look, Dutch had his arms folded over her table, his head snuggled on them. Sound asleep.
She choked back her feelings. They bubbled to the surface again, telling her what she already knew. Travis and Dutch weren’t only hotter than sin. They were good, decent men. And she loved them.
There, she’d admitted it to herself, just as she had to Travis before he’d turned back and asked what she’d said. Coward that she was, Mercy wasn’t about to tell him. He would have fled, with Dutch right behind him.
Neither of them wanted her heart.
Mercy bit her lip until she tasted blood, relishing the physical pain, afraid of the emotional hurt. They’d given her the best night of her life, and it hadn’t been nearly enough. Like a junkie, she was addicted to their powerful masculinity and sweet natures, hungering for more.
What was she going to do? How in the hell would she ever survive this? Less than a month ago, she’d been worried they’d ignore or dismiss her. Worse, that they’d laugh at how she looked and acted.
Now, she feared the paralyzing desire they’d set free. God, it was boundless, escalating with their every touch, word, and—
The knob jiggled, interrupting her thoughts. Travis came inside, slamming the door again.
Dutch grumbled a curse then asked, “You left to get a tape measure?”
“We’re not fucking this up. You put no more than two inches into each liner.”
Mercy pressed her lips together to suppress her giggle.
Travis and Dutch said no more, their movements speaking for them. Chair legs scraped the floor, the table rattled as one of them bumped it, the tape measure jangled, her wooden spoons clunked.
Strangely enough the noise lulled her, telling Mercy she wasn’t alone.
You will be.
Her chest ached, but she promised herself to repay them before that happened. Just as she’d told Travis. After that…
Not wanting to consider the inevitable, Mercy snuggled into the comforter, exhaustion finally allowing her some peace.
Sunlight bled through the curtains, spilling across Dutch’s face. He draped his arm over his eyes. His fingers brushed warm skin.
Mercy’s.
Hmm. The thought of burying himself in her silky heat sounded like something he should do. His shop would still be there when he finished. Pleased with his decision, Dutch rolled over, straight into Travis.
They both skittered away.
Propped on his elbows, Travis frowned at the sun then the surroundings. “Did you hear Mercy leave?”
Dutch ground the heels of his hands into his eyes. “Nope.”
“Did you hear her cooking before she did?”
“No…why?” He dropped his hands. Travis pointed.
Numerous cupcakes were on the table when they should have been with Mercy’s customers. Even from the floor, Dutch could see how uneven the tops were. Fuck. No matter how well he’d measured, he couldn’t get the damn things to fluff up like they should.
He followed Travis to the table. From a standing position, Dutch saw that Mercy had arranged the treats to spell ‘THX!’
He smiled, proud that he’d pleased her. The exclamation point proved that. “Guess we did okay.” He scratched his ass. “She took most of the batch. These were definitely the crappiest-looking ones.”
“No sense in wasting them.” Travis grabbed two, biting the tops off.
Dutch peeled a walnut from his and popped it into his mouth. “How about giving her tonight off from the saloon?”
Travis’s chews stopped. “Why?”
“Let her rest after her shift at Fast Fill.” Dutch grinned. “She’s going to need it. I’m coming back here for more.”
Travis peeled the liners from the bottoms of his cupcakes. “We both are.”
She rushed into the saloon twenty minutes ahead of schedule, bypassing the bar without a glance. Travis followed her to the kitchen. Mercy turned a slow circle, taking everything in before finally acknowledging his presence.
Travis wasn’t certain what he’d expected. A kiss maybe. Certainly a smile. Not her stricken expression. “What?”
“You cleaned.”
It sounded like an accusation. “Yeah. You were at work. Obviously you couldn’t.”
“That’s why I came here early. This is my job.”
He held up his hands in surrender. “No one said it wasn’t.” He dropped his hands. “I thought you’d be pleased. You got up so early to bake your stuff, I knew you’d be tired. Just wanted to help.”
Her mouth quivered. “Like you did with my cupcakes.”
“Oh hey.” Travis rubbed the back of his neck. “Dutch and I really tried to get those suckers perfect. We measured and everything. I know some of them were fucked up, but—”
“They were beautiful, every freaking one of them. Thank you.” She moved into him, hands slipping up his chest. Before her arms were around his shoulders, they stalled. She edged back, putting distance between them.
Travis’s cock didn’t exactly get soft, but it still felt the loss of her precious warmth…the hug and kiss she’d meant to give him. Why had she stopped? “Everything all right?”
Nodding, she went to the refrigerator and pulled out several packages of ground beef, snuggling them to her chest rather than him.
Why? “Do you have to cook—I mean, bake more stuff tonight?”
“Not for a couple of days.”
“Good.” He hesitated then edged closer, uncertain whether she’d back away. Afraid she might.
Mercy’s breathing quickened with seeming uncertainty. However, her gaze and body softened, her willingness obvious.
Travis worked his hand beneath her hair, cupping the back of her neck. His balls tightened at its silky smoothness. “Dutch and I thought we’d all get together again tonight. If that’s okay with you. We have something special planned.”
Her expression brightened. “What?”
“It’s a surprise. That’s what makes it special.”
Her smile was so quick and real something inside Travis shifted. He wanted to see her like this always. Excited and happy because of what he’d said or done. “There is one rule though.”
She rolled her eyes. “Again with the rules?”
“Hey.” He reached around and smacked her ass. “Are you giving me lip? Do you need another spanking?”
“Is that my surprise?”
It m
ight 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 nipples as though that was the best game in town.
When eve
ryone 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.”
