HONEY FOR NOTHIN'

by Cathryn Cade

  As they ate, Keys looked from Remi to Kit and smiled to himself. He liked having the two of them at his table, both of them different as could be, yin to yang, dark to pale, lean to lush, ebony-haired to bright. They were both drop dead gorgeous in their own way, and damn if either of them knew the power of their looks or their smiles.

  Opened up a world of possibilities to a man like himself, who knew what he liked and went after it.

  His stomach satisfied, Keys tipped his chair back and reached to open the fridge to snag some more beers. “Don’t have TV, but I got a deck of cards. Red, you play?”

  She nodded, but looked suspicious. “But I’m not playing strip poker with you.”

  Remi gave her a startled look, she promptly blushed, and Keys threw back his head and laughed. She kicked him under the table, but her sneaker bounced off the ankle of his motorcycle boot.

  “Nah,” he agreed, giving her a wink. “We’ll save that for another night, when we got a bottle of tequila.”

  “C’mon,” Remi teased her, reaching to do something under the table that made her jump and giggle. “Keys has a bottle of Fire Rock in the cupboard, will that do it for you?”

  She shoved at his hand, giving him a smile that made jealousy fire in Keys’ gut. “Nope. I’m cellophane.”

  Remi gave her a look, his mouth quirking in a way that said he was trying not to laugh. “You’re what?”

  She frowned. “You know—I’m off men. I’m taking a break.”

  Keys had to chuckle or bust. “Think you mean celibate, Red.” And if she was, it had only begun a couple of hours ago.

  She nodded, looking embarrassed. “Yeah, that. Thought that’s what I said.”

  “Kit’s a numbers girl,” Remi told Keys. “Give her any math problem and she can do it in her head.”

  She shrugged, digging at the label on her beer bottle with her thumbnail, but Remi went on. “She adds up customer bills in her head in about five seconds flat. Faster than Lindi’s till, I’m telling you.”

  Keys nodded. “Respect, Red. That’s a gift. I fuckin’ hate doing my accounts. Usually let the bank do it for me.”

  That got her attention. “You should never take their word for your balance,” she scolded. “Their accountants make mistakes, too. Also, if one of them is skimming, how would you know?”

  “Good point,” he agreed. “I guess I’ll have to hire someone to do my books, make sure that don’t happen.”

  She nodded. “You should.” Now she was the one speaking with authority. Fuckin’ cute.

  “You know anyone might be interested?” he asked her.

  Remi poked her under the table again. “You, dummy.”

  She gave him a look, shoving at his hand. “Don’t call me a dummy, dumb-ass.”

  “Then don’t be a dummy, dummy.”

  Keys watched the two of them wrestle for control of their tickling contest, or whatever they had going, and grinned. Damn, they were pretty. He’d give his next paycheck to watch the two of them strip down and go at it ... and then join them.

  But to get anywhere on that road, he had to figure a way to keep her around long enough—without losing his temper and his mind. Not with Remi—in the time they’d spent together, they got along easily. Keys was careful to give Remi space, and not crowd him. In return, he got a passion so honest and hot it humbled him. Remi acted like no one had ever wanted to just hold him, or listen to his dreams.

  But with Kit, Keys now got what Jack had mentioned about her drifting from one thing to the next. Not into commitment, either to jobs or to men. On a fast track to be just like her mother. Of course, growing up around MC clubhouses, she wouldn’t have seen a lot of examples of steady couples or employment.

  Could it work to keep her around with him and Remi for a while? Just see how it unfolded between the three of them?

  Whoa, and what the ever living fuck was he thinking about committed couples for, anyway? Not like he was looking to put a ring on it, he just wanted her around long enough to delve into her lush body. Yeah, he wanted to fuck her seven ways to Sunday. And judging by the way she smiled at Remi, it looked like he was Keys’ best ally—or competition.

  What would she think if, or when, she learned the truth?

  If Keys got real lucky, he’d get to keep both of them for a little while. Long enough to have some wild times.

  “So,” he said. “Poker. We’ll play for pennies, and the loser has to forfeit something--winner’s choice.”

  Red rolled her eyes. “Bet I can guess what you’d want.”

  Remi gave him a look that said he had a pretty good idea too. Keys just grinned, ‘cause they were both wrong.

  * * *

  Two hours later, Kit threw down her final hand with disgust. “Damn it! I’m out.”

  Out of cards, and out of pennies, which meant whoever took the pot, received a forfeit from her. She hadn’t had a decent hand all evening. And she might not be the best poker player ever, but she was good enough to win at least part of the time.

  In fact, she could swear someone was cheating.

  Not that she was accusing either of them—she wasn’t that stupid. If it wasn’t Remi, he’d be hurt. And if Keys was not cheating, he’d be pissed she accused him. She’d rather keep her drunk mouth shut than have him angry again.

  But both men had a pretty even pile of pennies in front of them, and had been taking turns raking in her antes.

  Now they were eying each other over a hand. Keys was relaxed, his eyes twinkling, while Remi had the best poker face Kit had ever seen. Maybe it was his Native American blood, or maybe just the essential wariness he wore like a shield, but he had no tells. Of course neither did Keys, but then, biker sensei, so she expected nothing less.

  She grabbed another handful of the mixed caramel and cheese corn Keys had hauled out of the cupboard along with a bottle of Fire Rock. The drink burned her throat, but went down easier after the first slug. Her head was swimming pleasantly, and she was smiling for no reason ... well, other than the fact that she was hanging out with the two hottest guys ever. That was reason enough.

  Remi put his cards down, revealing two fives and two jacks. Keys tossed his down to reveal a full house.

  “Oops!” Kit muttered. Looked like she was going to be paying a forfeit to the man she’d sworn off of. Oh, well, he was too yummy to resist anyway—even if she was mad at him. Besides, he’d saved her ass from Bouncer, so there was that.

  Both men turned to look at her. “What, babe?” Keys asked.

  Kit giggled again, and waved her hands at them. “Two hot biker dudes ... and neither one o’ you is Bowzer--I mean Bonsher--I mean, y’know. Him.”

  Remi laughed and moved the bottle out of her reach. “Damn, woman, you are sloshed.”

  This made her laugh harder than ever. “Yeppers.”

  Keys warm hand settled on the back of her neck, and he gave her a squeeze. “That’s all right, Red. You’re not goin’ anywhere.”

  She squinted at him. “Not givin’ you any forf’t, neither.”

  He gave her a wicked look that made her pussy clench. “That’s all right too. You can give it to Remi—and I’ll watch.”

  “Say what?” Both she and Remi stared at him, Remi with a dark, intense look that sent shivers down Kit’s spine.

  “Your forfeit is a kiss,” Keys said. “You kiss Remi, I watch.”

  “Keys,” Remi said in a low voice, his eyes flashing.

  Kit didn’t know what that was about. But kiss Remi? Hell, yeah. That was a go.

  She planted her hands on the table and pushed to her feet, her head swimming. She plopped onto Remi’s lap, then ‘eeped’ when his chair rocked precariously. “Sorry,” she told him, hanging onto his shoulders.

  “‘S okay, axa’ashe. I got you.” His hands closed on her hips, warm and strong. His thighs were hard under hers, his shoulders the perfect grip for her hands. And this close, his mouth was so inviting, she leaned in and planted a hot, wet kiss on him.

>   His hands tightened, biting into her ass. Then he kissed her back, and it was so nice she hummed with pleasure, snuggling close and sliding her hand around the back of his neck to grasp his braid, heavy and silky in her grasp. A long, hard shape prodded at her hip through his jeans, ripe with possibilities.

  Kit didn’t want to stop. She could’ve stayed right there, just eating him up. But after a long time, Remi pulled back, his hand tangled in her hair, his breathing heavy. “Enough,” he whispered, although his eyes said differently.

  “‘Kay,” she agreed sadly. She laid her head on his shoulder.

  “Hot,” Keys murmured from across the table. “Hot and sweet. Like I knew it’d be.”

  “You twisted fucker,” Remi muttered. He stroked Kit’s back, up and down, up and down.

  “Just know what I like,” Keys said. “And I’m lookin’ at it.”

  “You want both of us,” Remi said, as if he was daring Keys to admit it.

  Keys didn’t answer, not aloud anyway.

  Whoa. Kit’s mind spun with shock and then with delicious possibilities. “I’d do both o’ you,” she mumbled.

  Remi’s hand tightened in her hair.

  Keys grunted. “You do both of us, Red, it’ll be because you’re so hot for it you can’t stand not to. Not because you’re too drunk to choose.”

  “Or because you think you have to, to stay here,” Remi added, and now he sounded pissed. His heart was pounding like a drum under Kit’s hand.

  “S’okay,” Kit told him. “I don’t think that.” Except that was how a lot of bikers—hell, a lot of men--rolled

  “Okay.” Remi patted her ass. “C’mon, time to get you to bed.”

  Kit allowed herself to be guided into the bathroom, where she used the toilet and then let herself be steered up the stairs to Keys’ makeshift bedroom. She plopped down on the big mattress, laid her head on a pillow that smelled like Keys, and felt a comforter settle over her.

  The two men spoke softly by the door.

  Kit wanted to listen, because even drunk she knew there was some crucial undercurrent in their deep voices. But the whiskey got the better of her, and she swirled down into the dark instead.

  Chapter Eight

  Remi pushed open the shower curtain and stepped out, eyes closed. He stopped to sluice water from his face, and then stopped short. Keys stood at the toilet, wearing only a pair of jeans, his eyes sleepy and warm as he regarded Remi’s naked body.

  “Damn,” he said, his deep voice morning rough. “You look good wet. Real good.”

  He finished what he was doing and flushed, then grabbed one of the bath towels and tossed it to Remi, who stood frozen in place. “Dry off, babe.”

  Remi took the towel and buried his face in it, wishing he could leave it there, wishing he could toss it away and claim what he really wanted. He could feel Keys move to stand before him, as if invisible bands stretched between them, from each part of his body to Keys’. Invisible, yet inescapable.

  “When I showered yesterday,” Keys said, reaching to grasp the towel and pull it gently away from Remi’s hot face, “I thought about showering with you that morning in your room. I jacked off, imagining it was you with your mouth hot and slippery on my cock.”

  As his warm breath and deep voice twined into Remi’s ear, Remi shuddered, and his skin flushed with heat, his cock jerking to attention, prodding the warm, damp air between them. He remembered that shower too.

  Before that, he remembered looking across that bar in Spokane, and meeting a steady blue gaze that sent a thrill through him, so powerful his knees weakened and his cock stiffened like a war club. He remembered Keys sauntering over to him, and leaning in beside him. Saying hello, and talking about something, anything, because it wasn’t the words but the undercurrents that mattered.

  Oh, yeah, he remembered every detail of heading back to the toilet, then past it and outside into the deep, velvet black shadows of the alley. The soft thump of the door as Keys came out after him. He remembered the cool night air, the smell of stale beer and pizza wafting from the shop next door.

  The first touch of Keys’ hand on his face, and of his lips, soft and warm, the rasp of whiskers against his chin. And everything that had followed. Hot, and fast and desperate—because if they’d been caught there, not good.

  “This—you and me,” he said now, “Not a good idea while she’s here.”

  Because Kit was so sweet and hot, and Remi would do most anything not to hurt her. And she wanted him, and he damned sure wanted her. Wanted to grab onto her and hold on, sweet and warm and steady in a cold world.

  “Best idea ever, sweetheart,” Keys disagreed, his blue eyes gentle, his deep voice so sweet and sure that Remi swayed forward helplessly, and allowed himself to be drawn into the hard, powerful, yet gentle embrace he craved, just as much as he did Kit.

  And wasn’t that a fucking joke. He wasn’t just a queer Indian, he was bi. Yup, he swung his war club both ways.

  Keys kissed him and rubbed the towel down over his torso, his strong hands capturing rivulets of water, and leaving behind skin that was flushed with need. When his hand, warm and calloused and knowing, closed on Remi’s cock, he nearly came instantly.

  “Turn around,” Keys murmured. “Wanna fuck you. You want that?”

  Remi kissed him instead of answering. Keys kissed him back, all the while teasing and caressing him, then urged him to turn and brace his hands on the front edge of the sink, while Keys reached past him to open a drawer in the cabinet, and pull out a tube of lube.

  “You’re so damn beautiful,” Keys told him, pressing kisses to Remi’s shoulder, and stroking his ass. “Like a runner, light and lean. If I was a painter, I’d paint you just like this.”

  “Spread, baby.” His fingers stroked between Remi’s ass cheeks, slippery with lube. He worked deftly, prepping Remi, and then he was pushing into him, and holding him close, hot, hair dusted muscle and soft denim and the brush of his balls against Remi’s ass, as his cock, thick and long and hard, filled him with painful, burning pleasure.

  When Keys reached around him, his hand still slick with lube, to grasp Remi’s cock, Remi moaned and rocked back into Keys.

  “That’s it,” Keys rasped. “Jesus fuck, so good, so beautiful.”

  Keys fucked him with long, sure strokes, every one hitting that magic place deep inside Remi, and his orgasm rolled up with swift fervor, so wrong and yet so good, as good as being inside a sweet, tight pussy. But so different.

  “C’mon, sweetheart, come for me,” Keys urged. “Give it to me.”

  Some small sound, a choked intake of air, brought Remi’s head around to see, in the steam-fogged mirror, movement outside the half-open bathroom door. He lifted one hand from the sink and swiped it across the mirror, clearing just enough to see the woman who stood outside the small room.

  Kit, warm and sleep-rumpled, her hair a nimbus of wild, red curls, her eyes and mouth rounded in shock and fascination.

  Remi met her eyes in the mirror and came, long and hard, in shuddering jets. His eyes rolled back, his head fell forward, and when he opened them again, she was gone.

  Hell, he was as twisted as Keys. Having her catch them, see him with Keys buried balls deep in him, taking him, had been so hot he’d nearly fainted.

  Keys groaned in completion, and then pulled slowly out of Remi. He pressed a last kiss to Remi’s shoulder, and reached for his wet washcloth to clean up before fastening his jeans.

  He smiled at Remi in the mirror, his lean, hard face soft with repletion. Remi’s heart swelled with a sweet ache, and he knew he’d do whatever it took to keep that look aimed at him. Even if it would eventually blow up in both their faces.

  Hell, it just had.

  He washed off again, then toweled himself dry as Keys sluiced water on his face at the sink and toweled off. Remi had left his hair braided for his shower, and now a rivulet of warm water ran down the furrow of his spine. It may as well have been ice water, because it sent a ch
ill through him, piercing his warm glow of satiation.

  “She saw us,” he said. “Kit.”

  Keys straightened, and met his gaze in the mirror, rueful. “I know, sweetheart.”

  Remi shook his head and flapped the towel he still held in one hand. It might not bother Keys, but it did him. “I gotta talk to her.”

  If that would even work--and if he had the courage to look into those big green eyes, so full of flirtation and knowledge, and yet so essentially sweet. Shit, she wasn’t gonna want a perv who dipped his cock in both holes—why should she, when she could have any guy she wanted, when she had bikers who wanted her so badly they were willing to fight to get her?

  Now he’d never get to fuck her. And he really wanted to fuck her, wanted to lay that sweet, plump body of hers down and bury himself in her, feast on her like manna, make her scream with pleasure.

  He was reaching for his jeans when he heard her high, thin shriek. Only it was terror—so not what he’d had in mind!

  Remi burst out into the shop carrying his towel, dancing on the balls of his feet as he scanned the shop for her, his heart pounding. The door leading outside was open, a swathe of muted daylight falling in.

  “Kit!” he yelled, dashing across the cement floor. “She’s outside.”

  Keys thudded behind him. “Ruger in the clip by the door,” he called. “It’s loaded. I got the shotgun.”

  Remi grabbed the pistol from the wall clip beside the door, and eased it open, the gun in his hand, ready to lay waste to whoever had his sweet sunset-haired girl.

  “You go this way,” Keys murmured behind him, pointing along the north side of the shop. “I’ll go around the other way. We’ll get her back.”

  * * *

  Oh, holy hell. What had she just seen? Kit stumbled away from the bathroom and across the shop, the floor chilly beneath her bare feet, the quiet air echoing with the memory of low moans, the slap of flesh that had stopped her outside the bathroom door. Then Remi’s gaze locking onto hers in the mirror, that one strip of glass clear enough for her to see every nuance of emotion on his face as he orgasmed.