by Dixon, Ruby
“C-c-can I sit down?” Ugh, I hate that I’m stuttering like a chicken. My stutter always comes out at the worst times.
“That seat’s for Kitty,” one says as I move forward. “We don’t have room for you.” She nods over at the bar. “You can go sit with the rest of the club butt.”
I feel my face flush with embarrassment. If I was a pushier sort, I’d ask why I couldn’t sit with them. Make them spit it out. But I know the answer. I’m ‘property’. Not officially an old lady. Some clubs don’t make a distinction between the two, I’ve heard. Guess the women in this one do. I keep a bright smile on my face and head back toward the bar, since I’m not sure what else to do with myself. Muscle and Beast have their heads down in a discussion with the presidents, and judging from the look I see on Beast’s face, it’s not a happy conversation, or an interruptible one. I don’t want to be a burden.
The last empty seat at the bar fills before I can get to it, and I consider going back to ‘our’ booth. It’s still empty, but sitting there by myself? That’ll scream ‘loser’ more than anything else, won’t it? I’m supposed to be mingling, showing I can hang with the Butchers.
Mouth pushes past me on her roller skates, nearly knocking me over. I don’t want to disappoint Beast or Muscle. I think, trying to decide where I can go that is safe and inconspicuous. “What’s the matter, baby girl? Can’t hang?” Her voice is saccharine sweet. Just from overhearing my brother’s talk of parties and the club, I know that you have to show you can roll with what the club dishes out to you. It’s all about face. If you’re in, you’re in, but if you show weakness, someone will find your weak spot and gut you.
Stuart used to always tease me about being weak. I hate that everyone else seems to think I am, too. Is that what Beast and Muscle think of me? That I’m a weak, sniveling little creature that needs to be protected from the world?
I kind of hate that.
Mouth puts a stopper down on her skate and turns back to me. “Y-y-y-you want a ref-f-fill?” she taunts, smirking. At the bar, someone else snickers.
Just at that moment, the vibrator in my pussy jolts and comes to life. And instead of being sexy and fun and titillating, I panic. I wish the floor would swallow me whole. I stare at Mouth, the vibe making my nethers quiver. I want nothing more than to get away and process.
So I chug my whisky, offer her the glass, and retreat to the ladies room.
It’s clear there’s not much of a cleaning crew at the Roadhouse. The trash can near the door is overflowing, and the two pink bathroom stalls look messy and smell worse. It’s empty, at least, and I breathe a sigh of relief.
The vibrator goes off inside me, insistent, and I brace my hands on the porcelain sink, clinging to it for support. The vibe’s determined to wring an orgasm out of me, but I’m not feeling particularly sexy at the moment. I…kind of want to cry.
I feel so out of my depth. Like this party is a wake-up call. That one day Beast and Muscle are going to look over at me and realize I’m not worth their time. My eyes water and I swipe at my cheeks, hating that I’m so weak even as the vibe continues to sputter to a stop, and then start again. A few moments later, when I do orgasm, I burst into a sob.
God, I am a miserable sack of shit, aren’t I? Muscle wouldn’t know what to do with me if he saw me right now. Beast, I imagine, would probably let me curl up against him and weep, but I hate that I need comforting over something as stupid as a party and a mean girl. I yank a paper towel free from the holder and mop my face, my thighs clenching together as the vibrator wrings aftershocks from me.
The door opens and Kitty saunters in. She beams a smile at me, heads to one of the stalls and does her business. The whisky I chugged gurgles and burns in my stomach. I waffle, wondering if I should leave and go back out on the floor.
And do what, I ask myself. Stand around awkwardly waiting for someone to talk to you? Go back and sit at the booth, all alone? Let Mouth come over and give you more shit?
As I hesitate, Kitty comes out of the bathroom and washes her hands. The smile she flashes at me in the mirror is puzzled. I’ve met Kitty a few times. She’s confident, pretty, charming, and totally at ease with who she is. She’s a flirt and loves to play. I wish I was like her.
“You okay, Shy?” she asks me.
I give her a wobbly smile. “Yeah, I’m c-cool.” Just then, the vibrator goes off again, and I sag against the sink as it wrings a few more aftershocks from me.
Kitty’s head tilts to the side. “Uh…”
My face goes crimson as I realize I’m about to have another orgasm. In front of her. I clench my hands against the sink again and my face scrunches, but I’m unable to stop the whimper that escapes my throat as the next wave crests.
“Ah.” Kitty chuckles. “Sex toy?” At my nod, she doesn’t leave, though. She continues to look at me thoughtfully. “Is that why you’re crying? Do I need to have one of the guys say something to Muscle? I mean, I know he can be a dick, but I always thought he was a fun kinda dick—“
I shake my head. The last thing I want is for someone to think one of my guys is being cruel. The absolute opposite is true. I adore both Muscle and Beast. I love that Muscle is so playful and cocky - and that I know it’s all a show to hide how vulnerable he really is when he lets his guard down. I love that Beast is protective and caring and a little intimidating to everyone but me. I would change nothing about the two of them. But I still feel like a wimp as I say the words aloud to Kitty. “Someone was b-b-being m-mean. I just n-needed a moment to re-c-c-over.”
A look of sympathy comes over her pretty face. “They’re kind of a tough crew, huh?” At my nod, an impish smile crosses her face. “You know the old ladies don’t like me? They’re all older and a lot of them think I’m just some panty-raid trash. But they have to put up with me because of Gem and Dom, so I force them to save me a seat. They’re such bitches.” She rolls her eyes. “So I rub it in their faces.”
“It w-wasn’t them.” Though they weren’t exactly super friendly. “Just someone else being p-p-pushy.”
“Mm. I’ve run into that myself. Some of the other girls try to run off ‘newcomers’.” She puts finger quotes around the word. “Like if we haven’t sucked every dick wearing a patch, we’re somehow not worthy of spending our time with our men. Let me guess. Sweetbutt? Was it Froggy?”
“Mouth,” I admit.
“That was my next guess. You know she has the shit, right?”
Her words startle me. “The what?”
“The shit. Herp. Whatever. Why do you think she’s so quick to offer blow jobs? It’s because no one wants to get near her diseased ass.” Kitty winks at me. “So if she’s a little bitchy, that’s why. Feel free to use that to put her in her place, by the way.”
“She offered to have sex with me,” I say, blushing. “To eat m-m-my p-p-p-p—“ the word’s not coming out, and the vibrator starts again. Lord have mercy upon me.
Kitty chuckles and pulls out a tube of lip gloss from a pocket, then applies it in the mirror. “Of course she did. She’s trying to force you to play with the big kids. She knows that if the guys get all protective of you, someone else is going to heckle, and it’ll just get worse and worse until you’re gonna have to be in the center of a gang bang or something, just to prove that you can do it.”
My eyes widen. That sounds horrible. “Did they do the same to you?”
She shrugs. “Yes. I called her out on that shit, too. Told her the moment I found a pussy worth licking, I’d lick it. Of course, now Gem and Dom are fascinated at the thought of finding me someone to eat out, but,” she shrugs. “I’ll try anything once.”
Yikes. I don’t want to ‘try’ anything, though. I just want Beast and Muscle. Maybe I can’t hang with this crew after all. The thought depresses me even more.
Chapter Two
BEAST
Parties are supposed to be fun, right? If so, no one at our table got the fucking memo. Everyone’s fucking falling apart on me toni
ght, and I just want to smack a few heads together. But I can’t, so I cross my arms and work on my best menacing face. Not hard to do.
Things were going fine tonight at first. Muscle was giving Shy a little teasing, and our girl was responding just the way we liked - a little reluctant, a lot aroused, and ready for more. We sent her off to go hang at the party once Gemini and Domino were ready to talk business, and that was when shit hit the fan.
Gem never wastes any time. He’s not the chatty, friendly one. That’s Dom. Gem just gets right down to business. He takes a sip of his drink to wet his mouth and then says, real casual like, “Got a freelance arms fencer in our territory. I don’t like it.”
“What kind of dumbass sets up shop in Butchers territory?” Muscle asks, grinning. He swigs his whisky. “Everyone knows that you either pay us to set up shop, or you get the hell outta dodge.”
“This guy obviously did not get the memo,” Gem says, his face grim. “Found out he’s been selling arms to any color that asks. Sold a rocket launcher to one of the Eights the other day. Found it when he got taken down.”
I say nothing. I’m not surprised to hear this. When we took care of the Eighty-Eight a few weeks ago that were trying to get their hands on Kitty, they’d been armed to the teeth. I’d wondered where they got their guns, but I figured something would turn up.
Something always did. So I grunted to acknowledge that I was following the convo.
“So we have a guy that has big connections,” Domino said. “And he’s selling under our noses. We had a few of the boys visit him last week to give him a bit of a shakedown, and time to comply. Told him he could deal as long as we got our cut and he didn’t sell to rivals. Turns out our boy isn’t interested in complying.”
This was where Muscle and I came in. I knew this part. As Warlords, we were executioners to the club. It was a dirty job, but a necessary one. We keep shit in line. We keep the fear real. Most of all, we ensure that the pres (both of ‘em) keep their noses clean.
I’ve made my peace with the job long ago. When I was a young kid with a lot of shit beating me down, Domino saved my ass. Apparently he does that quite a bit, because he saved Gem once upon a time, too. At any rate, he pulled me out of a bad situation and gave me a home with the Butchers. Now, the club has all my loyalty. I’ve killed for my colors. I’ve gone to jail for them. I’d die for them.
I know Muscle feels the same.
“Just give us the name, and we’ll handle it,” Muscle says, showing we’re on the same page. Yep. This is why we ride together.
Gem nods and hands us a piece of paper with a name and an address. “If you could take care of it this week, we’d be much obliged.”
“Can do,” I say.
Muscle takes the paper and unfolds it. He stares at it for a moment. He is utterly silent, and that’s not like my blowhard buddy.
Gem and Dom look at us.
“There a problem?” Dom says.
“You sure this is the guy?” Muscle says after a long time. He’s still got his gaze glued to that paper as if it’ll reveal something new if he just stares long enough.
“That’s him,” Gem says. “Not a lot of Bernard Prezlewskis in New Mexico.”
Muscle simply nods acknowledgment. I want to ask about it, but now’s not the time. I’ll ask in private, when he’s more likely to speak his mind. I recognize the look on his face. He’s shutting down. Going to his dark place. Something’s triggered a dark memory of war, and he’s seconds away from losing his shit. My ride partner has PTSD from shit that went down back in Afghanistan. Fucked with his head something awful, and every so often, it rears.
Like now.
Hell. This is all I need, Muscle going ape-shit and losing his damn mind and attacking whatever comes close. I don’t want Gemini and Domino to doubt us and our ability to handle things, so I take the paper from Muscle’s clenched fingers. “You call on us, we got it. No problem.” I tilt my chin at them. “Any fallout from the Taco thing?”
It’s a good change of subject. Taco’s name is still a gut-punch to everyone in the club that knows the truth. That two weeks ago, we found out there was a snitch in the club who’d tried to sell out Lucky, Gemini’s sister, to the Eighty-Eight. Someone was passing information and causing shit. Turned out it was Taco, aka Stuart, and none other than Shy’s brother. She’d come to me and Muscle for protection, offering up her body in exchange. When shit went down, she’d ended up killing him, and we hid the evidence.
I’m not gonna miss the asshole. No one likes the thought of a snitch, especially when everything we’re involved in is not entirely legal. It’s more than that, though. It’s that you trust someone to wear your colors and he fucking betrays you. I can’t comprehend it. I’ll be a Butcher until the day I die. His betrayal bothers me more than I like to think. I didn’t tell Muscle, but I fucking pissed on Taco’s unmarked grave, because there’s nothing I hate worse than a snitch.
Dom rubs his mouth. Taco is clearly a subject he’s not eager to discuss. “Some questions. We spread that he was up to some sketchy shit, though we didn’t say what. That he got caught in a gun fight and didn’t come out a winner.”
I grunt acknowledgment. It’s the story we crafted to keep attention off of Shy. She hasn’t been ours long enough to ensure that no one will fuck with her.
“People are wondering,” Gem says. “And Lock’s solo at the moment, which brings in even more questions.”
“So get him a partner,” I say. “Take one of these prospects and shove them at him. Lock’s a good guy. He can get along with most anybody. And he can show a scruff the ropes.”
And I don’t say the obvious. If Taco isn’t blatantly missing…no one’s gonna miss him.
“Mmm,” Gem says, but he’s not shooting down the idea. “Can you think of any prospect in particular you think he might get along with?”
I shrug and look over at Muscle. He gets to know all the prospects at the gym. Mostly because he likes to stomp them in the ring to show them what a badass he is.
Muscle’s still distant, though. He’s staring at his whisky, a million miles away.
“We’ll discuss and come back to you on that,” I say, and kick Muscle under the table.
Muscle’s jaw clenches. “Yeah,” he says. “Give us a day or two.”
Fuck. M’s in a bad place. I need to distract him with something.
As if she’s got a sixth sense, Kitty shows back up at the table. Gem’s arm automatically goes around her waist and he gives her ass a caress. “Not now, babe. Give us a few more.”
“I know,” she says, putting a hand up. “Not wanting to interrupt, but I caught Shy in the bathroom and she looked like she was crying.”
Muscle’s head jerks up. “What?”
“Yeah. I think she’s having a hard time with some of the other girls?” Kitty shrugs delicately. “I’m just pointing out that a rescue wouldn’t be out of hand. That’s all. And you boys can spank me later for being disobedient.” With a saucy wink at Gem and Dom, she saunters away from the table.
That one’s a handful. I can tell by the dopey way that Dom is grinning after her that she’s good for those two, though.
“Shouldn’t be crying at a party,” Gem points out. “The other girls are gonna eat her alive.”
“Shy’s not like the others,” Muscle says. He looks pissed, but at least he’s out of his funk for the moment. “She just needs some time to adjust.”
“Well, tell her not to take too long,” Dom says, grinning. His gaze is still on Kitty’s ass, shaking as she walks across the room. “You know once you get pegged as a chicken, it’s hard to shake it.”
“She’s not a goddamn chicken,” Muscle grits out. He looks ready to come across the table at Domino’s teasing words.
Well this is just going from bad to worse, isn’t it? Now Muscle’s about to start a goddamn fight with Gemini and Domino. What the hell is Muscle thinking? Out of the corner of my eye, I see Shy trying to sneak back to our tabl
e. Alone. Kitty’s right, though, her eyes are red and swollen, as if she’s been crying. On impulse, I motion for her to join us. Muscle needs some serious distracting and I’ve found just the thing to do it.
“Shy’s probably unhappy that Muscle keeps making her come,” I say, producing the remote for her sex toy. “Probably deserves a spanking.”
Muscle chuckles at that, relaxing. “You know if I spank her, she’ll just come again.”
I nudge the remote at the presidents, sitting across from us at the table. “You want to give it a go?” It’s an unspoken invitation of sorts. I don’t want them touching our girl, but they’re allowed to test her, as long as we’re here to oversee things.
“You sure?” Gem asks.
“Yup.”
Domino reaches out and snatches it, hiding the remote before Shy can see what’s up.
She approaches the table, her expression hesitant despite the smile on her face. “Y-you n-need something?”
“I do,” I say, then gesture at my ride partner. “Muscle needs you to come sit on his lap and ride his dick for a bit.”
Her eyes widen. She looks at the other two men sitting at the table.
“Don’t look at them,” Muscle says. “Look at me. I’m the only one that matters right now.”
She blinks, and then that small, soft smile curves her mouth. It makes my dick get hard every time I see it, even when it’s not aimed at me. “Can I climb over you, Beast?” She flutters her lashes at me and reaches out to caress the back of my neck, right where I have a skull tattoo.
Little manipulator. She knows I can’t refuse her anything. I haul her onto my lap, however momentarily, and pull her in for a brutal, possessive kiss that she greedily takes. She’s not chicken. She’s just best when she’s at our side, drawing from our strength.
“Hey,” Muscle says. “Share a bit.”
I reluctantly let her slide from my arms, knowing that I’ll have her full attention later tonight. For now, though, she needs to distract Muscle. Hell, she’s distracting me right now, looking all tousled and flushed from my kiss. She crawls over me and slides into Muscle’s lap. As I stroke her ass, she twines her arms around Muscle’s neck and begins to kiss him. Deep, wet, delicious kisses that make me a bit envious that I’m not the one that’s all fucked up inside so I could get that attention focused on me.
